Page 82 of A Rogue to Resist
This was what he had chosen—a marriage as empty as his parents’, as devoid of genuine connection as Edmund’s union with Katherine must have been. He was preparing to bind himself to a woman who viewed him not as a person butas a convenient means to elevated status, a necessary step in fulfilling her family obligations.
Just as he had once resented Katherine for what he perceived as her grasping claim to Greythorne’s assets, he was now himself being treated as a means to an end. The irony was not lost on him.
He moved away from the alcove, retreating to the relative privacy of the terrace that opened off the ballroom. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the overheated interior, but it did little to ease the constriction in his chest.
What had he done?
In his wounded pride after seeing Katherine with Lord Clifton, he had rushed headlong into an engagement with a woman who felt nothing for him beyond appreciation for his title and fortune. A woman who would raise their future children with the same cold practicality she brought to their marriage, teaching them that duty and advantage must always supersede genuine feeling.
Drake braced his hands against the stone balustrade, staring unseeing at the darkened garden below. He had convinced himself that Lady Eleanor’s youth and malleability would make her a suitable countess—one who would not challenge or complicate his management of Greythorne. He had told himself that his mother’s romantic ideals were a luxury he couldn’t afford with the entail’s deadline looming, that a practical arrangement was better than losing Greythorne entirely to Captain Halston.
Now he realized that those same qualities would make her precisely the wrong partner for the life he envisioned.
He thought of Katherine—her fierce intelligence, her unwavering advocacy for Greythorne’s people, her refusal to accept convenient solutions when better ones could be foundthrough effort and innovation. How different she was from the docile, pragmatic young woman he had chosen in her stead.
Then he thought of Lady Eleanor herself—how she spoke of their future with such cold detachment, as though she were discussing a business arrangement rather than a life partnership.
What had he done?
Drake felt a sudden, sharp understanding. Lady Eleanor had accepted his proposal out of duty to her family, but her heart clearly lay elsewhere. He was not rescuing her from spinsterhood—he was preventing her from marrying the man she actually loved.
“Lord Greythorne? Are you unwell?”
The voice startled him from his dark contemplation. Drake turned to find Lady Beauford regarding him with shrewd eyes, her expression suggesting she had observed more than he might wish.
“Lady Beauford,” he acknowledged with a bow. “Merely seeking a moment’s respite from the heat inside.”
“Indeed.” She studied him with the penetrating gaze that had made her a formidable presence in London Society for decades. “Though one might wonder why a newly engaged gentleman would seek solitude rather than his betrothed’s company.”
Drake stiffened slightly. “Lady Eleanor is engaged with her friends at present. I saw no reason to interrupt.”
“How considerate,” Lady Beauford observed, her tone making it clear she suspected his true reasons. “Though I confess, I find your engagement rather puzzling. Lady Eleanor seems an unlikely choice for a man of your... independent thinking.”
“The match has many advantages,” Drake replied automatically, the justification sounding hollow even to his own ears.
“Oh, undoubtedly. Youth, breeding, family connections—all the qualities Society values in a suitable countess.” Lady Beauford moved to stand beside him at the balustrade, her gaze fixed on the garden below. “But none of the qualities you yourself seemed to value in another lady of my acquaintance.”
Drake’s jaw tightened. “I’m not certain what you’re implying, Lady Beauford.”
“No?” She smiled faintly. “Then permit me to be more direct. You spent weeks working closely with Lady Katherine, engaged in what witnesses described as the most intellectually stimulating partnership they had observed. You showed every sign of genuine admiration for her knowledge and character. Then suddenly, you announce your engagement to a young lady whose primary qualification appears to be her father’s influence and her own malleability.”
The assessment was so accurate that Drake found himself momentarily speechless.
“Lady Katherine made her feelings regarding remarriage abundantly clear,” he said finally, his voice carefully controlled. “And I had the entail’s deadline to consider.”
“Ah, yes. The infamous Greythorne marriage clause.” Lady Beauford nodded. “Though I understand Lady Katherine declined Lord Clifton’s suit the very day before your engagement to Lady Eleanor was announced. Rather curious timing, wouldn’t you say?”
Drake’s jaw tightened. “I learned of that... after the fact.”
“After you had already committed to Lady Eleanor, you mean?” Lady Beauford’s eyebrows rose. “How unfortunate. Onemight wonder what difference such knowledge might have made to your decision.”
The observation struck Drake with uncomfortable force. He had learned of Katherine’s refusal too late—when his engagement was already announced, his course already set. The timing had been cruel in its irony.
“I see from your expression that you’ve considered that possibility,” Lady Beauford observed. “Perhaps the question now is whether past mistakes can be corrected.”
“It hardly matters now,” Drake replied, though the words felt like ashes in his mouth. “The announcement has been published. The settlements are being drawn up. Society has acknowledged the match.”
“All true,” Lady Beauford agreed. “And yet, I find myself wondering which would cause greater scandal: breaking an engagement before the wedding, or entering a marriage both parties know to be a mistake, only to live in mutual disappointment for decades to come?”
