In her bonnet, she was almost unrecognizable. Wearing his hat, he was indistinguishable as well. He wasn’t exactly a known commodity in society.
And when he returned her to her mother’s home, he’d bent low over her hand and held his lips against her glove only a moment. He’d do nothing to bring her further shame.
Driving away, his heart swelled, only to feel empty at the same time.
Her mother had instructed her to break off their betrothal. Mrs. Mossant must have hidden her misgivings earlier that morning. Perhaps she had hoped her daughter would give him the heave-ho on her own.
Justin had no doubt that Rhoda could find a gentleman who would provide well for her. How could she not, despite the scandal surrounding her? Such vibrancy and beauty would be snatched up in a moment.
Likely, her mother knew this.
Blast and damn but if he hadn’t inherited, none of this would be an issue.
Steering the vehicle back toward Prescott House, Justin searched his brain for any answer other than the one involving gambling on a lady’s—on his betrothed’s—virtue.
Again, nothing came to mind. His choices, it seemed, were charity, gambling, or losing her forever. The last he refused to contemplate. Neither could he accept money from Dev.
He handed off the horses and, rather than meet with his cousin again, slipped out the back of the mews.
The thought of never holding her again, of giving her up to another, or her going away left him ice cold.
He strode along the sidewalk, not meeting anybody’s stare. He couldn’t make idle conversation feeling as he did now. Those fathomless warm eyes of hers, so serious and yet lost. She had an independent spirit about her, and yet she needed him desperately. He’d convinced himself of this on more than one occasion.
She needed someone steady and true. She needed someone who would value all of her, laugh at life’s ironies with her.
She neededhim.
Oh, hell, who was he kidding?Heneededher.
Justin stopped and looked up at the plain façade of the building looming above him. But for the small sign by the door, no one would ever guess at what manner of transactions and meetings took place within.
With a deep breath, he entered the club.
It was their only chance.
“Did you tell him?” Her mother peered up from her embroidery and awaited Rhoda’s answer.
“I did.”
Well, she had. She bit her lip and pretended to be interested in a book that lay on one of the end tables.
“How did he take it?”
Rhoda opened the book to a dog-eared page. “Oh, fine.” Best to say as little as possible.
“And that is why you are suddenly interested in propagation techniques?”
Propa… what?“What are you talking about?”
“You are suddenly captivated by my book on grafting.” Rhoda turned the book over.Propagation Techniques: A Practical Guide for Grafting Nut, Fruit, and Ornamental Plants.
Oh.
“You did break it off, didn’t you?”
Rhoda wasn’t handling this very well, and her mother was far too clever to not catch on to her halfhearted efforts.
“I told him. He isn’t happy. I am not happy. But I told him.”
