Page 87 of If the Duke Dares
“You really think I can hold my head up at this party?” Pandora asked.
“The Dowager Duchess of Wellesbourne is going to publicly support your return to Society. How can you refuse such a wonderful endorsement?” Persephone held her breath. She wanted nothing more than for her sister to feel normal again.
Pandora released Persephone’s hand. “I don’t want to return to Society, Persey. I’d like to leave it, for a while at least. I’ve written to Tamsin and asked if I could go spend the winter with her.”
The entire winter? Persephone didn’t want her to be so far away. “That’s a long time to be gone,” she said slowly. “I would miss you horribly.”
“Not if you come with me,” Pandora said with an eagerness that tore at Persephone’s heart. “I think I’ll be able to face things much better in the spring. I might not want to join Society then either, but you must, whether it’s here or in London. I will support whatever you decide.”
How could Persephone say no? Pandora needed the time and distance to recover. Then she’d offered to come back and be here for Persephone. “Of course I’ll come with you. We will always stand by one another.”
“Spinsters to the end if it comes to that?” Pandora asked with a laugh.
That had been Persephone’s plan. However, she couldn’t deny a subtle but primal hope that things between her and Acton could continue. Regardless of what she’d said to him, the idea of permanence, of never having to say goodbye to him held a shocking appeal.
Perhaps she should have allowed him to propose.
Except he couldn’t love her. And that requirement was nonnegotiable. There was also that pesky but probably true rule about rogues not changing. Persephone would much rather ride off into spinsterhood with her beloved sister than risk heartbreak with a proven scoundrel.
After an invigorating morning ride, Acton was feeling much more balanced than yesterday. Last night’s assignation with Persey had also certainly contributed to the improvement. They had not planned to meet tonight due to his mother’s party, but he hoped they would be able to steal a few moments during the soiree.
Once he’d washed the exertions of his ride away, he went downstairs to eat something more substantial than the toast and tea he’d consumed earlier. However, he was diverted from his plan by the arrival of his friends the Viscount Somerton and Lord Droxford.
He encountered them in the entrance hall as they arrived and invited them to the library. Admitting them first, he closed the door behind himself. “I’m so very glad to see you both,” he said.
Somerton was an affable fellow, slender, with wavy, dark blond hair and piercing green eyes, which ladies found irresistible, along with ridiculously long lashes. Droxford, with his perpetual scowl, somehow also managed to be sought after by the fairer sex, though he rarely paid them any attention. With his thick dark hair, brooding coffee-colored eyes, and wide shoulders, he could almost be mistaken for a brute. However, Acton had seen him laugh once or twice, and, in those moments, Droxford looked somewhat like a fresh-faced lad. It was quite the dichotomy.
“We both got your letters,” Somerton said, depositing himself in a chair. “As it happened, we independently decided to come to Bath and met at the White Hart purely by chance.”
Acton looked to Droxford. “You left Winterstoke to come to Bath?” Aside from attending to his duties in the House of Lords in London, Droxford only left his baronial estate a few times each year.
“You sounded distraught,” Droxford responded before pulling out a chair at the round table near the window and lowering himself onto the seat.
Sitting in a chair somewhat between the other two men, Acton said, “Well, I appreciate you both responding to the call of a friend. Perhaps one of you can tell me if our other friend Bane is in fact betrothed?”
“Have you not seen the paper today?” Somerton asked.
“No, I was out riding.” Acton shot out of his chair and went to the door. Opening it, he called for Simmons to bring him the newspaper. A moment later, the butler arrived with the requested item. “Thank you, Simmons.” He closed the door again and returned to his seat, waving the paper. “What am I looking for?” He feared he already knew. There was an announcement about Bane’s betrothal.
“Page three, I believe,” Droxford said. “Announcements.”
Acton flipped to the appropriate page and instantly saw it. “Who the hell is Lady Isabel? And don’t say the daughter of the Marquess of Malton.”
Droxford pressed his lips together while Somerton waved his hand. “Someone Wolverton wanted Bane to consider as a wife,” Somerton responded. “I don’t recall meeting her in London, but that doesn’t mean anything. They’re to wed in two weeks’ time in northern England somewhere—near her father’s estate. The banns have already been read.”
“How do you know so much?” Acton asked, irritated that he’d known nothing, not even that Bane’s father was trying to match him with some unknown lady from the north of England.
“I was with Shefford after theincidentwith Miss Pandora Barclay,” Somerton said. “Sheff was privy to what happened as a result of it.”
“And?” Acton prompted. “What happened?”
“I’m not entirely clear on some of the specifics, and I’m not sure Sheff is either, but Bane said he’d done something bad. He also said he’d fixed it. Then he told Sheff that he needed to go meet his betrothed.”
Fixed it.How was that possible when he’d left a young woman ruined?
“Did Sheff ask Bane when he’d become engaged?” Acton asked. “I saw Bane not long before this happened, and he didn’t say a word.”
“He kept it private,” Droxford said with a shrug. “Perhaps the wisest thing he’s ever done.”
