Page 46 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
“We can never guarantee that, no matter our actions.”
“But we can strive to meet our goal, and not look back, doubting ourselves because of inaction.”
Taking another sip, she wished she didn’t love this man, wished she didn’t appreciate what he was striving to accomplish. She knew love spurred his actions. “Why Rexton?”
He lifted a heavy shoulder, dropped it as though it carried a great weight. “I know him. Through racing and gambling. I know he’s not a drunkard, he’s not in debt. He seems to exercise moderation when it comes to vices. He claimed not to have any interest in marriage presently, but I thought once he met Gina, he might change his mind. And if he didn’t, being seen in his company would be a boon for her. There isn’t an unmarried woman in the aristocracy who doesn’t vie for his attention.” He looked down at his shoes. “Does Gina know about the arrangement?”
“Yes.”
His grimace and whispered curse made Tillie soften toward him a bit.
“Did she take it hard?” he asked, true concern and remorse edging his tone.
“No. As a matter of fact, she claims to have no interest in him at all. She accepted his invitations because she was playing matchmaker, striving to pair me with Rexton.”
Her uncle scoffed. “That was jolly stupid. Rexton is heir to a dukedom. He isn’t going to marry a woman with a scandalous past. No aristocrat is going to do that. The only hope for you, my dear girl, is to get thee back to New York.”
The truth of his words hurt. Not that she’d ever considered she could mean something to Rexton. “I’m well aware.”
She spun away from the window and walked to the fireplace, suddenly feeling quite chilled. The new location helped not one iota as no fire burned upon the hearth.
“Don’t take offense, Mathilda. You know I speak true.”
“I know.” But dreams were seldom based on reality. It was what made them dreams. “So you will accompany her to the Claybourne ball next week and not strike deals with any other gentlemen?”
He released a labored sigh. “Perhaps we should hire a matchmaker.”
She faced him. “I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s been seen with Rexton. I know she danced at the last ball, and a couple of gentlemen were eyeing her last night. Without the marquess hovering around her, perhaps someone will take steps to press his suit.”
“I detest balls.”
“And I detest England, yet here we both are—for Gina’s sake. We must see her happy. We made promises, did we not?”
He nodded. “Yes, all right.”
“And do not offer my stallion to anyone else.”
“He wanted Black Diamond badly. With a little negotiating, we could no doubt convince him to marry her.”
“I fear that would only lead to misery.” For everyone involved.
A week passed, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was constantly in her mind, in her dreams as vividly as though he were actually in her bed. It irritated the devil out of her that she’d begun to scour the gossip rags—which she generally avoided because they had focused on her lascivious tale far longer than necessary—but she was desperate for any news of what he might be doing. It didn’t reassure her when she found no mentions of him at all.
What was he? A blasted saint?
It was even worse that she paced the parlor, sipping whisky, her gaze constantly drifting to the clock, as she waited for Gina to return home from the Claybourne ball. Guilt pricked her conscience because she wasn’t truly interested in what sort of success her sister may have had at the affair. Rather she was hoping for some little tidbit about Rexton. What he might have worn, how he might have looked, with whom he may have danced.
She felt like a jealous shrew, although it wasn’t really jealousy she felt. It was loneliness, sharper than she’d ever experienced—soul deep, as though Rexton had been physically torn from her. It was ridiculous, not to be tolerated. She’d fought not to enjoy his company and lost. She’d battled against not being drawn to him and had gone down in defeat. She’d rebelled against being conquered and found herself captivated all the same.
Damn the man. It would be so much easier to discard him if he hadn’t sent Gina a bouquet of roses along with a letter encouraging her not to settle for less than she deserved: a man of the highest caliber. As though he weren’t.
She finished off her whisky, poured some more. Without question he wasn’t. A man of the highest caliber wouldn’t have pretended to be courting her sister, wouldn’t have risked breaking her heart. It didn’t matter that Gina had claimed to have no real interest in him. The potential for heartache had been there. Tillie was all too familiar with how fragile the heart could be.
At the echo of the door opening, she finished off her drink, set aside the glass, and hurried into the foyer, catching Gina just as she reached the stairs. “Did you have a lovely time?”
Her sister swung around, smiled. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“I wanted to. Come into the parlor, we’ll have a drink, and you can tell me everything about your evening.”
