“Let’s see…are you educated?”
He nodded, proud to have been afforded the privilege of a superlative education. His parents had not robbed him of that, at least. “Eton and Oxford.”
“Impressive, but were you a good student?”
“Not particularly.” He’d had other things on his mind, even back then.
“I’ll mark that down as a ‘no.’ ”
This amused him. She was a harsh critic of her potential future spouse—and rightly so.
“What can you offer me?” Miss Thurston Reid continued interrogating him even as the music stopped.
He reluctantly led her from the dance floor as he answered in all honesty, “Nothing you cannot buy for yourself twice over.”
This amusedher.
“But, as Marchioness of Granborough,” he continued, “you’d be second in precedence only to a duchess. No more queuing for party invitations, as your name would be at the top of every guest list. No more chasing or grasping, as everything and everyone you desire shall be at your fingertips. Were you ever inclined to do good in this world, you could fund charities, open bazaars, sponsor orphans. There is no limit to what you could accomplish as my wife.”
Giles left her to dance with others, but was always drawn back to Louisa Thurston Reid. She was not shy or simpering. She’d made memorable conversation and seemed capable of running a large, demanding household. He liked the way she felt in his arms, and—were he to make a wife of her—Giles must desire her enough to take her to bed.
He would have to do it if he hoped to save the Granborough estate.
At the end of the evening, when the last lingering guests had been escorted from the ballroom and waved down Fifth Avenue, Caroline asked whether any belles had turned his head.
“Englishwomen are the true beauties of the world.” He lamented, “Who even are these American girls? The daughters of carpetbaggers and prospectors. I met one young lady whose family earned their fortune selling horse meat to the Army.”
Cousin Caroline laughed. “Oh, no, surely not!”
“I struggled to keep a straight face.”
“It’s true none of these girls hold a candle to Lady Venia Herbert.” His clever cousin leaned in to whisper, “What does your sweetheart think of your wife hunt?”
He shrugged. “What of it? She is married, and yet it has made no difference in our relationship.” Indeed, Venia’s marriage had made their relationship possible—at least the physical aspect of it, for unwed young women were off-limits as lovers. Only after securing a suitable spouse could one embark on an affair of the heart.
“I remember what a knot of anxiety you were on the day she said her vows. One wonders why you never asked for her yourself.”
The truth of the matter had been made plain to him from the very start. “She required a rich husband as badly as I need a rich wife.”
She’d got one, for Herbert was a shrewd investor with a blood-thirsty reputation. Giles had heard good men down on their luck plead for the sanctuary of debtors’ prison rather than owe the Herberts.
Venia had once offered to speak to her husband on his behalf, for Herbert was a practical, worldly man who lived to pamper his beautiful wife. The gentleman was all too happy to turn a blind eye to Venia’samourso long as she remained discreet.
Giles would never accept Venia’s charity, nor would he transfer his debts to Herbert, so he’d traveled to New York in hopes of acquiring a bride rich enough to save him.
“You’ll find one here, Giles,” said Caroline, conspiratorially. “Take your pick, and you’ll be back in Lady Venia’s arms by Christmas.”
CHAPTER ONE
New York, 1894
Louisa Thurston Reid—Lady Granborough—stood on the top stairs of her family’s mansion. She looked down upon the wedding reception taking place below.
Her guests milled about the palm-lined foyer, ate fat wedges of cake, and toasted Louisa’s success. They wheedled conversation from His Lordship in the parlor, discussed the morning’s events with Mamma, and sympathized with Pappa over losing his daughter to the lure of old Britannia.
Behind her, Louisa’s attendants fussed about her suite of rooms, buzzing like honeybees as they packed her bags and prepared for her journey across the Atlantic. Her wedding dress, a delicious confection of cream satin, tulle, and Brussels lace, was the last item to be wrapped in tissue paper and tucked into her steamer trunk. She would wear it again when being presented at court, her husband had informed her.
For the past three months, His Lordship instructed her on what to expect—and what would be expected of her—once on English soil. Louisa struggled to remember to whom she must curtsey or whether a polite nod of recognition would suffice, how she must address her neighbors, where she must shop, and with whom must she never, ever dine.
