He kept his expression neutral through sheer force of will.“I haven’t yet found a woman willing to overlook my lack of forethought in not coming into the world an earl in my own right.”His hosts laughed, although their daughter did not join in.
“Truthfully,” Frau von Ostenfeld continued, like a dog with a bone, “you must be much in demand amongst London’s young ladies.I believe if you haven’t yet found the right one, it is because you are as particular in your choice of a wife as you are fastidious in your mapmaking.”
Jonathan was taken aback, but she was, in fact, correct.Unfortunately, his fastidiousness counted for nothing, if the woman he desired was promised to another man.And that was his current situation in a nutshell.
“Elsabeth,” Herr von Ostenfeld said mildly.“Leave the man in peace.He did not come here to be interrogated about his matrimonial intentions.”
But Frau von Ostenfeld was not finished, sailing on like a ship at full mast.“You should be thinking of settling down, my lord, at your age.Establishing a household with some capable, fertile lady.And having children.”She glanced at her daughter, as did Jonathan.
The thin white line of Lise’s luscious lips pressed tightly together told him she didn’t wish to contemplate his future wife any more than he did.Then it got worse with Frau von Ostenfeld’s next words.
“Lise will be married soon.To Friedrich Albrecht.Perhaps you will meet him while you are in the area.His family’s estate is scarcely two hours away, so he comes to visit often.”
There it was.At last, the name.Friedrich Albrecht.What a dreadful name for an undoubtedly horrid man, unworthy of Lise von Ostenfeld!
Jonathan reached for his wine, buying himself a moment to master the irrational surge of jealousy that threatened to choke him.He had no right to it.No claim on Lise whatsoever.She had been promised to this man long before Jonathan had ever laid eyes on her.
And yet the thought of her married to someone else, of this Friedrich fellow’s rough — or perhaps too soft—hands on her, was enough to make him want to pound his fist on the table like a barbarian.Instead, he held up the glass of fine crystal.
“I congratulate you, Miss von Ostenfeld, and look forward to making your betrothed’s acquaintance if at all possible.”After his impromptu toast, Jonathan drained his glass, proud of how level his voice had been and how polite his words.
“He is a good man,” Herr von Ostenfeld said.“We’ve known him since he was a boy.Our families have been friends for two generations.Lise and Friedrich will be the third one, and the one that joins the families.”
“It was an arranged marriage, then?”Jonathan asked, though he didn’t know why he was prolonging the distasteful conversation.“A childhood betrothal?”
“Not quite.”Frau von Ostenfeld helped herself to another cabbage roll.“But the verbal understanding has been in place for some years.”
Her father chimed in.“It is a fine match.The Albrechts are well-respected.Their oldest son, Captain Albrecht, is Henrik’s commanding officer.And Lise’s betrothed is clever in business.I believe he will have a successful trading empire one day.”
Jonathan nodded, as though this was merely interesting information and not a knife twisting in his gut.“Miss von Ostenfeld is fortunate, then.”
Lise’s head came up at that, and she looked directly at him.Her blue eyes were stormy, unreadable, but he could see the faint color rising in her cheeks.
“Yes,” she echoed.“Very fortunate.”
Liar, he thought.But perhapshewas the liar, projecting his own desperate hope onto her.Perhaps she was perfectly content with her arranged marriage.What had happened in London may have been nothing more than a moment’s curiosity by a young woman who hadn’t yet experienced a passionate encounter.It may have been a fleeting impulse she now regretted.
Deeplyregretted, if her lack of welcome was any indication.
The thought that she had moved past his inappropriate seduction should have brought him relief.It didn’t, not in the least.
The conversation, thankfully, changed tack again.Herr von Ostenfeld expounded on local politics, in which Jonathan had little interest, on the latest movements of the French troops, in which he had a great deal of interest, and lastly, on the damage done to the roads by some hard rains of late.That could affect him greatly, if it made his travel difficult.
Jonathan responded when required, asked appropriate questions, gave no sign that his attention was anywhere but on the conversation at hand.
But beneath the table, his hands clenched into fists.And with the penchant for detail that made him an excellent mapmaker, he noticed how Lise chewed slowly, the precise way she touched her napkin to her lips, and how her pulse fluttered visibly beneath the skin in the hollow at the base of her throat.He had kissed that exact spot.
Jonathan was aware, with a clarity bordering on painful, what a fool he was being.Worse than a fool, he was behaving dishonorably!He had compromised her once already.To pursue her further, knowing she was betrothed, knowing the damage it could do to her reputation and to her family, was unconscionable.
And yet here he sat, drinking her father’s wine, accepting her mother’s smiles, and thinking thoughts that would see him called out if they were known.
“Lord Bowen?”
He blinked, realizing he’d missed something.Frau von Ostenfeld was looking at him expectantly.
“Forgive me.I was wool-gathering.”
“I asked whether you have time after dinner for a stroll around our estate.”
