She hadn’t set out to fall in love with him—or any man.Not that she was in love with him, she told herself firmly. Especially when he seemed so changeable. She knew her situation. All she had going for her was her face. To many men, Izzy’s birth and background, and her lack of fortune, would outweigh everything.
Her time in society would be limited, and she needed to make the most of it and get herself settled before the axe fell.
It was different for Clarissa. With her inheritance, she had all the time in the world to fall in love. Izzy didn’t. She’d resolved from the start to make a good, solid, practical marriage, and she’d let herself forget that.
She hadn’t wanted to fall for Lord Salcott—in fact she’d actively disliked him at the start. But then... Oh, why had she kissed him in the summerhouse that night? That magical, beautiful night...
How many times had she told herself that it was just a kiss? It meant nothing—to him at least. Earls didn’t court bastards, she knew that.Knewit.
But despite all her determination to be practical, to stop dreaming foolish, impossible dreams, all it took was a look, a touch—a kiss—and her common sense scattered to the four winds.
She stared at the pages of her book, trying to force herself to think of something else.
A squeaking gate behind her distracted her. Footsteps approached. “You’ve been seeing rather a lot of Lord Salcott, haven’t you?” a waspish feminine voice accused.
“Have I?” Izzy didn’t even bother to look around.
“Mama and I saw the way you were dancing with him last night. Mama said it was disgracefully unladylike. As for the way you were looking at him...” Milly Harrington plonked herself down on the seat opposite Izzy. “It won’t do you any good, you know.”
“Won’t it?” Izzy raised her glance from the book she hadn’t been reading and eyed her narrowly. “Have you beengossiping about me, Milly? Because you know what I told you...”
The girl flushed and tossed her head. “I don’t gossip.”
Izzy didn’t bother pointing out the obvious.
“I learned something about Lord Salcott last night,” Milly went on. She glanced around the garden with ostentatious caution.
Izzy sighed. What did the tedious creature want now? There was nobody around. A gardener was working on the other side of the gardens, and in the distance, Izzy could hear the sound of Lady Tarrant’s little girls playing.
Milly leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “Mama explained to me about Lord Salcott and what he would require in a bride.”
“Did she indeed?” Izzy said in a bored voice. “And has she explained it to Lord Salcott?”
Milly frowned. “No,” she said, puzzled. “Only to me.”
“Good, then keep it to yourself.” Izzy returned to her book.
Milly sat there staring at her. “Don’t you want to know?”
“No. It’s none of my business.”
“It is if you have hopes.”
Izzy arched a sardonic eyebrow. “Hopes?”
“Of Lord Salcott.”
“I have no hopes—whatever you mean by that—of Lord Salcott, or any other man,” Izzy said firmly. And it was true. Last night had established that.
The girl stared at her a minute. “I don’t believe you. Mama and I saw the way you were with him at Lady Clendon’s. Mama said your behavior was quite ill-bred. And she doesn’t even know about the other night when you let him kiss you in the summerhouse.”
Izzy put down her book. “I thought I made it clear that was none of your business, Milly.”
The girl pouted. “Well, you obviously do have hopes,but I’m here to tell you that there’s no point. He has very particular requirements in a wife.”
“Good for him.” Izzy picked up her book.
“It’s because of his mother.”
