Page 49 of The Earl’s Hoyden

It was a small gesture of comfort that nearly collapsed Hannah’s tenuous control over the tide of her emotions. She merely nodded and allowed them to guide her toward the front of the townhouse.

This was why she wanted her future to be one surrounded by the love of friends rather than that of a man. Whatever existed between her and Lord Brightstone had been exhilarating, yes, but it had also been fraught with hurt and uncertainty. And mortification.

With friends, she did not have to worry about losing herself to her emotions. She did not have to worry about rejection. And most assuredly, she did not have to worry about a proposal of courtship out of pity.

Why had her father gone to Lucien? And why had Lucien taken it upon himself to ask to court her after admitting his guilt?

It was better for her to know from the start, of course. Better than her allowing Lucien to court her, becoming further invested in his affection, then realizing later that it had all been done because he felt bad for her. Because she was so pathetic, she could not attract a husband on her own.

Fresh tears stung her eyes.

Yes, a life spent in the company of her friends would be far better than one riddled with this unending agony.

The following morning, Hannah did not feel any better. If anything, she felt far worse. A night of sobbing into her pillow left her eyes gritty and swollen, which made what she read in the scandal sheets all the more miserable.

Lucien…no, she mustn’t think of him with such familiarity any longer—Lord Brightstone had officially been declared the most eligible bachelor of the season.

Lord B has been hiding in plain sight all these years and has finally allowed himself to truly be seen. The ladies are all aflutter over this blue-eyed earl whose estates include…

Hannah closed the paper and set it forcefully on the table.

“Hannah, dearest,” Lady Westwich said gently. “What is the matter? First, you leave your friend’s ball extremely early, your face is swollen as a modiste’s pincushion, and now even the newspaper offends.”

“Lord Brightstone asked me to allow him to court me last night,” Hannah confessed glumly.

Her mother sat upright in her chair, her expression radiant. “Did he? But why are you…”

“He asked because Father told him to.” Hannah stared at her untouched eggs rather than look at Lord Westwich.

“Henry,” her mother said in a reprimanding tone. “What came over you, asking him to do such a thing?”

“I did nothing of the sort.” A crinkle indicated her father had set aside his newspaper.

“He said you informed him he was chasing off my suitors.” Hannah looked up at her father, not appreciating the full depth of his betrayal until that moment.

“Well, he isn’t wrong,” Lady Westwich countered. “Your father said Lord Brightstone’s interest in you was from a purely assistance-based need. If he is determined to wed another woman, you needn’t keep him around. However, if he means to court you…”

“Because he felt sorry for me.” Her voice broke.

“Come now, that isn’t true,” her father said gently but unconvincingly. Lord Westwich always was a horrible liar. “He genuinely likes you.”

Lord Brightstone did not harbor an actual affection toward her, and her father knew it as well as she did. She wished she could say the same, that she was as indifferent to the earl as he was to her. One look at the crumpled newspaper at her side, however, made her heart squeeze so viscerally that she knew the dreaded truth.

She cared immensely for Lord Brightstone. Not the fashionable gentleman in the fitted clothing with the cropped hairstyle all the dandies sported, but the shy earl with hair long past due for a trim who cradled a frightened cat against his chest.

Yes, she was smitten yet again despite her determination to remain otherwise. What was worse, she’d created an eligible bachelor whose exploits would occupy the attention of the ton for the entirety of the season. And she would be forced to sit back and watch his success.

That afternoon, she was notified of a visitor and found Jillian downstairs waiting for her in a lovely green day dress and silk shawl.

Hannah rushed to her friend. “Jillian, I’m so sorry for having missed so much of your ball.”

“I wish I could have missed it.” Jillian rolled her eyes.

“Was the duke so terrible?” Hannah poured tea carefully into both their cups and handed one to her friend, who accepted it with thanks.

Jillian stared into her teacup. “Do you ever wonder if it’s possible for someone to blot out another’s existence entirely?”

“Is it truly that bad?” Hannah idly stirred her tea. “Did you agree to marry him?”