never be part of his family. And as for Miss Martin, well… “Time to go,” he said, getting to his feet. 10
Lady Balderston had invited Joseph to dinner, and it was quickly obvious to him that there were no other guests, that he and the Balderstons and their daughter were to dine en famille. And if that fact were not statement enough of his new status as Miss Hunt’s almost betrothed, then Lady Balderston’s words not long after they sat down were. “It was extremely obliging of Viscountess Ravensberg to invite Portia to Alvesley Park for the Redfields’ anniversary celebrations this summer,” she remarked as servants removed the soup plates from the table and brought on the next course. Ah. It was to be a preeminently family gathering for the fortieth wedding anniversary of the earl and countess. Miss Hunt was already family, then? “I had not yet informed Lord Attingsborough of the invitation, Mama,” she said. “But yes, it is true. Lady Sutton was obliging enough to invite me to call upon Lady Ravensberg with her this afternoon, and while we were there she informed her cousin that I had no plans for the summer other than to go home with Mama and Papa. And so Lady Ravensberg invited me to go to Alvesley. It was all very gratifying.” “Indeed so,” Joseph said, smiling at both ladies. “I will be going there too.” “But of course,” Miss Hunt said. “I am well aware that I would not have been invited otherwise. There would have been no point, would there?” And there was no point in delaying his marriage proposal any longer, Joseph thought. It was obviously merely a formality anyway. The Balderstons and Miss Hunt herself clearly thought so. So did his sister— who nevertheless ought not to have taken matters into her own hands this afternoon. It was just that he would have liked a little time for courtship. Balderston was already attacking his roast duck and giving it his full attention. Joseph glanced at him, but now was not the time for plain speaking. He would make an appointment at some other time to speak formally with his future father-in-law. Then he would make an official offer to Miss Hunt, and all would be done. The course of the rest of his life—and hers—would be mapped out. There was very little time for courtship, then, but there was still some. For the rest of the dinner and the journey to Vauxhall, where they were to meet Lauren and Kit and their party, Joseph focused his attention upon his future bride, deliberately noting again how beautiful she was, how elegant, how refined, how perfect in every way. He was going to make himself fall in love with her as far as he could, he decided as his carriage proceeded on its way to Vauxhall. He had no desire to enter into a loveless marriage just because his father expected it of him and because circumstances demanded it of him. “You look particularly lovely tonight,” he said, touching the back of her hand and letting his fingers linger on the fine, smooth skin there. “Pink suits your coloring.” “Thank you,” she said, turning her head to smile at him. “I suppose you know,” he said, “that your father visited mine in Bath a couple of weeks or so ago.” “Yes, of course,” she said. “And you know the nature of that visit?” “Of course,” she sai d again. Her face was still turned to his. She was still smiling. “You are not in any way upset by it?” he asked her. “You do not feel perhaps that your hand is being forced?” “Of course not,” she said. “Or that you are being rushed?” “No.” He had wanted to be sure of that. It was all very well for him to accept that he needed a bride and that this woman was the best available candidate. But it took two to make a marriage. He would not have her pressured into marrying him if she would prefer not to. “I am delighted to hear it,” he said. He would not take the next logical step of asking her to marry him now—he had not yet spoken to her father, and he had the distinct impression that that might matter to her. But he supposed they were one step closer to being officially betrothed. She did indeed look lovely in pink, a color reflected in her cheeks and highlighted by her shining blond hair. He bent his head to kiss her. But she turned her face before his lips could meet hers so that they grazed her cheek instead. Then she drew a little farther to her side of the carriage. She was still smiling. “Have I offended you?” he asked after a few moments. Perhaps she thought kisses inappropriate before an official betrothal. “You have not offended me, Lord Attingsborough,” she said. “It was merely an unnecessary gesture.” “Unnecessary?” He raised his eyebrows and gazed at her perfect profile in the gathering dusk. The carriage rumbled onto the bridge over the Thames. They would be at Vauxhall soon. “I do not need to be wooed with such foolishness as kisses,” she said. “I am no silly girl.” No, indeed she was not, by Jove. “Kisses are foolish?” He was suddenly amused and bent his head closer to hers again, hoping to coax a smile of genuine amusement from her. Perhaps he had merely flustered her by attempting to kiss her. “Always,” she said. “Even,” he said, “between lovers? Between a husband and wife?” “I believe, Lord Attingsborough,” she said, “that members of polite society ought to be above such vulgarity. Kisses and romance are for the lower orders, who belong there just because they know nothing of wise and prudent alliances.” What the devil? Good Lord! He was amused no longer. And it struck him suddenly that in all the years of their acquaintance there had never been any moments of flirtation, any knowing