“Do you not know me at all? When have I ever gone into London for a ball?” Eammon said with a laugh.
“You ought to go. Lady Charity will be there, as will Lord Markham. You might see their debut as a couple if you attend.”
“And why, pray, would I be interested in that?” Eammon asked as he rose.
“It might be the society wedding of the year, and you are one of the few who know that they might be there together for the very first time as a pair. In fact, I would not be surprised if he doesn’t propose right there. You know what a coxcomb he is.”
“I think not. I am going into London this night, but I am visiting my mother, not to be a spectator to some horrid display. But I do thank you for your information, you always know everything that is going on. I would have suspect you of being an author forThe Agenewspaper.”
Thomas let out a laugh. “Now that would be a scandal. Duke’s son revealed as secret scandal sheet writer.”
The two laughed as they walked to the door, but when Thomas was gone, Eammon could not help but think back once more to the very last time he’d seen Lord Pembroke—and the strange promise he’d elicited from Eammon. A promise he had made—but with no intention of keeping it.
Now, he realized, he might have to reconsider his choice.
CHAPTER2
Charity
Charity’s heart pounded, and her head spun like it hadn’t since the time her sister Eleanor had hit her full force with a pillow during a pillow fight a few months back. Now, as then, she felt off-balance and grabbed onto the back of the chair to steady herself.He just said…He just…He….
He proposed. I cannot believe my misfortune. Do they never end?
“Lady Charity?” Gabriel Marting, the Viscount Markham, said, his voice cutting through her fog like a foghorn in dense mist.
She blinked and looked up, catching sight of herself in her reflection in the darkened window. She looked ill, unsteady.
“Yes, My Lord,” she said, aware that she sounded far from composed.
“Did you hear me?”
Oh, she had heard. She had heard far more than she wanted to. In fact, she wished she could say that she hadn’t heard anything at all and that she was unwell and had to lie down immediately to escape this unfortunate situation. But she could not for she was not alone with him. Of course not. That would not have been proper. She glanced at her mother, who sat by the fire, her hands folded in her lap, shoulders drawn back as she observed the scene.
“Well, Charity, what do you say?” her mother prompted.
Charity wet her dry lips. What could she say?
She had despised him for as long as she had known him, and now he was asking her to marry him. What was he thinking?
Markham was dreadful; he chased every skirt in London, he gambled, and he did not take his responsibilities in the House of Lords seriously at all. Not that her own father had either, but still. Harold Pembroke, the Viscount Pembroke had been an upstanding man. He’d loved his family. Markham—he was a different sort of man altogether. Her father had known this too, which was why he’d always made sure to intercede whenever Markham called on them during his visits north.
“I cannot,” she said. Her mother looked up, her lips parting as a small gasp escaped them.
The young man drew back his shoulders, his square face set, jaw clenched. If she didn’t know his personality already, she might have found him rather attractive. His deep black hair and striking blue eyes formed a beautiful combination. Some might even find the deep dimple in his chin charming. She might have been one of those someones if she had not known the sort of man he was.
“Lady Charity,” he said, “I understand that you have been under a lot of strain. These last few months have not been easy.”
“Indeed they have not, Lord Markham,” Charity replied. “I do not think that I can quite comprehend why it is that you have come here, this morning. We just entered half-mourning for my father, to entertain marriage now is not proper.”
“I assure you, it is very proper.” Her mother had gotten up and closed the distance between herself, her daughter, and her would-be suitor. “We must think of our future. We have lost Pembroke, our home for the entirety of your life. A majority of your father’s lands are gone to your cousin thanks to the entailment…” She looked down and shook her head. “We should not speak of this.”
Charity felt relieved; she hadn’t wanted to debate the sordid details of her father’s will in front of this man, though he likely already knew. In fact, she was almost sure he knew. After all, why would he have thought it was a good idea to come here and propose?
“My Lord, my daughter has been very tired,” her mother insisted. “She has not slept well, and she is not thinking rationally. If you could forgive us and allow her some time to come to terms with her position and the meaning of your proposal…”
“Of course, My Lady,” Markham said, bowing first to her mother and then to Charity. “I hope when I see you tonight, you will have had time to reconsider.”
As soon as Lord Markham left, her mother turned to her. “What are you doing, Charity?”
