He smirked. It had been quite some time since he’d received so many invitations. Usually he avoided the London social sphere like the plague, and only when absolutely necessary would he darken the door of a ballroom. If he needed an invitation, he simply hinted at it while at Temptations, and the invitation would appear the next day. It was quite simple really.
But overnight, that had all changed.
Which only meant one thing.
The matchmaking mamas of the ton thought he was in search of a wife.
Another wife.
Good Lord.
The day had gone from wretched to bloody horrific.
He could practically feel their assessing stares boring into his back. He glanced about the vacant room, then shuddered. It was his exact description of hell, to have those women circle him like vultures.
Well, he’d have to put a stop to that notion right quick.
But he wasn’t exactly sure how to do such a thing.
Denial wouldn’t work.
And if he showed any favor to any lady, Miss Grace included, it would only make matters worse.
He could, however, escape to Scotland . . . or India. Though eventhatdidn’t seem far enough.
And he wasn’t keen on the idea of traveling just now, not with the silver masquerade approaching at the end of the season. There was much to do to prepare Temptations for the exclusive event. Certainly not the time to be gallivanting about the continent.
He gave a mental glare to Lucas, who was still gallivanting.
Ramsey had a stronger sense of responsibility. He always had.
Even when it cost him everything.
Duty and honor coming first in all things. It was how he was raised, how he was indoctrinated. And it felt as if he were constantly making amends for all the ways he had failed to live up to his father’s expectations of those virtues.
Even with his father deceased these five years, Ramsey had never been able to release the need to achieve his father’s impossible standards. It was a drive, it was a necessity, it was also . . . impossible. Yet that hadn’t stopped him, and he didn’t see how he’d stop any time soon. Pity, but the truth.
He could never restore the lost honor to name or title, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.
Never once had he ever considered that it wasn’t a worthwhile endeavor. It simply was a necessity, like breathing. And since he must breathe, he must also strive.
He tossed the envelopes to the side of the table and served himself tea in the beloved silence of the breakfast room. The light was anemic as it filtered through the windows, signaling a certain rain in the near future. He sipped his tea, ignored the missives, and rather chose to think of . . . nothing at all.
But his mind resisted such a vacation from exertion and soon his eyes flickered back to the invitations. He wondered which event would be selected by Heathcliff to attend that evening. After considering the options, he rather believed it would be none of the above.
It was Wednesday, after all. The proper thing to do would be attend Almack’s.
Good Lord, he could think of a million things he’d rather do than darken that door.
Leeches, a toothache, hell, a broken carriage wheel in the middle of nowhere, all sounded blissful in contrast to the prospect of the society present at Almack’s.
But it was likely going to be a necessary evil, and, as his honor would demand, he would likely call on Heathcliff and ascertain their plans and do his best to assist.
More often than not, he rather hated his sense of honor, and the situations it created.
But to deny it would be like denying a part of himself—impossible.
So it was with a reluctant heart that he finished his tea and the small meal accompanying it, and then ordered his carriage readied.
Sometimes the best way to deal with unsavory circumstances was simply to get them over with, and that was certainly the approach he decided to use today. With any luck, he would find Heathcliff planning to attend Almack’s on the earlier side of the evening, and as such, Ramsey would be able to vacate the premises with alacrity, having the rest of the evening open for other orders of business.
But of course, hope, which sprang eternal, was not as eternally promised to bring about the desired outcome.
