Mr. Frampton waggled his brows. “Would you like me to?”
She swatted at him. “It’s not stealing a kiss if the woman invites you to.”
But now that he’d put the idea into her head… Yes. Yes, she might like Mr. Frampton to steal a kiss. The thought of never experiencing anything but the press of her lips against the viscount’s cadaver teeth was suddenly more than Lady Tabitha could bear.
Like everything else, she would have to bear it anyway. She rolled back her shoulders. Stiff upper lip. She was a marquess’s daughter. Tabitha had never willingly disappointed her father. She definitely would not do so on his deathbed.
“Lady Tabitha!” squealed a familiar voice. It was Nancy Pringle. “Come join us!”
“Please give me a moment,” she murmured to Mr. Frampton. “I’m going to greet a few old friends.”
He inclined his head and dropped back a few feet to give her space.
“Tabitha!” Miss Pringle threw a tipsy arm around her shoulders. “Do you see who I see?”
“Good gracious, how much ratafia have you drunk?” Tabitha tried to peel her friend’s heavy arm from her shoulders.
Miss Pringle pointed across the crowd. “See that man? He’s a French prince. Or a prince from some French-speaking country, I cannot remember. I’m going to marry him and become a princess. Can you introduce me?”
Tabitha pushed down Miss Pringle’s pointing finger, then followed the direction of her gaze. An unknown, exceptionally tall man dressed in impeccable French fashions strolled alongside… a disheveled and unshaven Duke of Southbury?
No, it couldn’t be. The Duke of Southbury famously did not pursue romantic entanglements, or allow a single hair of his ducal head to break free of sartorial perfection. He certainly wouldn’t be at a matchmaking festival looking like he’d just woken up from a full week of carousing.
“That’s no one,” she told Miss Pringle firmly. “Why don’t we find a booth selling nice hot cups of tea, and you can—”
“How many times must I shoo you back to your pen, little piglet?” came a loud voice just behind them.
Tabitha whirled to see Miss Bernice Charlton bearing down on Miss Matilda Dodd, a sweet country girl Tabitha had befriended. She clenched her fists. Bernice had been proclaimed the “diamond” of the ton two years running, and never let the other unwed ladies forget it. Apparently, the diamond felt compelled to exert her dominance over rural young women as well.
“Bernice, stop it.” Tabitha reached her side in two strides. “Haven’t you a cauldron to go and stir?”
Bernice glared at Tabitha. “Well, if it isn’t the future viscountess. I suppose you think you’re better than all the rest of us, because you’ve got a title on the hook.”
“I don’t think I’m better than any—”
“For your information, I will soon have a title on the hook as well. This little piglet’s guardian is none other than the Earl of Gilbourne. Who is here shepherding our little piglet, which makes him ripe for the plucking,” Bernice finished in satisfaction.
“I… don’t even know how to untangle that mixed metaphor,” Tabitha said. “If you think you can enamor the earl, go and try your best, but leave poor Miss Dodd out of it.”
Bernice harrumphed and flounced off, her entourage trailing her like pastel ducklings.
“Thank you for saving me yet again,” said Miss Dodd, then glanced over Tabitha’s shoulder and frowned. “Look, an older gentleman is heading this way. Isn’t that—”
“No,” Tabitha groaned, and slowly turned around. “Please tell me it’s not my intended.”
It was.
Viscount Oldfield had arrived at the festival—and had been here for who knew how long. He was also flagrantly peering down the bodices of every young woman within eyesight. None of whom was his future bride.
They were debutantes. Five or more years younger than Tabitha.
“Must you marry him?” Miss Dodd asked with obvious repugnance.
“Unfortunately, yes. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t know I was betrothed to Lord Oldfield,” Tabitha answered. “When I was young, it didn’t seem real. Part of me thought I could still have a normal come-out with suitors, flowers, and a chance to fall in love. But that’s not my lot. Yes, I must marry him. I have no choice.”
Miss Dodd shook her head. “There’s always choices. Look at him, making choices left and right. My advice? If you want to fall in love before you get married, do it.”
Tabitha gave a sad chuckle. “If only it were so easy. No gentleman will come near me. The viscount comports himself exactly as you see before you, but when it comes to me… He’s let it be known that I am his property. The lack of vows don’t matter, because he’s staked his claim.”
