His father was going to be so pleased that Tobias would marry the daughter of a duke. He, of course, knew of Tobias’s intent and wholeheartedly endorsed his choice.
“Deane!” a young buck called from just off the path where he stood with three other gentlemen.
Lifting his hand, Tobias waved. “Afternoon!”
Another of the gentlemen stepped to the edge of the path. “Too slow, then, or did she refuse you?”
A terrible chill raced through Tobias. He veered toward them, his pace slowing as his legs suddenly felt as though they were made of wood. “I beg your pardon?”
The last man who’d spoken, an old friend from school named Edwin Cleveland, moved away from the path, and the group widened to include Tobias.
“Lady Priscilla,” Cleveland said. “Thought for sure you were going to bag her, but Bentley is the winner, it seems.”
Bentley? Tobias felt as if he couldn’t move or think. He knew Bentley was one of many who’d courted Lady Priscilla, but she’d been clear that her preference was for Tobias. Hadn’t she? Doubt stole over him, and he didn’t like the sensation one bit.
“You make it sound like a contest,” Tobias said through an ever-deepening disappointment. Except that word didn’t begin to describe what he felt. He’d loved her. He’d expected to marry her in a month’s time. A year from now, they likely would have been parents. He couldn’t breathe.
Another of the gentleman snorted. “It is a contest. One winner, many losers. You’re a loser this time, Deane.”
Cleveland sniffed. “At least he outranks you. Would have been deuced awful to lose to someone lesser.”
In Tobias’s mind, Bentley was someone lesser. The man was a cheat at cards and took every opportunity to inflate his own importance. That Lady Priscilla would choose him over Tobias… It was unconscionable.
He wanted to know why. Was it really because of rank? Bentley barely outranked him. Furthermore, Tobias’s father’s earldom was older, and, as far as Tobias knew, their estate was larger.
Hell, none of that should matter. It was only important that they suit, and Tobias believed that he and Lady Priscilla were perfectly suited.
“You didn’t know,” the first gentleman who’d called out to Tobias said in wonder, his dark gaze fixed on Tobias. “You didn’t know she’d chosen Bentley.”
Tobias clenched his jaw and said nothing.
Cleveland winced, then laughed. “Oh, bad luck that.”
“At least you heard it from us,” the fourth man said with a chuckle. “Imagine if you’d proposed and she had to refuse you.”
“Yes, imagine,” another of them said—Tobias stopped paying attention to who. He could only see red. He was angry, humiliated, hurt…
“Excuse me,” he murmured before taking himself off, turning back the way he’d come.
He walked twice as fast as when he’d been eager to find the woman he’d expected would be his wife. When he turned toward the Grosvenor Gate, he was painfully aware of the sudden attention directed at him, and the talk that was just loud enough so that he could hear his name and that of Lady Priscilla. News of her engagement was spreading like a plague.
No one turned their back on him, for this wasn’t the cut direct such as he’d witnessed earlier. It was, however, another cruelty Society inflicted as it took one person’s heartache or scandal and devoured it like a cheesecake.
He left the park as quickly as possible and immediately caught a hack to St. James Street, specifically Brooks’s Club, where he could drown himself in a large glass of brandy. As he entered the subscription room, he wondered if any of the gentlemen there had already heard the news. Not that it mattered. In this gentlemen’s haven, no one would trouble him about losing out to Bentley.
Oh hell, now he was thinking of it like a contest.
Wasn’t it, though? Bentley had won, and Tobias had definitively lost. Lady Priscilla would not be his wife. He couldn’t even fight for her, not without causing a scandal.
But what if Lady Priscilla really did prefer him? What if she wanted him to rescue her from a marriage she didn’t desire? He could whisk her away to Gretna Green…
He walked past the tables where men were playing cards and went into a smaller antechamber where his favorite table was located. He nearly choked when he saw his father seated there.
The earl met Tobias’s gaze. His expression reflected nothing but the placid indifference he typically wore.
Tobias wasn’t sure what to expect. On one hand, he hoped his father already knew about Lady Priscilla, for then Tobias wouldn’t have to tell him. On the other, he didn’t want his father to know he’d lost. He would know, however. There would be no hiding it from him.
“Sit,” the earl said.
Taking the chair to his father’s left, Tobias lowered himself between the dark wood arms. He did not relax. “I’m surprised to see you here at this time of day.”
“As you should be. I don’t dawdle about when there is important work to be done.” The earl referred to his position in the House of Lords where he chaired a few important committees. “Hadleigh informed me his daughter is to marry Bentley. Imagine my surprise at hearing that news.”
Tobias gritted his teeth and clutched the arms of the chair. “I only just heard it myself. At the park.”
The earl’s smoke-colored eyes, nearly the same hue as his mostly gray hair, narrowed. “I suppose you must move on to the next chit on your list.”
Forcing his hands to relax, Tobias flexed his fingers. “I don’t have a list.”
“How disappointing. Fortunately, I do.” He withdrew a small piece of paper from his coat and slid it along the tablecloth toward Tobias. “They are in order of my preference. I have already spoken to Lord Billingsworth, and he is amenable to your suit. Lady Agnes is not the daughter of a duke, but she is at least the daughter of an earl.”
She was also simpering and couldn’t be bothered to speak of anything
