Page 67 of An Offer for a Spinster
“It’s not aboutlikinghim,” Constance scoffed. “It’s a good match. And she’s an odd one, everyone knows that. She’ll get a lot of money, though.”
Yes, and it’ll go straight to him,Timothy thought sourly. Something heavy had landed in his stomach when he first heard the news. Something painful, something that wouldn’t go away no matter how he twisted or shifted.
The engagement was official now. She wouldn’t risk going back, because then she was almost certainly not to have an engagement for the rest of the Season, and Timothy knew that couldn’t happen. He knew the truth.
He felt sick.
“I think I’d better go,” he said, rising to his feet. He felt shaky, as if his knees might give out at any moment. “Thank you for the tea, Mother.”
Lady Rustford nodded. She looked bored. Amelia, at least, looked anxious.
“You’re leaving so soon, Timothy? Are you alright? Are you upset?”
“No,” Timothy lied smoothly. “I’m not upset. Why would I be upset?”
She said nothing, and he left before he could think twice about it.
Timothy dashed off a quick note to William, asking him to meet in the club. They had a great deal to discuss.
He sat in their usual corner, nursing a brandy which was too soon in the day to drink, and tried to collect his thoughts.
What am I even going to say?
I’m love with your sister, Will. I’m well aware that she just agreed to marry another man, but could it be because she had no other options?
No, that sounded wrong. Besides, why was he assuming that he was a better choice than Lord Barwood?
Well, anyone who’s ever met Lord Barwood would admit…
He paused, jerked out of his thoughts by a flurry of drunken laughter from across the club. One voice in particular was familiar.
Timothy got tentatively to his feet, craning his neck.
Oh, bother.
Sure enough, there was Lord Barwood, gathered with a clump of friends. They were clearly celebrating his engagement, and were roaring with tipsy laughter.
Wonderful. Timothy sat down with a thump, clenching his teeth against the sudden surge of anger welling up inside him.
“Sir, a message for you,” a footman materialized at his elbow, handing over a neatly folded note with the Willoughby crest on it. Timothy guessed what it would say before he even opened it.
Sorry, Timothy. Can’t meet today. Another time, though.
Your Friend, Will
So that was that, then. Timothy’s chance to bare his heart to his friend was not going to work.
Probably for the best,he thought gloomily.What were you going to say, anyway? What good would it do? Katherine’s made her decision.
He hunkered down as two laughing men staggered their way, leaning against the long, polished bar, snapping fingers at a distant footman. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the men were Lord Barwood and a friend.
“She was having second thoughts, I could tell,” Lord Barwood slurred. “So I went ahead with announcing the engagement. It’s better in the long run, you know.”
“Quite agree, old chap,” the other man hiccupped. “Ladies often don’t understand these things. Best not to let them be troubled with too many decisions, eh?”
“Amen, amen. I was thinking of asking the brother for an advance on her inheritance – heaven knows the bills are piling up for me – but I decided against it. They might think I’m only interested in her money.”
“Youareonly interested in her money,” the other man said, and they both chuckled.
