Chapter 1
One week later:
Lady Tabitha sat perched on the end of her chair in her father’s study and attempted to keep her mouth from hanging open. She was fairly certain her father had just told her that marriage contracts were being drawn up with the Earl of Sussex.
“You can’t be serious?” she mumbled before she could stop herself.
“I can assure you, I am as serious as the plague, young lady,” her father, The Duke of Waverly replied.
Barreling headlong into disaster, she let the words tumble from her lips. “But Papa, he is a known rake and debaucher, drinking and gambling and…”
“Stop, darling. A lady does not say such things.” Her mother lifted a kerchief to her mouth.
“Of course, Mother. I apologize.” She took a breath. “I have no illusions of a love match, but I thought perchance, I might at least share some common interests with my future bridegroom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you have common interests. You’re both members of the peerage, from excellent families, with a common goal to populate the next generation of—” Her mother was now waving the kerchief, apparently populating the next generation had her more excited than Tabbie had seen her in quite some time.
“Yes, dear. Thank you. We need not discuss that part yet.” Her father turned back to her. “I hear he is quite handsome. You should meet him before you dismiss him.”
“We’ve already met.” Her lips thinned into a straight line. That was to say, she had been introduced to him on two separate occasions but always his eyes had barely grazed her before they were following some other woman about the room. No man had ever made her feel so invisible and she was a wallflower, or she would be if she weren’t the daughter of a duke.
“Excellent. They are arriving today for a visit. I expect you to have your afternoon tea together.”
“I beg your pardon?” She stood, forgetting her manners completely. “Today?”
“Sit down.” Her father’s stern voice reverberated through the room.
She had no choice but to do as she was told. But her eyes narrowed. Her father must have known they were coming for some time. He’d intentionally kept this information from her. Most likely so that she didn’t have time to scheme her way out of it.
“You’ll be on your best behavior. You’ll be polite and agreeable. You will keep quiet or, if you speak, you will keep your tongue sweet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her own anger was rising.
“Tabbie, darling, you have a tendency to make men feel lesser when you verbally…” Her mother paused but her father filled in.
“Assault them.” He gave a nod to emphasize his point.
“That is ridiculous. I don’t—”
“Oh darling, you’re one of the kindest people I know. But you do have a bit of a temper. And the words that you speak when in those fits…” Her mother covered her mouth with her hand.
“To smart for your own good,” her father mumbled.
“Find someone else.” Tabbie stood again.
“There’s no one else. Your decision to stay next to the wall for every soiree we attend has made it difficult to find a suitor.” Her father stood too. “Be polite.”
“Fine,” she murmured. Tabbie lifted her skirts and exited the office with as much dignity as she could muster. She still had several hours before they were to meet. Surely she could come up with a plan before then.
Three hours later, she sat in the parlor awaiting the Earl of Sussex. The blasted man was late. He was supposed to have arrived at half past two but it was now three and he was nowhere to be seen. In want of something to do, she picked up a book sitting artfully on the table. History of Ducal England graced the spine and she tried not to roll her eyes.
“Interesting reading,” a baritone voice rumbled from the door. It was melodious in a way that struck a chord deep within her. But she ignored the feeling, preferring to focus on the issue at hand.
Appeal was not something he lacked, unlike herself. The few balls they both attended, she couldn’t help but see him. Dark wavy hair, longer than fashionable, was swept back to show strong cheekbones and piercing green eyes. Broad shouldered, he stood a head taller than near every other man she’d met. But she couldn’t let good looks distract her now. “Do you like it, my lord? I thought some light reading might temper my boredom. So kind of you to keep me waiting.”
The distinct clink of her chaperone’s embroidery needles knocking together filled the room then stopped completely. Her father would hear of her comment, no doubt. A second later, the needles resumed their tempo of work and a small chuckle fell from the earl’s lips.
“A pleasure, I’m sure, my lady,” he murmured.