glances, any forbidden touches, any stolen kisses—any of those little gestures between two people who were aware of each other sexually. He could not even remember a time when they had laughed together. There had never been the faintest hint of romance in their relationship. But all that was about to change, surely. Or was it? “You would not welcome my kisses, then?” he asked Miss Hunt. “Ever?” “I will certainly know my duty, Lord Attingsborough,” she said. Know her…? The carriage, he realized, was drawing to a halt. “Are you quite sure,” he asked her, “that you really wish for this marriage, Miss Hunt? Now is the time to say so if you do not. I will hold no grudge against you—and I will make sure no shadow of blame falls upon you when I fail to offer for you.” She turned her head to smile at him again. “We are perfect for each other,” she said. “We both know it. We are of the same world and understand its workings and its rules and expectations. We are both past the first blush of youth. If you believe that you must woo me, you are much mistaken.” Joseph felt as if scales had just dropped from his eyes. Could he have been acquainted with her so long and not suspected that she was frigid? But how could he have suspected it? He had never tried either to flirt with her or to court her—until now. And yet surely he must be mistaken. Surely it was her innocence and inexperience that spoke. Once they were married… John knocked on the door and then opened it and let down the steps. Joseph vaulted out though he felt somewhat as if his heart was lodged in his shoes. What sort of a marriage could he look forward to? One without any love or warmth at all? But he would not believe it. After all, he felt no deep affection for her now though he was prepared to work on his feelings. She would surely do the same. She had just said that she would know her duty. “Shall we go in?” he suggested, offering Miss Hunt his arm. “I wonder if the others have arrived yet.” She took his arm and smiled and nodded to another couple who were alighting from their carriage nearby. Why had he never noticed before this evening that her smile never made her eyes shine? Or was he just imagining things? That nonkiss appeared to have rattled him even if it had not discomposed her.
Peter had met the Duke of McLeith at White’s Club during the morning of the previous day and had invited him to dine on the evening of the Vauxhall visit so that Claudia would have an escort. Claudia was resigned to seeing him again. She was even curious about him. How much had he changed? How much was he the same old Charlie whom she had adored even before her feelings had turned romantic? She wore the dark blue evening gown that had seen service for a number of special evening events at the school. She had always liked it even though it had never made any pretense to high fashion—or even low fashion, for that matter, she thought with wry humor as Maria styled her hair. She pushed memories of the afternoon outing firmly from her mind. She would think tomorrow about the decision she was going to have to make concerning Lizzie’s schooling—and it was certainly not an easy one. And she would try not to think at all about those startling words Lord Attingsborough had spoken to her—I do believe, Miss Martin, you must be the loveliest woman it has ever been my privilege to meet. The extravagance of the words had been mildly distressing. He surely could not have meant them. And yet they were lovely words from a lovely afternoon that she knew she would remember for the rest of her life. Charlie proved to be an amiable dinner companion. He told them about his Scottish estate and his travels in the Highlands. He told them about his son. And he regaled Susanna and Peter with anecdotes from his childhood and Claudia’s, most of them amusing and all of them true. Later, he offered his arm to Claudia after they had descended from Peter’s carriage outside Vauxhall Gardens, and this time Claudia took it. For years past she had suppressed memories of her childhood with him along with everything that had happened later. Perhaps in future she would be able to separate the two in memory—her girlhood from her young womanhood—and let go some of the bitterness. And bitterness was really all that remained. The pain had gone away long ago. “Claudia,” he said, bending his head closer to hers as they followed Susanna and Peter into the Gardens, “this is all very pleasant indeed. I am happier than I can say to have met you again. And this time we really must not lose touch with each other.” Would they have loved each other for a whole lifetime, she wondered, if he had studied for the law and then married her as planned? Would they have remained close friends as well? It was impossible to know the answers, of course. So much would have been different than it was now. Everything would have been different. They would have been different. And who could say if that life would have been better or worse than the one she had lived instead? And then they stepped past the entrance and all else was forgotten. “Oh, Charlie, look!” she exclaimed in awe. The long, straight avenue that stretched ahead of them was lined with trees, and all were hung with colored lamps, which looked magical even now when it was not yet fully dark. The paths were crowded with other revelers, all brightly and elegantly clad for the occasion. “It is rather lovely, is it not?” he said, smiling at her. “I like to hear the old name on your lips, Claudia. I have been nothing but Charles since I was eighteen—when I
