To Catch A Suitor (Dalton Family 2)

Rose smiled and, with a curtsy, hurried over to Carver. They were wonderful together. Elizabeth wanted to be wonderful with someone. She looked back to Lord Hastings. Now was her chance to win him over. She took the last gulp of her friendly drink and noticed he was watching her with the hint of a smile. He extended his hand toward her now empty glass. “Allow me.” He retrieved it from her and handed it off to a servant.

Handsome and chivalrous!

But then when he chuckled and thanked her, Elizabeth realized she had said that thought out loud. Why was she always doing that? Her cheeks filled with heat—or rather, continued to heat, because she felt as if her face had been on fire ever since she had finished her first glass of champagne. She placed her gloved hands on her cheeks to try to cool them, but there was nothing for it. Still hot.

Lord Hastings cleared his throat. “As I was saying, this is your first Season, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“And…are you enjoying it?”

“Quite.” She wanted to say more, but suddenly the room was starting to feel a little wobbly and she was having to use a great deal of energy to remain upright. And her tongue…so heavy. This wasn’t normal, was it?

She noted Lord Hastings pressing his lips together as if to keep from smiling at something again. But she had no idea what it could be since neither of them had said anything funny. Lord Hastings was nice but not at all as funny as Oliver. “And…may I ask what aspects of London you are most excited about experiencing?”

“None of it.” Oh, blast! She shouldn’t have said that. “I mean, all of it.”

He gave a half-smile. “No, I don’t think you meant that.”

“No,” she sighed. “I didn’t.” She wished the bloody floor would stop shifting.

“You are a daughter of the Duke of Dalton, are you not?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, focusing on Lord Hastings's dark green ones and trying to block out the way the room was starting to turn on its end. “Yes, one of three. My younger sister is Lady Kate, and my eldest sister is Lady Elizabeth.” She paused. “Wait, no. That’s not right. Lady Hatley is my eldest sister! That’s it.”

Again, he pressed his lips together, as if holding back a fierce laugh. “I am well acquainted with Lady Hatley. I believe my eldest brother vied for her hand during one of her seasons.”

Elizabeth gave a short snort. “He and every other man in Society. They all wanted her dowry.” Again, the words flowed freely from her mouth, completely unbidden. And why had Miss Loxley made her rooms so wobbly? Horribly rude.

“I don’t believe my brother was after her dowry, if that helps remove his name from your black books,” said Lord Hastings.

Elizabeth waved him off. “Doesn’t matter a drop to me. Mary will be the first to tell you she can take care of herself. Trust me. She doesn’t need my help in the least. And you can tell your brother she settled for nothing but a love match, so there’s no need for him to feel slighted by her.”

Lord Hastings’s brow pulled down. “My…brother is no longer with us. He died two years ago, I’m afraid.”

A large puff of air released from Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Well, then it’s rather a good thing Mary didn’t choose him, isn’t it?” Wait a moment. Was that a rude comment? Yes. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she realized her words had once again exited instead of staying in her head where they belonged. And why was she talking so loudly? How did one lower one's voice? Just another thing she failed at. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said, trying to lower her voice unsuccessfully and deciding to convey her apology by grabbing his arm instead. But it felt wrong—so she placed her other hand on his other arm to balance out the gesture. There. Steady as she goes.

What was that snooty matron scowling at? Elizabeth nearly told the woman to pull the tack out of her slipper before she was distracted by Lord Hastings. He must have heard something funny again from someone else, because Elizabeth could see him chuckling behind his closed lips, shoulders slightly shaking. She wished he would share the joke with her. She loved to laugh!

“Lady Elizabeth,” he said, barely hiding his amusement, “are you feeling quite well?”

She pulled away with wide eyes and placed her hand on her chest. “Moi? Oh, I’m feeling phemmminonial.” She frowned at her words. “Phem-en-om-in-al. Oh, you know what I mean!” She leaned in to whisper to him. “But I do wish Vienna had not made these rooms so wobbly. They are quite frustrating.”

Chapter Twelve

Was Elizabeth swaying? Yes. She definitely was. Something was off. Oliver had tried to keep his distance that evening—distance for himself, and distance for Elizabeth. Flirting with Miss Barley seemed like the most natural way to remind himself that his destiny had already been carved out before him as Charming, not as Elizabeth’s husband. In fact, she had expressed interest in Lord Hastings, and as much as the idea hurt, Oliver knew it was for the best. If Lord Hastings began courting Elizabeth, and then married her, Oliver would never have to acknowledge his feelings for her.

Of course, he would then have to spend the rest of his life looking on as Elizabeth shared her life with another man, which did not sound too appealing either. What choice did he have? He wasn’t willing to tell Elizabeth of his own feelings. She deserved nothing but the best, and the truth was, Lord Hastings fit the criteria much better than he did.

But then why was his heart protesting so much at the thought of Elizabeth in the arms of another man?

Oliver re-entered the drawing room and pushed through the crowd. A buzz of excited energy filled the space, in anticipation of the moment when the doors to the theater room would open to reveal whatever eccentric entertainment Miss Loxley had planned for the evening.

As he drew closer to where Elizabeth stood in the corner of the room, he could verify that she was indeed swaying like a tree in the wind. And also that Lord Hastings was

still with her. The man had claimed her attention ever since Oliver had introduced them after dinner. His teeth clenched together even though he knew he was being ridiculous. Good for Elizabeth, catching the eye of the Unobtainable. If anyone could, he knew it would be her. Which is why he had wanted to shake the annoying Miss Barley for even suggesting it. He felt like an invalid, faced with a horrible yet necessary remedy. Elizabeth being taken off the market was the cure, but he just couldn’t bring himself to swallow the medicine. It tasted too much like poison.

Oliver had almost made it to Elizabeth’s side when he heard her laugh such a boisterous, shrill laugh that it caused him to cringe. This was not at all like her. Something was definitely amiss.