“Well, you can’t. Only men are allowed in the visitors’ gallery inside the main chamber. Which is dreadful anyway. Rows of long wooden benches stuffed with men in tailcoats and top hats, sweating and pontificating for hours.”
“Women can’t even listen?”
“There are small ventilation apertures in the attic where the smoke from the chandeliers escapes. Some women do peer down from there. Less crowded, but even worse smells and temperature. And no bench upon which to sit. Just a hole to poke one’s head through awkwardly.”
Rather than be repulsed by this description, Miss Dodd’s eyes shone. “It sounds like an unforgettable experience. Will you take me, the next time you attend Parliament, so that I can watch you give your speeches on important matters?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Will you give your speeches to me privately, so that I might be more informed that way?”
“No,” he said again. His heart gave a little pang at the cozy domestic image. Miss Dodd would be exactly the sort of female who would not only listen with rapt attention, but also have unexpected insights of her own.
As good an idea as it was, there was no sense starting something that would not continue. He shouldn’t even be here in the park with her. Buttons was chaperone enough for a young lady. Titus knew better than to get used to someone he was destined to lose.
Miss Dodd did not appear deflated by his reaction. “We didn’t receive the London papers out in Rutland where I grew up. While I’m here, I’ll read every word, and educate myself on the ways of the beau monde as well as the important political issues of our day.”
Titus could not think of a good reason to forbid this plan. True, ladies were not supposed to have vocal political opinions. But a well-informed bride would be Miss Dodd’s future husband’s problem, not Titus’s.
Then again, he was supposed to be marrying her off. His godmother had specifically exhorted him to ensure his ward made the best match possible. His jaw tightened.
So far, all Titus had done was keep her to himself. A miser hoarding his treasure.
“Look!” Miss Dodd pointed up ahead with excitement. “Other people are here on our path.”
“Don’t point,” he snapped. “It’s rude.”
His ire was not with his ward, but with the identity of the three individuals she had spotted. Handsome younger sons of well-respected lords. Any one of them should make an enviable match for Miss Dodd.
“Do you know them?” she whispered.
“Yes.” Which meant when their paths crossed, they would greet Titus by name… and wait expectantly for the earl to introduce the beauty at his side.
A task he would then be obligated to perform. No matter how he felt about it.
The trio were upon them in no time. Titus had no doubt they’d glimpsed his ward’s attractive silhouette and picked up their pace before Titus could come across a convenient fork in the path to whisk his ward away.
“Good morning, Lord Gilbourne,” the men murmured politely, their gazes not on Titus but on Miss Dodd. “How do you do this fine day?”
Miserable. As usual.
He gritted his teeth a few seconds more, just to make them squirm, then made the expected introductions.
All three men were the picture of friendly flattery, but to Titus’s surprise, Miss Dodd reacted not by responding flirtatiously in kind, but by retreating into uncharacteristic silence. At each flirtatious word from the young lords, she closed up more and more, like a flower being deprived of sunlight.
“We must go,” Titus interrupted. “We’re late. Good day.”
He made an about-face that would have been unforgivably rude if he hadn’t offered his curt explanation—and was still abominably discourteous all the same.
But he didn’t care about the lords and their precious feelings. There would be other ladies to flirt with. Other women to court.
All Titus cared about was Miss Dodd.
Chapter 21
Titus waited until they were tucked back into the safety of his home before demanding to know how the lords had offended Miss Dodd, so that Titus could put a stop to it.
Her eyes widened. “No, no. It wasn’t them. It was me.”
