To her relief, the dance came to an end, and she slipped free of him under the pretence of curtsying. “I should speak to the Duke, my lord. Pray excuse me.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and ploughed through the crush.
Her mother would rebuke her for this, but surely—surely—she would not be expected to marry the Earl of Whitstable.
She found Annabelle in a corner, her dance card all but empty, and with a glass of punch in her hand.
“There you are,” Annabelle said with a wide smile. Blonde where Theo had dark hair, the sisters appeared as opposites except for their blue eyes. “Did you manage to run from him after all?”
“He has spoken to Papa,” Theo wailed. “And it seems all but settled. Anna, what am I todo?”
“Can you not repulse him?”
“He is immune to any repulsion I can offer.”
Annabelle twirled a curl around her finger as she thought. “If Henry were here, he might be able to intervene.”
“What use is an older brother when he’s abroad fighting for King and Country?” Theo gave a frustrated sigh. “Besides, if thisisthe only chance at saving the estate, he’d probably feel the same way, seeing as he’ll inherit.”
“You could always refuse to go through with the wedding.”
“Icould.” And Theo had thought about it, dreamt about refusing to walk down the aisle to her doddery husband-to-be.
Then after, inevitably, came the daydream that followed. She failed to find a husband and her family lost everything—their house, their final remaining carriage, what little respect they still held in theton. If she refused the only offerof marriage that she had, she was condemning her family to poverty.
Annabelle squeezed Theo’s hand sympathetically. “In that case, the only thing for it is to find another gentleman prepared to propose. Someone younger—though just as rich.”
“I’m looking for solutions, not miracles,” Theo said dryly. If finding someone to marry her was as easy as that, she would have done it by now.
Annabelle glanced behind her and winced. “The Earl is headed this way.”
“Make my excuses.” Theo darted past a lady with an oversized fan, past a vase mounted on a pedestal, and out to the patio doors. She slipped between them, thankful for the brisk air. She leant against the wall and tilted her head to the sky.
Peace. Quiet.Finally.
“Theo?” Nathanial asked. “Are you all right?”
She jerked, knocking the back of her head against the stone, and rubbed it ruefully as she looked at her friend. The dark concealed the details of his face, but she knew them regardless: brown curls above grey eyes, a straight nose, thin lips. Handsome, in a careless way.
“You scared me,” she said. “What are you doing creeping around like that?”
“What are you doing hiding on the patio?” he countered.
“If you must know, I’m hiding from the Earl of Whitstable. He’s already forced me into one dance, and you may be certain he will force me into another.” Theo looked into Nathanial’s shadowed face. “And you?”
“My mother is determined to see me dance with as many eligible young ladies as possible,” he said, mimicking her stance and leaning one shoulder against the wall. “I’m almost tempted to develop a limp.”
“At least you do nothaveto marry them.”
“My mother would disagree.”
Theo laughed, then sighed, gazing across the garden. Flaming torches seemed to coax more shadows from the darkness than they revealed. “Mine, too. She is determined to marry me to the Earl.”
Nathanial’s gaze returned to her face, suddenly intense. “The Earl of Whitstable?”
“The very same.”
“But he must be above fifty.”
“Yes, but he’s rich and prepared to marry me without a dowry,” Theo said. “And you must know I need to marry well.”
