For the right woman, he would be the best option. That was what would make her The One and lift her above any other. There would never be any question of having settled for less than what they wanted. No chance of love souring into resentment. Just happy ever after.
“Thad!” A familiar head popped out from one of the supper-boxes and motioned him over.
Grinning, he made his way toward his cousin. “Diana!”
“Your Grace, the Duchess of Colehaven,” she corrected with a saucy grin. “That’s how titles work.”
He widened his eyes. “I don’t know about titles, madam. I haven’t got one of my own.”
She rapped his knuckles with her fan. “That’ll be ‘Your Grace’ to you, sir.”
“Ow!” He pretended to shake the pain from his fingers. “Why are you carrying a fan? It’s March. At night.”
“We arrived before sunset,” she answered primly. “And besides, it’s unseasonably warm. Can you recall such a clear night?”
He glanced up at the stars spanning the heavens and had to admit it was indeed an exceptional night.
“How was supper?” he asked.
Her eyes brightened. “For the first course, footmen brought out heavy trays filled with—”
But Thad was no longer paying attention. He had just caught sight of two young ladies making their way straight toward them. One was Lady Felicity, the Duke of Colehaven’s younger sister. The other was…
Priscilla.
She was far more beautiful than any flower the pleasure gardens had on display. It wasn’t the soft curls of her brown hair or the scarlet pelisse over a midnight blue gown, but the woman herself. Stubborn and confident and clever. Nothing else could steal his breath like the merest glimpse of her.
“If you like her,” Diana said with dry amusement, “then you ought to put a ring on her.”
“What?” he stammered, suddenly aware that he’d cut her off mid-sentence to stare slack-jawed at one of her friends. “I don’t like anything. I’m very unlikeable. A miser of likes.”
“False. You had an expression usually reserved for puppies and kittens,” Diana said. “It was the ahhh face. The I-would-snuggle-with-that face. The I-want-it-in-my-arms-right-now face. And you were making it at… Priscilla.”
“What?” he spluttered. “Priscilla? I’ve never thought of her as anything other—”
But Diana was already doubled over with laughter. “Deny it now, cousin. I dare you. You were making Priscilla the ahhh face. The ohh face. The—”
“When I want your opinion,” he growled under his breath. “I’ll tell you.”
“No sparks?” she asked innocently.
“Several sparks,” he admitted. “But she wants to be the heroine of a different story.” He looked away. “It doesn’t matter what I want, if she doesn’t want it, too.”
“Talk to her,” Diana suggested. “Tell her you like her at least as much as your kitten.”
“I’m glad you’re Colehaven’s problem now,” he informed her, and strode toward Priscilla.
When she caught sight of him, her expression melted suspiciously close to an ahhh face before she shuttered all emotion away and whispered something into the ear of her companion.
Felicity immediately made a hard turn in the direction of the Colehavens’ supper-box.
Priscilla remained on the far side of the open area, buffeted by streams of passers-by heading to and from the manicured walks.
He was there in ten strides.
“Not here,” she hissed before he could so much as greet her.
She disappeared behind a hedgerow, leaving him no choice but to follow behind.
