Page 18 of The Marriage Wager

“I have a dreary tendency to do what is expected of me.”

“And you wish to make me do the same?” he asked lightly.

“No. I wish to make my own time there more lively,” she told him, a grin dimpling her cheek. “You know Mother and Father invite the most dreadfully dull group of people. I merely attempt to liven it up.”

Her eyes lit up, and she turned to Constance excitedly. “You must come with me.”

Constance looked back at her, surprised. “To visit your parents?”

“It isn’t just a family gathering,” Francesca assured her. “They have a large party at Redfields every year. That’s our country house. It’s a huge, old rambling place, and they have dozens of guests.”

“Our father and mother and a dreadfully dull guest list hardly make it sound appealing, Francesca,” her brother pointed out, grinning.

“Oh, but it won’t be dull,” Francesca told Constance earnestly. “You mustn’t think that. I will make sure to invite a number of interesting people.”

Her eyes were bright; one could almost see the thoughts spinning through her head. Constance had the suspicion that what Francesca meant by “interesting people” was marriageable men.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Francesca added, “It will be a perfect opportunity for you to meet people.”

“But your parents do not even know me,” Constance protested automatically, although the prospect of attending a country party was quite alluring.

“That won’t matter. And there will be people you know. I will attend, and my friend, Sir Lucien Talbot. I will introduce you to him tonight. And Dominic will be there.”

“I will?” he repeated, sounding amused.

“Yes, of course, you will. You have avoided them long enough. It is high time you went to visit them, and you know it. Far easier, don’t you think, with a house full of people?”

“You may have a point.”

Constance wondered what trouble lay between Lord Leighton and his parents. It sounded as though he had been avoiding them for some time, and she could not help but be curious about what manner of thing could have so separated his father from the heir.

Their barouche drew up behind a line of carriages that were disgorging their finely dressed occupants. Leighton stepped out and handed first his sister, then Constance, out of the carriage. A woman from another vehicle immediately swooped down upon Francesca, pulling her along as she talked animatedly.

Lord Leighton offered his arm to Constance, and they followed at a more leisurely pace. She hoped that the viscount could not feel the slight trembling of her fingers upon his arm. Being this near to him did funny things to her insides, she found, and her mind was peculiarly blank.

The silence grew, and Constance felt awkward. She cast about anxiously for something to say. “Will you go then to the party at Redfields?”

“Perhaps.” She could feel his shrug. He looked down at her and smiled, a wicked light gleaming in his dark blue eyes. “If you will be there, the idea of going has much more appeal.”

Constance felt a little breathless at his words, but she struggled to appear nonchalant. “I fear, sir, that you are a terrible flirt.”

He chuckled. “You misjudge me, Miss Woodley.”

She noticed that he had not actually denied her words, and that fact made her feel a little downcast. She told herself not to be foolish. It was clear what sort of man Lord Leighton was. She had known it from the moment he kissed her at the party the other night. Even his own sister had warned her of it, however lightly Francesca had said it.

But that was precisely what she wanted, after all—fun and flirtation. That was the purpose of her one Season. To dance and laugh and enjoy herself. Whatever Francesca thought, Constance did not intend to look for a husband. She wanted only to have something to remember.

They caught up with Francesca at the door to the Simmingtons mansion, and the other woman turned to them with relief, leaving her voluble companion. They joined a line of people snaking up the stairs and into the grand ballroom. Francesca and her brother were greeted by the people around them, and there was a steady stream of guests coming up to say hello before returning to their places in line. Constance was aware of the multitude of curious glances turned in her direction.

Francesca introduced her to a dizzying number of people. Constance was sure she would never be able to remember all the names. Francesca turned to her and leaned closer to whisper, “You are causing quite a stir tonight.”

“I am?” Constance looked at her in surprise. She knew she had received a number of looks, but she had assumed that people were simply curious about why someone as unknown as she was with Lady Haughston and Lord Leighton.

“Oh, yes.” Francesca nodded with a satisfied little smile. “They are wondering who that beautiful woman is with us.”

Constance chuckled. “I am sure not.”

“It’s the truth!” Francesca protested. “Why do you think so many people have felt the need to stop to say hello? They are all hoping to meet you.”