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Houghtenwick Hall – Grosvenor Square

London, England

Home of the Duke and Duchess of San Sebastian

Four in the Afternoon

Tobias flipped open the timepiece he’d inherited from his grandfather. Four minutes to four. Perfect. By the time the coach stopped, and he and Avery disembarked and entered the mansion, it should be four of the clock.

Punctuality said much about a person’s character and their consideration for others.

Snapping the gold watch closed and returning it to his pocket, he gave Avery a reassuring smile.

This morning when she’d giggled at his teasing Mrs. Grenville, he’d caught a glimpse of the cheerful, carefree lass she’d been until her parents died.

The trouble was, Tobias had no idea what to do to make Avery happy. In point of fact, he had no idea what to do with a petulant, defiant eighteen-year-old, much less how to transform her into a debutante.

“Chin up, lass. It’s not as if you’re entering the dragon’s lair.”

He gave her another smile meant to reassure her.

Avery didn’t return the gesture but instead, presented her profile. Her sullenness had returned almost the instant she’d stopped laughing after Mrs. Grenville’s departure this morning.

In truth, Mrs. Grenville had been referred to as a dragon more than once for her diligence in chaperoning her niece, now the Duchess of San Sebastian. She was precisely the sort of woman Tobias could entrust Avery to.

An intelligent, decorous, talented on the pianoforte, but also a kind woman of indisputable character.

Mrs. Grenville’s golden curls, big dark jade-green eyes, rosebud mouth, and delicate features weren’t exactly off-putting either. He thought she might be in her late twenties or early thirties.

Far too young to spend her life on the shelf and in the shadow of her niece.

But how to ensure the attractive widow followed through on her offer to prepare Avery for a Season when she held Tobias in such contempt? Simply because he’d dared show that he admired her and would’ve explored his blooming attraction had she not rebuffed him at every turn.

Mrs. Grenville must’ve loved her late husband very much indeed.

Something that might’ve been envy stabbed Tobias sharply behind his ribs.

For the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to be adored like that. To have someone love him so much, they were bereft without him.

Until now, he’d not seriously considered matrimony. Six and thirty wasn’t so very ancient that he need repine about entering the parson’s mousetrap just yet. He’d put off his ducal duty of marrying and securing the dukedom’s future this long.

What could it hurt to delay a jot longer?

But Mrs. Grenville had him thinking on marriage more of late. To be more precise, nuptials with her.

Certainly not a union with any of the insipid doe-eyed debutantes half his age. As fate—or providence or whatever force had brought the captivating widow into his path—would have it, no woman interested him but the single woman not interested in him.

Was that love?

Complex and perplexing?

Was he in love with Mrs. Grenville?

How did one know?

Avery gave a disgruntled sigh and pinched her mouth tighter.

Now wasn’t the time to explore the intricacies of infatuation.