Page 96 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
“But others’ actions and words reach beyond me.” Tenderly she touched her sister’s cheek. “They touch those I love. They touch you. Look at this Season. You should be the belle of the balls, with suitors streaming through our front door every afternoon, and flowers filling the entryway every morning. But you aren’t, because of me.”
“Maybe you’re not the reason I haven’t had an abundance of suitors. Perhaps I’m to blame. Perhaps I’m not lovable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Don’t doubt yourself. All the lords want heiresses, Gina. When I’m gone you’ll have a dozen men from whom to choose. Just don’tsamplethem.”
Gina’s lips curled up teasingly. “Not even a kiss from each of them?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Without you here, I don’t know that I’ll have it within me to restrain and behave.”
“I shall be hiring a proper chaperone before I leave.” An older woman with a keen eye and sharp tongue to keep the gents in line.
A rap sounded on the door just before it opened and a maid stuck her head inside. “Mr. Hammersley has arrived.”
“Tell Uncle I’ll be down in a moment,” Gina said, before turning back to Tillie. “Are you sure you won’t come?”
“I’m sure.”
“I hate that you’re letting them win.” She pushed herself off the bed, gathered her wrap and fan, turned for the door, stopped, and looked back at Tillie. “Although perhaps if Rexton can’t have you, he’ll settle for the sister.”
Tillie felt as though Gina had picked up the poker and stabbed it through her heart. “I don’t think you’d suit.”
“You might be right, but whatever you’re feeling right now, imagine how much worse it’s going to be when you read of his betrothal in the papers.”
“You’re a little witch.”
Gina smiled brightly. “I can be. Just think about it, Tillie.”
She wasn’t going to think about it—about Rexton with someone else. She wanted him to have the happiness he deserved. Even if it wasn’t with her.
Following her sister to the stairs, she repeated that unsatisfying litany. She watched as her sister descended the steps, maid in tow to serve as chaperone, watched as her uncle greeted Gina before glancing up at her and giving her a put-upon nod, watched as they walked out of the residence. Without her, as it should be.
She wandered into her bedchamber and came up short at the sight of the lavender ball gown spread over her bed, the gilded invitation lying in wait in the center of the bodice. Her sister was dastardly in her ploys. “Oh, Gina.”
Carefully she picked up the vellum as though she expected it to burn her fingers. Perhaps she should attend so Gina—and Rexton—would finally understand exactly why it was impossible for her to stay. What did she have to lose? She’d already lost the only man who mattered.
Chapter 22
Rexton had the right of it. Within his parents’ residence, the grand salon—as well as other nearby rooms—were stuffed with an assortment of people swarming through them, while other guests spilled out onto the terrace and into the gardens. He was reminded of a beehive he’d once watched in fascination as a boy. Only this was not nearly as entertaining.
Because he had requested the affair, he was obligated to stay in the ballroom and partner up with ladies for conversation and an occasional dance. But even he required a respite now and then. This moment was the first he’d had alone, without conversation. Sipping the champagne, he fought not to think of Tillie, of how he’d wanted this night to show her the past could be forgotten—or at the very least not whispered about as loudly.
He’d seen Gina arrive with her uncle, the blasted maid in tow to serve as chaperone. But then he was aware of everyone who’d accepted the invitation because they were announced at the top of the stairs before beginning their descent into what for him was rapidly becoming the bowels of hell. No conversation intrigued him, merely reminded him of the countless discussions he’d had with Tillie. Every word they’d ever exchanged was emblazoned on his memory. No dance partner satisfied him. While he’d never danced with Tillie, he’d held her in his arms and they literally ached to hold her once more. He couldn’t quite envision it: never again inhaling her fragrance, never again gazing into her eyes, never again hearing her voice. Never again making love to her.
It was quite possible he’d die without issue as he couldn’t imagine any other woman stirring his desires, igniting his passions. She had spoiled him, and he couldn’t quite work up the enthusiasm to be with any other woman.
Even preparing for tonight’s venture had been an exercise in fortitude not only for himself but for his valet. Rexton hadn’t shaved since the evening he walked—no, stormed—out of Tillie’s residence. He might not have taken a razor to his face earlier if his valet hadn’t warned him he looked like a wild beast. He’d straightened himself up only because he didn’t want his mother to worry, when in truth, he didn’t give a damn about his appearance or much else for that matter.
“Are you drinking champagne?”
Supposing he should be grateful for the intrusion into his downwardly spiraling thoughts, he glanced over at his brother. “It was all I could find.”
“You used to live here. Surely you know where to locate the better stuff.” Andrew took Rexton’s glass and tossed the bubbly contents into the fern’s pot.
“It’s likely to kill the plant.”
“Purchase Mother a new one.” Andrew removed a flask from his jacket pocket and filled the flute with amber liquid before handing it back to Rexton. “You look like you’re in desperate need of something stronger.”
