“I’m sorry,” she lied, “but I have other plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“I have a performance at a private event later on. I’m contracted, so I can’t cancel it.”
He appeared petulant and aggrieved, providing ample evidence that no one ever told him no. The poor boy. He was so spoiled, and it was another sign that they could never have any kind of relationship. She was spoiled too, and she had a nasty habit of ignoring bossy men. If she ever relented and they commenced a liaison, they’d drive each other mad in just a few hours.
“Come,” she said. “I have to get home.”
He rose to his feet without further complaint. They had a delay as his carriage was harnessed, but it was a companionable delay. They chatted in the driveway, and he stood very close, whispering naughty suggestions in her ear and teasing her with compliments that made her laugh.
Once they were in the vehicle, they kissed all the way to her house, so that, by the time her footman helped her out, she was quite overcome.
He tried to climb out too, but she insisted he remain where he was. If he escorted her to the door, she’d invite him in, then would find every excuse to prolong their parting. But it would be ridiculous to prolong it.
She reached up to him where he was lounged on the seat like a lazy king, and he clasped her hand and kissed it.
“I’ll miss you every second while I’m gone,” he said.
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Be safe, will you? Take care of yourself.”
“I’m always safe,” she said, “and I always take care of myself.”
“I doubt that’s true, and I’ll worry.”
“I don’t believe anyone’s ever worried about me before.”
“Then I shall be the first. I’ll fret constantly until I can be with you again.”
They shared a poignant gaze, where she catalogued his features. He was departing, but he didn’t understand that it was farewell. They were smitten beyond reason, and she had to be sensible for both of them. She was better at saying goodbye than any woman in the kingdom; she’d had plenty of practice.
“Thank you for this afternoon,” she told him.
“We’ll have many more—as soon as I’m back.”
“I can’t wait.”
She pulled away and motioned to the driver that they were finished. His outriders jumped aboard, and with a crack of the whip, they lumbered off. She dawdled in the street, her last glimpse of him the smile he flashed out the window.
After he rounded the corner, she spun and went inside. Fish had been watching for her, and she bounded down the stairs.
“Well?” she asked as she slid into the foyer. “Did anything interesting happen?”
“No. We simply ate a delicious picnic under a pretty tree.”
“Your hair is down.”
“I was kissed with a reckless abandon.”
“Are you wild for him? Is he wild for you?”
“Yes, so we’ll flee London for a bit.”
Fish’s shoulders slumped. “But we just got here! And I like this house.”
“I realize that, but we’re not the type to put down roots.”
“Yes, but I’d like to think—at my age—we can manage to stay in one place for a month or two.”
“We have to book a different engagement—and it has to be far from London.”
“Lord Barrett must be incredibly besotted.”
“He might be,” Libby admitted.
“How about you? Are you besotted?”
“If I am or if I’m not, it can’t ever matter.”
“A girl can earn a ton of benefits by allying herself with such a wealthy man.”
“A girl might be able to, but you know my opinion about that sort of illicit bargain.”
“Yes, and you know mine. You’re entirely too morally inclined. It’s a mystery to me how I could have shaped your attitudes for most of a decade, only to have you make such peculiar choices.”
“In most people’s view, Fish, moral conduct is expected and admired.”
“It never took me anywhere, and I don’t see that it’s done much for you either.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to be a decent person.”
Fish might have pursued the argument, but Libby held up a palm to prevent it.
“Let it go, Fish. I’m weary, and I need to prepare for tonight.”
Fish scowled. “Is your heart broken? Is that the problem?”
“It’s not broken yet, but if I continue on with him, it definitely will be. So could we please stop talking about him?”
She whirled away and climbed the stairs to her room, determined to act as if all was fine—and it would be shortly.
She had a show to perform, then she had to move and find a new situation. All of it would keep her busy, and she’d forget about Lucas Watson—as she was sure he would forget about her.
She would arrive at that ending. She would save Luke from himself, and in the process, she’d save herself too. She was certain she could accomplish it. In fact, she was already halfway there.
“Tell me again. How many people have you invited?”
“Honestly, Father, you should pay attention to me once in a while.”
Charles Pendleton, Lord Roland, dragged his gaze away from the morning newspaper and focused it on his daughter, Penelope, whom they called Penny. He was having breakfast in the small dining room, and she’d surprised him when she’d deigned to stagger down just past nine.
She’d never been a morning person, and after she’d proclaimed herself to be an adult and no longer a child, she’d declared that she could sleep the day away if she chose. It was odd to see her up and about before noon.
“I always pay attention to you,” he lied, “but how many guests is it again?”
“A few dozen will be housed in the manor—as I’ve been explaining for weeks.”
“And what about the various dances and suppers you’ve scheduled every evening? Will we host the neighbors over and over?”
“Yes, along with the tenant farmers and prominent merchants.”
“What about the ball on the final Saturday night. How many have been invited to that?”
“It’s quite a large group. Aunt Millicent can give you the exact number.”
“For those staying in
