She led Olivia out of the room while Isadora and Araminta gathered the flowers and followed them to their waiting carriage.
When they arrived at the townhouse, Araminta noticed a familiar figure sitting atop his horse. She glanced to Isadora as she handed over her bouquet to a waiting footman. “I’ll be just a moment.”
Isadora said nothing, but the slightly condemning look on her face spoke volumes as she disappeared inside the house with her sisters. “Good day, Lord Somers.” Araminta greeted him cordially.
He tipped his hat at her. “Lady Araminta. I see Olivia has made it home safely. Dare I hope that means she suffers no ill effects from her dip in the freezing Thames?”
“She’s doing very well.” She paused, unsure of what to say in the bright light of a new day. She twisted her hands before her. “The flowers you sent were beautiful.”
He smiled broadly. “I can only hope they lifted her spirits.” He hesitated and then added, “And yours.”
Araminta’s heart sank. The earl was being so considerate that she didn’t want him to believe that she was being overtly discourteous if she told him that their association could never be more than what it was, but Isadora’s taunting reminder the day before kept replaying over in her mind. She had been the one who had insisted they could make their own way in society without the bonds of matrimony. To go back on her word nearly the moment they set foot in London would make her appear the worst sort of hypocrite in all of her sibling’s eyes. If she didn’t wish to break their trust in her, she had to let the earl go.
“Is something amiss, Lady Araminta?”
She clasped her hands before her and did her best to appear unaffected by what she was about to do. “Actually, my lord, there is. After yesterday, I realized that I’ve been selfish in allowing my fondness for you to overrule my good sense. I have enjoyed our interludes more than you can imagine, but I fear this must go no further than a polite acquaintance. My sisters come first, as they always have. We have made a vow to stick together, and I intend to honor that promise.”
Grey’s heartwas pounding as if he’d run a considerable distance, although he hadn’t moved an inch. “I see.” Perhaps he’d been coming on too strong. After all, he wasn’t used to courting a lady to ensure that it went beyond a temporary affair. “Perhaps if I gave you some time—”
“No. I’m afraid that it’s just not possible.” She offered him a tight smile, and he had to wonder if it was because she was growing irritated with him and trying not to let her frustration show, or if it was something… more. “I must go. Good day, my lord.”
She was gone before he could even call out her name. But as she disappeared inside the house, he glanced at the parlor window as the curtain fell back into place, but not before he saw a dark head move away. He frowned lightly, but he supposed that answered his earlier thought. He would bet his horse that Lady Isadora was behind Araminta’s reticence to retain his company.
He urged his mount forward and wondered if he shouldn’t just reconsider his choice and find someone else to wed, but at the same time he realized it would be a fruitless endeavor. While females on the hunt for a title were plentiful in London, he wanted someone who saw him as Greyson Hartfield and not just the Earl of Somers.
But how would he go about charming that dragon of a sister?
He abruptly smiled, for he realized thathewouldn’t need to. There was someone he had in mind that would be perfect for the job.
Grey made a detour and headed for White’s, where he knew the gentleman he was looking for would likely be. He’d met Remington Fletcher, the Marquess of Osgood, through a combined business venture to see the first steam locomotive railroad come to pass in England. An eight-mile stretch of track from Stockton to Darlington that easily and more efficiently transported coal to the ships on the coast for easier shipment had turned out to be a very profitable investment for both of them. Even though the line had opened just three months prior, the amount that could be hauled was more than double than if carted by wagon and horses alone.
And considering they had embarked on one successful journey together, Grey decided that they could do it again.
He walked through the doors of the hallowed walls of the men’s only exclusive club and found Rem right where he knew he’d be, seated at the Duke of Wellington’s honored table near the front bow window, whose distinction had included Beau Brummell and Lord Alvanley in the past. To be offered a seat there was likened to being sent an invitation as a personal guest to the palace.
With one leg crossed over the other, a glass of brandy at his elbow and holding a paper in his grasp, Grey knew it was Rem simply because of the russet colored hair that was visible beneath the print. Very few men of his acquaintance had such copper-colored hair, but Rem likely got his in light of his Scottish ancestry. There were rumors that he was a descendant from a distant line of Highland lairds, but as far as Grey knew, he’d never bothered to confirm nor deny the birthright, for he had little to do with those roots, preferring his comfortable life in England.
“You lead such an exciting life, Osgood, considering you spend most of your time here rather than at home. What is so fascinating about London if you never choose to partake of its particular delights?”
A snort preceded the paper as a corner was brought down to reveal the marquess’ dry expression. “And what would you have me do, Somers? Attend every ball hoping that I might be mobbed by a marriage-minded mother hoping to foist her empty headed chit at my feet?”
Grey shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to set up a nursery now that you are well off.”
The paper was put back in place. “Indeed. I shall consider it the moment you wish to settle down,” he muttered, and it was obvious he thought Grey would do no such thing.
“Actually, thereissomeone…”
This time the newsprint was carefully folded and set to the side as the marquess crossed his arms over his chest. “I daresay I never imagined I would live to see the day that the Earl of Somers was brought to heel.” He waved a hand toward the empty seat across from him, and Grey sat down. The moment he did, a waiter walked over to take his order. The servant returned shortly thereafter with the same brandy that Osgood had chosen.
Grey took a fortifying sip and relished the soothing, rich flavor as it slid down his throat. With a sigh, he said, “Surely you didn’t imagine that my mother would allow me to remain single forever, did you? Besides,” he shrugged his shoulders. “This woman is… different.”
“I can’t imagine how,” the marquess drawled. “They all become rather tiring after a time.”
Grey focused on the activity outside the window. “Not Lady Araminta.”
There was a brief pause before his companion said, “Are you referring to the Duke of Marlington’s gels?”
Grey’s gaze slid back. “I see word gets around.”
