Of course, he mused, opening his eyes, Dinah had much too lovely a character to be wed to someone such as he. The last few years, he had been forced to accept his new role in life as the new Lord Whitehaven, whilst dealing with the sorrow that came with the loss of his father, and such a thing had been much more difficult than he had anticipated. On top of which, he had discovered he had a good deal more wealth than he had ever had to deal with before – and with that knowledge had come the eagerness to enjoy himself a little more. His mother and sisters knew nothing of his frequent trips to Bath whilst they had been in London seeking out husbands and the like, and he fully intended to keep such information to himself—for it was both his shame and his great pleasure at the same time. Gambling was one of his greatest passions, even though he frequently lost more than he ought, and yet he had managed to keep his obsession entirely to himself. Now, finally, he had come to London during the Season to both ensure that Dinah found a husband and so that he might find one of the many “gambling hells” that he knew were a good deal better than those in Bath.
He had teased Dinah that she would consider him even worse than before—now that she knew he gambled and the like. Most likely, she would not say anything to Lady Whitehaven for fear that she would upset her, which meant that his secret was quite safe. Besides which, trying to find his determination once again, he was the Marquess of Whitehaven, was he not? He could do as he pleased, no matter what his mother or his cousin thought of him!
“It should not matter what she thinks,” Grayson said aloud, moving forward so that he might begin to thread his way through the other guests. “It does not matter.” This was said so emphatically that one or two young ladies turned towards him, perhaps thinking that he was attempting to garner their attention, but Grayson merely smiled briefly and continued on his way. He knew what would happen. Their eyes would catch the way he limped, would drop to the floor at his feet and the usual shame and embarrassment would capture him. He did not want to be made a spectacle. Of course, he had never intended to dance with Dinah, for he never danced, given his limp, and even though he had put his name down on two spaces, he had known that she would either refuse him or be entirely absent when the music began. This ball no longer held any interest for him. He would find his mother and take his leave. He would do as he had intended and seek out a gambling house and enjoy himself in the only way he wished. Perhaps then, he might be able to remove all thought of Miss Dinah Shepherd from his mind.
* * *
“Another round?”
Grayson blinked wearily, looking up at his friend, Lord Darnley, and wondering just how late in the evening it was.
“How many rounds have we played?” he asked, seeing the other gentlemen at the table begin to count their winnings.
Lord Darnley shrugged. “A few,” he commented, picking up his brandy glass and throwing the rest back. “But I’m game if you are.”
Grayson looked down at the table, seeing the small pile of coins in front of him. He had not done well. At least he was not in debt, although his winnings were very poor compared to others.
“Faro, was it?” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead and trying to remember what game they were playing. “Or was it Loo?”
“Faro,” Lord Darnley replied with a chuckle, as one or two gentlemen got up from their chairs, with one staggering away. “Although Loo might make an excellent change?”
Those gentlemen who remained seated muttered their approval, and Grayson found himself nodding, although everything in him told him that he ought to be doing precisely the opposite. It was good that he had not lost a good deal of money, but he was not at all satisfied with his winnings thus far. He wanted more. He wanted to be the victor, leaving the gambling hell with a bounce in his step and a sense of pride puffing out his chest.
And then, for some inexplicable reason, his mind returned to Dinah.
“What say we all get another drink?” Lord Darnley suggested, pushing himself up carefully and reaching for his brandy glass. “I’ll have one of the lads here to shuffle the cards in preparation. What say you, gentlemen?”
This was agreed to at once and Grayson found himself ordering a large whisky, half praying that this would be all he would need to get Dinah from his mind once and for all.
Leaning heavily on his chair, his leg a little painful as he waited for his whisky to be brought, Grayson lowered his head and let out a long, loud groan. His mind just would not let her go. No matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to fill his thoughts with something other than her, she remained steadfastly within. He did not want to think of her, did not want to be remembering her with every moment that passed, but yet she was there, haunting him. For years, he had battled the strange, incomprehensible feelings that lingered on in his heart, hating how they grew instead of fading. He had battled them continually, thinking he could beat his own heart into submission, but his determination had quite failed him. Trying to push her away, trying to make her think the worse of him in an attempt to break his own feelings apart was not working either. He was entirely at a loss.
Even now, he realized, running one hand through his thick, brown hair, he could remember how she had appeared when she had first set foot in the manor
house. He had called her a bird, for she had held a sparrow-like appearance that had been borne from grief, pain, and weakness. At the time, he had not meant to offend her nor had he meant to discourage her or make her feel unwelcome, but his words had left his mouth before he had been able to prevent them. She was not a bird now. Instead, she was a graceful swan, dazzling and elegant in its quiet beauty. How much did she hide underneath her quietness and her piety? Was there still the pain over the loss of her parents? Was there still a sense of being displaced, of having no home of her own? Shame filled him as he recalled how he had not often made her feel welcome. In a strange way, his growing desire for her company had made him all the more cruel and unwelcoming towards her.
“You look quite broken.”
With an effort, Grayson lifted his head and waited for a moment or two until his world stopped spinning.
“Something wrong?” Lord Darnley asked, a broad smile plastered on his face whilst his eyes danced with mirth. “Or is it just that you now regret suggesting Loo and realize you should have gone home with the money you have already made?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Grayson said, as firmly as he could. “I am just weary.” He shrugged. “I only returned to London this very day, you know.”
“I am well aware of that,” Lord Darnley replied with a broad smile. “And you came straight away to find me and bring me to this gaming hell, knowing full well that neither of us ought to be gambling.” He arched one thick eyebrow but laughed resoundingly. “You especially ought not to be doing so, given that you still have creditors waiting for you in Bath.”
Grayson shuddered violently, having put all thoughts of such gentlemen out of his mind. The last time he had been in Bath – which had been during the London Season last year – he had done very badly indeed and owed a good deal of money. He had not paid it as yet, for the money had been required for Dinah’s gowns and the like, for the estate and for various other things that were essential to someone such as he. Besides which, he half hoped that those he owed money to would have forgotten by now. There had been no letters to his estate, no demands that he paid what he owed, and no visits from those who were out of pocket. Therefore, there was every chance, as far as he hoped, that there would be no one searching for him.
“Perhaps that is why you came to London instead of returning to Bath?” his friend asked, elbowing him uncomfortably in the ribs. “You fear to go back there, in case you and your debts are discovered!”
“I am not afraid,” Grayson replied stoutly, accepting the glass of whisky from one of the bar hands. “It is only that I need to find a husband for this dratted cousin of mine. Then, mayhap, I shall finally have the manor house to myself, for Mama might very well chose to move into the dowager house, which is very grand indeed.” He shrugged, seeing how his friend grinned and finding it rather irritating. “I do not know what else I could say or do to convince her otherwise. Therefore, Dinah must have a decent husband.”
Lord Darnley looked interested for a moment, tipping his head and looking back at Grayson thoughtfully. “You know that I—”
“No.” Grayson held up one hand immediately, stemming Lord Darnley’s words. “No, indeed not. I am well aware that you are, at present, without a wife, but you are not the sort of gentleman that she requires.”
“Oh?” Lord Darnley appeared a trifle insulted, lifting one eyebrow and sniffing in a somewhat disdainful manner. “What can you mean, old boy? I would have thought that you would be open to throw her at anyone, given your apparent eagerness.”
Grayson shook his head, trying to think of an explanation that would satisfy Lord Darnley without upsetting him. “My mother would never agree,” he said, trying to appear as apologetic as possible. “She knows of your reputation, I fear.”