about, the latest gossip, the newest styles in bonnets, her next proposal? Or perhaps the widgeon wanted to tag along with him to mills or race meets, like Homer.
On the other hand, he had employees and dependents, but no real friends in England. His old school chums and boyhood acquaintances had turned their backs on him quickly enough when he was disgraced. The only one who did not, the friend who helped him start a new life in the new world, had since died a hero’s death in Spain. And despite himself, he did feel a tie to Lady Victoria. Having carried her to safety, he could not turn his back on the young woman now, especially when she might still be in danger. As a friend, he would be more able to keep an eye on her, to look out for her. Wynn felt a lot better at the thought—but it was impossible.
“I fear we will not have the opportunity to become more familiar,” he said with true regret. “I doubt we will be traveling in the same circles.”
“I never supposed you would attend Almack’s, if that is what you were worried about. I cannot even convince Papa to accompany me there. I think you will find most other doors soon open to you, however. Mine will always be.”
He bowed slightly, touched by her kindness and sincerity. “I thank you. And while I am about it, I must apologize for my churlish behavior. Instead of cutting up at you before, I should have said that I was deeply honored by your offer, and thanked you. That is the proper way to refuse a suitor, is it not? Never having received a proposal of marriage before, nor given one, I am not quite certain of the correct form.”
She smiled as he’d intended. “That’s precisely what they taught us at Lady Castangle’s Academy. And I must apologize also. I should never have made so precipitous an offer in the first place. You were right. It must have been the smoke clouding my judgment. I will forgive you if you will forgive me.”
“Done.”
“Friends?” She held out her hand.
This time he took it and shook it, as he would with a gentleman. “Friends.” Her smile was so enchanting, so genuinely pleased with their bargain that Wynn instantly forgot they were supposed to be comrades. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
* * * *
Lord Duchamp was disappointed, .but not surprised. He was waiting for Wynn in his library, a large room that yet seemed homey, with its worn leather chairs and smells of old books and pipe smoke. He was hoping for a formal petition for his daughter’s hand. What he got was a view of the viscount’s back heading down the hall toward the front door and freedom.
“I told Maggie that bird would not fly,” the earl muttered when he sent his butler after the man, to invite him in for a drink. “But she had to go and make a big to-do over a minor matter. That’s women for you.” He nodded a greeting when Wynn entered the library, then directed him to take a seat while he reached for a decanter of cognac. The dog found a comfortable spot on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
“I see you have not got that matter of a valet straightened out yet,” Lord Duchamp said while he poured, gesturing with his glass toward Wynn’s neckcloth. “I’ll have a word with the Day brothers at that employment agency of theirs. Have you looking fine as five pence in no time.”
Wynn sipped his wine and said thank you, trying not to rip off the offending article or plant the earl a facer. What else could he do but be polite, having just refused to become the man’s son-in-law?
The refusal was on Lord Duchamp’s mind, too, and he did not beat around the bush. “I don’t suppose if I double the dowry you’d change your mind?”
There was not enough blunt in the Bank of England to change Wynn’s mind. He did admire Lord Duchamp’s plain speaking as much as he admired the library’s floor-to-ceiling bookcases, though, and the wide windows letting in the day’s light. He could be content with a room such as
On the other hand, he had employees and dependents, but no real friends in England. His old school chums and boyhood acquaintances had turned their backs on him quickly enough when he was disgraced. The only one who did not, the friend who helped him start a new life in the new world, had since died a hero’s death in Spain. And despite himself, he did feel a tie to Lady Victoria. Having carried her to safety, he could not turn his back on the young woman now, especially when she might still be in danger. As a friend, he would be more able to keep an eye on her, to look out for her. Wynn felt a lot better at the thought—but it was impossible.
“I fear we will not have the opportunity to become more familiar,” he said with true regret. “I doubt we will be traveling in the same circles.”
“I never supposed you would attend Almack’s, if that is what you were worried about. I cannot even convince Papa to accompany me there. I think you will find most other doors soon open to you, however. Mine will always be.”
He bowed slightly, touched by her kindness and sincerity. “I thank you. And while I am about it, I must apologize for my churlish behavior. Instead of cutting up at you before, I should have said that I was deeply honored by your offer, and thanked you. That is the proper way to refuse a suitor, is it not? Never having received a proposal of marriage before, nor given one, I am not quite certain of the correct form.”
She smiled as he’d intended. “That’s precisely what they taught us at Lady Castangle’s Academy. And I must apologize also. I should never have made so precipitous an offer in the first place. You were right. It must have been the smoke clouding my judgment. I will forgive you if you will forgive me.”
“Done.”
“Friends?” She held out her hand.
This time he took it and shook it, as he would with a gentleman. “Friends.” Her smile was so enchanting, so genuinely pleased with their bargain that Wynn instantly forgot they were supposed to be comrades. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
* * * *
Lord Duchamp was disappointed, .but not surprised. He was waiting for Wynn in his library, a large room that yet seemed homey, with its worn leather chairs and smells of old books and pipe smoke. He was hoping for a formal petition for his daughter’s hand. What he got was a view of the viscount’s back heading down the hall toward the front door and freedom.
“I told Maggie that bird would not fly,” the earl muttered when he sent his butler after the man, to invite him in for a drink. “But she had to go and make a big to-do over a minor matter. That’s women for you.” He nodded a greeting when Wynn entered the library, then directed him to take a seat while he reached for a decanter of cognac. The dog found a comfortable spot on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
“I see you have not got that matter of a valet straightened out yet,” Lord Duchamp said while he poured, gesturing with his glass toward Wynn’s neckcloth. “I’ll have a word with the Day brothers at that employment agency of theirs. Have you looking fine as five pence in no time.”
Wynn sipped his wine and said thank you, trying not to rip off the offending article or plant the earl a facer. What else could he do but be polite, having just refused to become the man’s son-in-law?
The refusal was on Lord Duchamp’s mind, too, and he did not beat around the bush. “I don’t suppose if I double the dowry you’d change your mind?”
There was not enough blunt in the Bank of England to change Wynn’s mind. He did admire Lord Duchamp’s plain speaking as much as he admired the library’s floor-to-ceiling bookcases, though, and the wide windows letting in the day’s light. He could be content with a room such as
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