“I am not jesting, Julia. I have never asked for permission to court a lady before.” She lifted her head. “Please allow me the honor of courting you properly.”
Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, and when they reopened, moisture filled them. The sight of her unshed tears tore at his gut, and before the words even fell from her lips, he knew what the answer would be.
“I’m afraid the answer is no. It would be impossible.” Her voice cracked.
It still crushed him, despite his preparation.
“Why?” he asked, his voice a raw whisper.
“I am old, older than you by five years.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I am a widow with no family besides my distant in-laws, and they don’t care about me. I have no dowry, and I most likely cannot offer you an heir, since I never had a child with my husband, though we tried.”
He flinched at her words. He hated to hear talk of her dead husband. Hated even more to hear of their struggles to conceive. He didn’t like to think of her with any man but himself.
Julia belonged to him and no other.
“I don’t care about any of that,” he said vehemently, and she shook her head, her expression so sad it stopped his heart.
“You should. You are an earl, Garrett, and I am not worthy of being your countess. No matter how much you think you want me and care for me, this can go no further.” She smiled tremulously, and a single tear slid down her cheek. “Don’t ruin our last night together by declaring your intentions. It’s unnecessary. I am a grown woman. I knew what I was getting into when I started this affair.”
The problem was he’d thought he knew what he was getting involved with when they started this affair as well.
He’d been dead wrong.
Julia had saved her new gown for this night, her last with Garrett. The ball held at the Duke of Stratford’s grand mansion was the last glittering affair before everyone departed the city. It was warm within the giant ballroom, the crush of people, the scent of cloying perfume and sweat filled the air, and she wished she were somewhere else. Somewhere private where she could be alone with Garrett.
But she needed to stay put, for he would arrive soon. They could dance together once. Perhaps sneak away to a private room for a quick indulgence before returning separately to her home, where they would make love long into the night. He would slip out in the early-morning hours, and she would never see him again.
Turning down his suit earlier had been so hard, but she’d made the right choice. He needed a wife who would provide him with a child, heirs. A wife who was socially graceful and beautiful and perfect, who would be the ideal countess he could be proud of.
She knew without a doubt she wasn’t that woman, despite his efforts to convince her otherwise. At the age of thirty-one she was too old, used goods, a widow, and the reminder hurt. Oh, she could find an older gentleman. Perhaps a widowed man who needed a wife to take care of his household and even take over the rearing of his children. Certainly she didn’t deserve a man as young and virile as her Garrett.
If Garrett was smart, he would be indulging in the debutantes. Conversing with the ones he fancied the most, learning more about them, seeing if they were compatible. Not that it really mattered. He had plenty to choose from in finding a wife.
The thought hurt so much she feared she’d double over from the pain.
Sir Reginald passed by, smiling pleasantly as he stopped short and bowed before her. “Lady Renwick, you are a vision.”
“Why, thank you.” She returned his bow with a curtsy and laughed when he snatched up her gloved hand and kissed
her knuckles. Her gown was of deep crimson, a shockingly bold color, but she’d wanted to draw Garrett’s attention one last time. Her hair was swept high, with a red velvet ribbon running throughout, and elbow-length black silk gloves completed her ensemble.
She knew she had garnered Sir Reginald’s approval, for his pale blue gaze roved over her with undisguised interest.
He was rather charming. Decently handsome, though not blatantly gorgeous like Garrett. If she hadn’t fallen into this affair with Garrett in the first place, she would’ve been interested in Sir Reginald. Would’ve encouraged him and prayed for his continued pursuit. He was supposedly a confirmed bachelor, but he looked at her as if he would consider changing his status. But could she allow him to pursue her and actually want him to do so? Or would she always be reminded of Garrett and his passionate lovemaking, his dizzying kisses and dazzling smiles?
She frowned as Sir Reginald dropped her hand. Drat. Was she forever changed because of the Earl of Bedingfield?
Yes.
“Dance with me later?” Sir Reginald asked, his lips curled into a small smile.
She bowed her head. “Of course.”
He walked away and was swallowed into the crowd, and she glanced around, searching for a familiar face. But there were none, and she felt so alone. This was her first season among society after her husband’s death. Had it been a mistake to make her reappearance? Should she have stayed home and been content with what she had?