Page 33 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
That was the impression she had, anyway. He was showing Gina off like some sort of prize he’d won at a country fair. Which she knew was totally unfair of her. He was doing everything right, behaving properly. She shouldn’t find fault with it. And yet, she did.
The gorgeous crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling did not give off much light. A tall candle burned in the center of the table, and she had to look over the flame to see him because he sat opposite her. Gina sat between them. Rexton was turned her sister’s way, leaning toward her as though he found her discourse on Jane Austen the most fascinating conversation he’d ever experienced, yet every now and then he slid his eyes toward Tillie and in that second, his gaze shifted from interested to smoldering. She told herself it was an illusion caused by looking at him through the flickering candle flame, and yet the heat that swamped her had nothing at all to do with a burning wick. It had everything to do with the way he could make her feel as though his true interest resided with her.
Then his eyes were back on Gina, and they seemed to cool, as though he were indulging a favorite cousin or sister. Was it just wishful thinking on her part, and why would she wish for his attention? If she could steal him away from Gina, then he wasn’t deserving of her sister—but was it worth hurting Gina to determine the truth, even though Gina had asked her to do precisely that?
She’d expected to be a good judge of his character; yet the emotions somersaulting through her only served to confuse her. Taking a sip of the excellent wine he’d procured for them helped calm her nerves and dulled her awareness of those surrounding them.
Suddenly he reached out and moved the candle aside.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“It obstructs my view, makes it more difficult to include you in the conversation.”
“You don’t have to include me. All your attention should be on Gina.”
“Not tonight. You’re here as my guest. It would be rude to ignore you completely.”
“I have no objection to your rudeness.”
The smile he gave her called her a liar. “But you’re judging me, and my suitability. Inclusion would make your job easier. Besides I’m curious. Do you agree with your sister that Mr. Darcy truly exists, that he was in fact a gentleman, a neighbor, whom Miss Austen favored but their love went unrequited?”
“I’m quite surprised you know who Mr. Darcy is. Have you ever readPride and Prejudice?”
“I have. My sister was quite fond of the story when she was younger. The mischievous minx informed me that if I ever wished to win a lady’s heart I needed to follow Darcy’s example. Being young myself, and of a romantic bent, I was open to searching for the magic potion that would entice ladies to flock to me. I found him to be rather pompous.”
He had read a book in order to appeal to ladies? Did he not realize he had a natural charisma that could not be found between leather covers? That no doubt flourished between silk ones. “He is rather... prideful. Although he has his reasons, and in the end, he quite charmed Elizabeth, didn’t he?”
“But was he based on fact? Was he indeed Austen’s unrequited love?”
She glanced over at Gina, whose expression for some unfathomable reason was hopeful. “I suppose it makes the story more appealing to believe he did exist.”
“Do you find unrequited love romantic?”
“I find it tragic.”
“But I suspect there is a good deal of it,” Gina said. “Especially among the aristocracy. Your lot seldom marries for love, do they, my lord?”
He gave her an indulgent grin. “More often than not other considerations are placed above love.”
“Will you marry for love?” Tillie asked pointedly.
“Did you?”
The trap had been set, and she’d taken the bait, blast him. “We’re not here to discuss me.”
“Why not? My mother often says when one marries, one marries into a family. It seems I should know as much about you as I do of Gina.”
Gina’s eyes rounded, her lips parted slightly, at the hint he might indeed be offering marriage in the very near future. Rexton seemed not to notice as his gaze was homed in on Tillie and she feared he’d witnessed her stomach dropping to the floor with his pronouncement, his possible unintentional admission that he was seriously considering Gina for the role of future marchioness. Of course he was. He wouldn’t be courting her otherwise, wouldn’t have escorted her to the theater, wouldn’t have invited her to dine with him this evening. She didn’t know why she and her sister were having such odd reactions: disappointment on her part, surprise on Gina’s.
“In considering your decision, my lord, all you need to know about me is that I shall scarcely be in your lives. Once Gina is married, I shall be returning to New York.” She would begin her life anew there, leave behind this wretched existence.
Silence stretched between them. It was the only indication that her words had taken him off guard. His features seemed to be set in stone. Nothing moved. Not an eyelash fluttered, not a tick in the muscles below his sharp cheekbones, not a tightening of his chiseled jaw. Finally he leaned back as though coming to some resolution regarding her and directed his attention to Gina. “Were you aware your sister was leaving?”
Lips pressed together, sadness reflected in her eyes, Gina nodded. “Although I don’t know why she can’t stay here. People tonight don’t seem to be glaring at her as much as they did at the theater.”
“The glares have nothing to do with it,” Tillie lied. They had something to do with it, but not everything. “I’ve never been happy in this country.”
“So you’ve stayed only for me?”
