Page 43 of Oddity of the Ton
“I didn’t accept your hand because you’re a duke,” she said. “I accepted it because I was—” She broke off and shook her head.
“You were what?” he asked.
“Mistaken,” she said, her tone flat. “I realize that now. After all, what man in his right mind would—”
“Plentywould, I assure you,” he interrupted. “Not all men are heartless rakes. Granted, we rakes are in the majority, but I’m convinced I could find you a kinder man before the Season is out.”
“How would you know whether he was kind or not? A woman only discovers a man’s true character after she’s reached the point of no return. Given the limited opportunities men and women have to get to know each other before committing themselves for life, what chance hasanywoman of entering into a union with the full knowledge of what her life will be like?”
What an enigma she was! She expressed herself eloquently on the arguments against entering into the marriage state, yetshe’d accepted his proposal so readily under the mistaken belief that his offer was genuine.
For a woman so disinclined to trust others, what had given her cause to harbor such trust in him last night?
And what in the devil’s name was making him want, so badly, to be deserving of her trust?
“In that, I can help,” he said. “In the company of women, a man hides behind a façade of gallantry and restrained politeness. But among his own sex, he speaks more freely. If you permit me, I can point out the more congenial bachelors with whom you have a greater chance of finding happiness.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Are you offering to find me a husband?”
“I’m offering to give you an introduction,” he replied. “With hundreds of young women parading around the ballrooms of London, trying to secure the notice of hundreds of young men, it’s no wonder that the chances of finding the right partner are so slim. If I can steer you toward those I deem more suitable, I would be saving you the effort of having to wade through a cesspool in search of the few gems that exist.”
She let out a giggle. “Cesspool? Are you equally ungallant in your description of ladies?”
“Ah,” he said, “I liken ladies to a barrel of apples—shiny, polished skins, all tempting a man to take a bite. Only when he sinks his teeth in does he discover whether the core is rotten.”
Her laughter died. “Your view of Society is as bleak as mine, Your Grace.”
“Then perhaps we’re not so dissimilar after all.”
The door opened, and Monty glanced over his shoulder to see Miss Howard’s parents standing in the doorway.
He rose to his feet and bowed. “Sir Leonard, Lady Howard—forgive my being so forward with your daughter.”
Sir Leonard shifted his gaze from Monty to his daughter, then back again, suspicion in his eyes. Lady Howard glanced toward the tea things, lingering on the empty cup.
“Your Grace, my daughter doesn’t appear to have served you tea. Eleanor—where are your manners?”
“Your daughter’s manners are impeccable, Lady Howard,” Monty said. “I’m simply not in the mood for tea.”
“Perhaps port is more to your taste,” Sir Leonard said.
“At this hour?” Lady Howard exclaimed, wrinkling her nose.
“Or a brandy?” Sir Leonard continued, ignoring his wife. “I’ve a bottle in my study, and it would give us the opportunity to discuss what, perhaps, ought to have been discussed before the events of last night.”
“Leonard!” Lady Howard said. “His Grace is our guest. I doubt he’d take kindly to—”
“To not being granted an audience with his prospective father-in-law?” Sir Leonard interrupted. “Quite so. Your Grace—shall we?”
There was no mistaking the edge of steel in the man’s voice, the backbone with which he had, no doubt, forged a profitable business—averyprofitable business, according to half of White’s.
“Of course, sir,” Monty said. “I trust you can forgive my transgression of last night, which arose from being caught in the moment.”
“Of course you’re forgiven, Your Grace!” Lady Howard cried. “Isn’t he, Leonard?”
Sir Leonard rolled his eyes, and Monty found himself pitying the man. Miss Howard had been right. Only after marriage did a man learn the true nature of the object of his affections—at which point, it was too late, and he was yoked for life.
Miss Howard rose to her feet.
