what your family is like.”
“My mother was Irish, and my father was a British gentleman with Scottish holdings.”
She frowned a little. That was fairly nondescript. “Do you have siblings?”
“None I care to claim.”
She thought at first that he might be jesting, but a quick search of his features showed no signs of humor.
“I have felt that way once or twice,” she admitted. There had been days when she wanted nothing more than to renounce Wolfgang.
“About your brother,” Connor guessed.
She nodded reluctantly. So much for the hope he’d not heard of Wolfgang’s failings. “We were very fond of each other as children.”
“But now . . .”
But now her brother sat in prison because of debts he’d accumulated through a combination of obstinacy and selfishness. And he would continue to sit there, unless she did something about it. Suddenly, the morning didn’t seem quite so charming. The changing light, the warm air, the whisper of the breeze through leaves, it all seemed rather sad.
“I wish . . .”
“What do you wish?”
She wished she had Isobel’s talent for capturing beauty. She might have stolen a moment or two that morning and kept it for herself.
It was an impossible dream, an unreasonable expectation.
“I wish to return to the house.” She rose and, before she could think better of it, asked, “Will you escort me?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? There’s nothing amiss with a lady and a gentleman taking a stroll from a garden in broad daylight.” Particularly when there were no other guests about to see and comment.
“Not generally, no.”
“I can’t imagine any circumstance that would . . .” The most horrifying thought occurred to her. “Dear heavens, you’re married.”
“No. I haven’t a wife, or a fiancée.”
She blew out a short breath of relief. Her sins were many. She had no desire to add adultery to the list. “Then why—?”
“Because I haven’t an invitation either.”
“To come in from the garden?” She gave a small, perplexed laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“To be in the garden,” he corrected.
The implications of that statement sank in slowly. “You jest.”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid not. The lady I wished to avoid last night was your hostess.”
“You . . . You’re an interloper ?” Oh, good Lord . No wonder he’d been hiding last night and missing that morning at breakfast. “Why would—?”
“To see you,” he replied easily.
“We just . . . You can’t . . . I have to go.” She spun around and headed for the house at a pace just shy of an outright trot.
“Adelaide, wait.” Connor caught up and fell into step beside her.
“You should have told me. You should have . . . Good Lord, you broke into the house.”
“The door was open,” he countered. “It was a ball. I’m not the first gentleman to invite himself to a ball. Happens all the time during the season. It’s an accepted practice.”
Having never participated in a London season, she had absolutely no idea if that was true.
“Accepted or not, it was wrong, and you ought to have told me—”
“I should have. Will you stop a moment so I can apologize properly?”
She shook her head. “Sir Robert will be looking for me.”
And if he was not, she would begin looking for him. It was well past time she remembered why she had come to Mrs. Cress’s house party.
“You can’t marry him,” Connor said gruffly.
“I haven’t a choice,” she admitted, hoping bluntness would put an end to the matter.
“You do. Marry me, instead.”
“What?” She threw him an incredulous glance and increased her pace. “No.”
“Why not?”
Why not? Was the man unhinged? “I’ve only just met you. We scarcely know each other.”
“I’m one-and-thirty. I have all my teeth. I’ve never before proposed to a lady. And I have more money than Sir Robert.”
“Those are not—”
“I’ve thought of nothing but you for months.”
She
“My mother was Irish, and my father was a British gentleman with Scottish holdings.”
She frowned a little. That was fairly nondescript. “Do you have siblings?”
“None I care to claim.”
She thought at first that he might be jesting, but a quick search of his features showed no signs of humor.
“I have felt that way once or twice,” she admitted. There had been days when she wanted nothing more than to renounce Wolfgang.
“About your brother,” Connor guessed.
She nodded reluctantly. So much for the hope he’d not heard of Wolfgang’s failings. “We were very fond of each other as children.”
“But now . . .”
But now her brother sat in prison because of debts he’d accumulated through a combination of obstinacy and selfishness. And he would continue to sit there, unless she did something about it. Suddenly, the morning didn’t seem quite so charming. The changing light, the warm air, the whisper of the breeze through leaves, it all seemed rather sad.
“I wish . . .”
“What do you wish?”
She wished she had Isobel’s talent for capturing beauty. She might have stolen a moment or two that morning and kept it for herself.
It was an impossible dream, an unreasonable expectation.
“I wish to return to the house.” She rose and, before she could think better of it, asked, “Will you escort me?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? There’s nothing amiss with a lady and a gentleman taking a stroll from a garden in broad daylight.” Particularly when there were no other guests about to see and comment.
“Not generally, no.”
“I can’t imagine any circumstance that would . . .” The most horrifying thought occurred to her. “Dear heavens, you’re married.”
“No. I haven’t a wife, or a fiancée.”
She blew out a short breath of relief. Her sins were many. She had no desire to add adultery to the list. “Then why—?”
“Because I haven’t an invitation either.”
“To come in from the garden?” She gave a small, perplexed laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“To be in the garden,” he corrected.
The implications of that statement sank in slowly. “You jest.”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid not. The lady I wished to avoid last night was your hostess.”
“You . . . You’re an interloper ?” Oh, good Lord . No wonder he’d been hiding last night and missing that morning at breakfast. “Why would—?”
“To see you,” he replied easily.
“We just . . . You can’t . . . I have to go.” She spun around and headed for the house at a pace just shy of an outright trot.
“Adelaide, wait.” Connor caught up and fell into step beside her.
“You should have told me. You should have . . . Good Lord, you broke into the house.”
“The door was open,” he countered. “It was a ball. I’m not the first gentleman to invite himself to a ball. Happens all the time during the season. It’s an accepted practice.”
Having never participated in a London season, she had absolutely no idea if that was true.
“Accepted or not, it was wrong, and you ought to have told me—”
“I should have. Will you stop a moment so I can apologize properly?”
She shook her head. “Sir Robert will be looking for me.”
And if he was not, she would begin looking for him. It was well past time she remembered why she had come to Mrs. Cress’s house party.
“You can’t marry him,” Connor said gruffly.
“I haven’t a choice,” she admitted, hoping bluntness would put an end to the matter.
“You do. Marry me, instead.”
“What?” She threw him an incredulous glance and increased her pace. “No.”
“Why not?”
Why not? Was the man unhinged? “I’ve only just met you. We scarcely know each other.”
“I’m one-and-thirty. I have all my teeth. I’ve never before proposed to a lady. And I have more money than Sir Robert.”
“Those are not—”
“I’ve thought of nothing but you for months.”
She
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