Page 2 of When She Loved Me
“What if I fall in love, Papa?” Nicole Kent asked.
Baron Kent chuckled. “Then make sure you fall in love with at least an earl or better,” he suggested.
Nicole stared at her plate, thoughtful for a moment. “Poor Sabrina,” she lamented.
“Poor Leven,” the baron observed.
THREE WEEKS AFTER THEcontracts were signed, one week before the betrothal ball, Trevor Wentworth’s fiancé finally agreed to an assignation with him. He had met her on few previousoccasions, but the last had been in the company of her father and the necessary solicitors, precluding any conversation as Baron Kent considered this solely as a business venture, leaving off the need for pleasantries. And still, Trevor had determined, in his newly betrothed’s company for less than five minutes, that she approached this union as poorly as he did. She’d made it quite obvious that this situation was not to her liking. Five minutes in the staid and aloof company of Sabrina Kent and Trevor knew he was heading down the same forlorn path his father had taken. Was it, he needed to determine, worth it? For while Miss Kent might be the reigning beauty of theton, truly a creature a man should covet, Trevor read instinctively that she was not of a mind to make the best of this circumstance. Beautiful blue eyes had watched him surreptitiously, but with rancor, and not mere curiosity.
Were there possibly other heiresses he could pursue? he wondered desperately while he awaited her presence in the London home of the Kents. He knew this year’s crop of available and marriage-minded females had produced few with a dowry to compare to Miss Kent’s. And, too, she was also endowed with a separate inheritance from her mother’s estate, that woman having been the widow of a rich earl when the baron had taken her to wife many years ago.
Trevor had yet to think of himself as a fortune hunter, though he knew that was exactly what he was, and there was no prettier way to define it. Only, he had a title to offer. His saving grace.
He’d considered often over the past few months, since learning of the exact state of affairs of the Leven title and estates, just letting the whole damn thing sink into oblivion—to hell with itall! But aside from the very real possibility of he, himself, having to endure such a sentence as living out his years in debtor’s prison, he had the thousands of people of Leven to consider—the servants and farmers and tenants, and churches and villages, too. Their very livelihoods depended upon him being able to wrench them out of the revolting grip of coming financial disaster.
Checking the ormolu clock on the mantle in the front parlor showed Trevor that his dear Miss Kent had now made him wait almost twenty minutes for her august presence. He’d arrived today with the baron’s permission to call upon his betrothed that they might begin to form a relationship, lest the betrothal ball and wedding show only two strangers who might prefer to be anywhere else in the world at the time.
Finally, the door to the parlor opened and reveal his betrothed, nearly as lovely as the occasion of their first meeting, save that her eyes would meet his not at all.
“Good day, Miss Kent,” he greeted when she seemed disinclined to speak at all, but only entered the room and stared at his cravat, her lips pinched rather sourly. At his words, she tilted her head in acknowledgement, though tendered no similar greeting. “Shall we take a ride through Hyde Park?” He offered, reigning in his own discomfiture, stalwart in his determination to make this work, and make it work better than his own parents’ union had.
“Yes, let’s,” she surprised him by agreeing so readily—agreeing at all. “I’ll call Nicole.”
His brow lowered. “Nicole?”
“My sister,” she answered, suddenly perky. “Step-sister, actually. She shall serve as our chaperone.”
“Terrific,” Trevor murmured as Sabrina left the room to fetch said sister. He considered Sabrina’s classic blonde beauty and knew if, once she warmed to the idea, or mayhap once he’d charmed her to the idea, and perhaps then she showed a personality as pleasing as her outward appearance, this union would stand a chance. He could be attracted to her, he would woo her. As of yet however, she’d shown him little more than a morose and unhappy woman who likely would not even attempt to make lemonade out of these supposed lemons.
“Here is Nicole, my lord,” Sabrina called as she returned to the parlor, trailed by a younger woman, who couldn’t have been more different from Sabrina than if they’d had different fathers as well.
Nicole Kent was slightly taller than her sister’s diminutive height, but slim still as she was so young, perhaps two or three years younger than Sabrina’s twenty-two years. Her hair was a dark mahogany while Sabrina was a true blonde. Their eyes were nothing alike, either, though the beauty of Sabrina’s blue orbs was challenged mightily by the captivating green of Nicole Kent’s eager glance.
“Good day, my lord,” Nicole greeted him. She was neither shy nor aloof, the advantage of youth allowing her to be natural. She walked directly to him and vigorously pumped his hand. “Welcome to our family—well, very soon, anyway. It will be so nice to have a brother, finally. Always, it has only been Sabrina and me. I, personally, could have made grand use of a brother on various occasions growing up. As it is, I still haven’t a sure grasp on fishing properly. My, but you are handsome, my lord.” And she tossed over her shoulder at her still and expressionless sister, “Sabrina, I do envy you.”
She took a moment then to draw breath and Trevor could not help but smile. How refreshing was her artless chatter, her very appreciated chatter, such as it was. When she smiled, which he guessed she might do quite often, there appeared on either side of her mouth the most enchanting dimples. Trevor found himself never so happy to meet a person in all his life. If Sabrina should choose to remain so detached, at least he had this little whirlwind to amuse him.
“Miss Kent, how very nice to meet you,” he said, and bent charmingly over her small hand. She giggled at the bare touch of his lips on the back of her hand and hastily withdrew it, taking a moment now to don her pretty white gloves.
“Yes, well, now you see why we rarely bring her ‘round,” Sabrina called from behind her sister, her voice slightly acerbic.
Nicole only laughed at her sister’s jab, in fact did not see, as Trevor did, the shrewd blue gaze settled so unappreciatively upon her.
“Shall we go, then?” He asked.
“Oh, yes, let’s,” Nicole chirped excitedly, slipping one arm through Trevor’s and the other through her sister’s as she herded them outside, chattering away.
“I spied your team from my window, my lord,” she confessed as they neared his open carriage parked in front of the Kent townhouse. “They are truly magnificent. Did you purchase them at Tattersalls?”
“No,” Trevor answered lightly. “They were brought up from Brighton.”
“Is it true that no woman has ever been allowed there?”
“In Brighton?”
Nicole giggled again, removing her hand from the crook of his elbow as he passed Sabrina up into his fine rig. “No, my lord. At Tattersalls.”
“Oh, yes,” he answered vaguely, completely disenchanted with his betrothed, who spared him not a glance as she was set into the vehicle and not even a spare gaze as he stood and stared at her for a brief bit of time. He turned then to Nicole to hand her into the rig. She happily placed her gloved hand into his, her eyes merry as she continued to talk.
