Page 22
“You didn’t wish to dance with Mr. Selwyn?” Letitia asked.
“Let’s just say he’s not the most pleasant man I’ve ever met,” Seraphina said quietly.
Trevor sat straight-backed, apparently uncertain which one of them he should be looking at. After a moment, he turned toward Seraphina. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies for the way your recent engagement ended.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Letitia wince, but she didn’t mind the directness of the comment.
“It was no great loss,” she admitted.
Letitia cleared her throat. “Trevor, I’m parched. Could you get us both drinks, please?”
Trevor bolted upright. “Of course. I’ll be back soon.”
When he was out of earshot, Letitia raised an eyebrow. “You seem pleased to see him.”
“He’s a relief.” Seraphina wasn’t afraid to say as much. “I’m tired of all the charming dissemblance. Trevor is always himself. It’s refreshing. But I suppose I’ll have to tolerate the pretense at least long enough to choose a husband.”
“Remind me again how long you have?”
“Until the 28th of the month. At that point, if I haven’t found someone for myself, who Father approves of, I’ll be betrothed to Mr. Emerson.”
And honestly, she couldn’t think of a worse fate.
CHAPTER 8
He was a bumbling fool. How on earth did he think he was going to persuade Seraphina to marry him when he’d droned on about waterlilies, admitted he couldn’t dance well, and damn near spilled a drink on her because he was so bad at navigating crowded ballrooms?
The mingled scents of so many people in close quarters had been forcing him to breathe through his mouth for the entire evening, the warm air had made perspiration trickle down the small of his back, and the noise… Good gracious, the noise had made his head throb so badly, he could barely pay attention to the conversation.
She must think him a dreadful bore.
“Stop mentally castigating yourself,” Letitia said from the other side of the carriage.
They were seated in the dark, the only noise before she had spoken the rumbling of the carriage wheels over cobblestones. Usually, he was relieved to escape situations that agitated his oversensitivities, but in this case, having enough quiet to think hadn’t brought him peace.
“That did not go well,” he said.
“In my opinion, you’re wrong.”
He stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
She leaned forward so that he could see her expression better in the dim light. “You’re always too critical of yourself. Seraphina was pleased to see you. She enjoyed your company. She even feigned an injury to avoid dancing with someone else so that she could prolong her time with you.”
“No, she just didn’t like Mr. Selwyn. He insulted her intelligence.”
She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “That may be true, but it isn’t the whole story.”
“I think you’re reading too much into the situation.” He was quite sure he’d bollocksed up.
“Men.” She huffed. “So frustrating. Let me provide you with some context. Mr. Dalton has given Seraphina until the 28th of this month to find a replacement groom. If she doesn’t, he will betroth her to Mr. Emerson.”
Trevor’s heart stuttered. “She’s already promised to someone?”
How had that happened so quickly? He’d expected to have more time.
Letitia waffled her hand back and forth. “Mr. Dalton hasn’t accepted or rejected the offer, but rather delayed it. Seraphina doesn’t want to marry Mr. Emerson, so he’s given her a brief window of time to find a suitable alternative. Mr. Emerson will call upon him again at the end of the thirty-day delay—I’m uncertain whether he’s aware she’s seeking alternative potential husbands, although he’s clever enough that he must know something is going on.”
He frowned. Mr. Emerson was the man that Sylvestor had said gentlemen were betting against marrying Seraphina. Between that and this thirty-day delay, any man of sense would see the obvious. “If she doesn’t, would her father actually make her marry someone she dislikes?”
