Page 104 of Oddity of the Ton
“You’re an insufferable snob, Mother,” he said. “I saw the look of horror in your eyes when I offered for her—have you never wondered why I did?”
“Ye gods!” she cried. “Does Miss Howard know you entered into a false engagement with her merely to irk me?” She shook her head. “I don’t know whether she or I should be the most insulted. At first I thought Miss Howard deserved my pity for what you’re doing—elevating her hopes before abandoning her. But in abandoning her, I believe you’ll be doing her a great service.”
“Why? Because marriage to me is a punishment?”
“For Miss Howard, perhaps,” she replied. “A girl of her class most likely harbors an expectation of marrying for love. But those of our rank donotmarry for love.”
He glanced at her and saw sadness in her eyes—a sadness born of a loveless marriage to a faithless duke who believed that his title gave him free rein to behave as he liked, and rut whom he liked, no matter how many hearts he broke.
Monty had no wish to follow in his father’s footsteps—a man who’d broken his vows and his wife’s heart, leaving behind a bitter widow who, instead of directing her resentment at the man responsible for her misery, had pushed her hatred toward the man’s natural child.
Olivia. How his life might have been different had his half-sister been in his life from the beginning! He could have indulged and protected her, and accompanied her to her first London Season. And no older brother would have been prouder.
“Perhaps Lady Arabella Ponsford—”
“No, Mother,” he interrupted. “I’ve no intention of inflicting that harpy on Rosecombe, or on myself.”
“But propriety demands—”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” he cried. “Over the years, you’ve said, and done, enough for the sake of propriety—and it’s made you bitter and miserable. Well, propriety be damned! When I’ve concluded my business with Miss Howard, I’ll return to Rosecombe and take up the responsibility that I have thus far neglected.”
“I’m delighted to hear that, Montague.”
“I doubt it,” he said, “for I refer to my responsibility to my sister.”
“I told you never to mention that.”
“Stop right there!” he roared. “Like it or not,I’mhead of this family, of which Olivia is a member, not only by virtue of being a direct descendant of the fourth duke, butbecause I say so.”
She stared at him, curling her hands into fists, and for a moment he thought she might strike him. Then she nodded.
“Perhaps my son has finally grown into a man,” she said. “Go to London, Montague. Do your duty to Miss Howard and let her down gently. Then come home and do your duty to your title.”
Before he could respond, she returned inside, tap-tapping her cane on the gravel drive.
Yes—he would do his duty to Miss Howard then part ways with her. But he would always carry a piece of her in his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Of all thedelights of London, he’d miss Hyde Park the most. As summer drew to a close, the park became a riot of color—the leaves of the trees, ranging from green, to orange, to vibrant red, illuminated by the sunlight until they looked as if they were on fire.
He checked himself. Since when had he become so damned poetic?
Since Eleanor.
He glanced at the woman on his arm, but she was too preoccupied with the view across the Serpentine to notice. Her face was in profile, wisps of hair dancing about her face in the breeze; her eyes shone in the sunlight, their vivid green reflecting the leaves that were yet to succumb to the onset of autumn. A soft smile curled her lips—lips he now knew tasted of honey and cinnamon, the sweetness of innocence with a spicy undertone of uniqueness.
Would he ever taste lips as sweet?
In fact, would his life ever be the same, or would it forever be divided into two?
The time before, and the time after, Eleanor.
TheTime After Eleanorwould begin tomorrow, when he would parade about this very park with Daniella and Cerise on his arms, before he left for the country to spare Miss Howard too much humiliation.
They approached the water’s edge, where a man in regimentals stood, reading a booklet. He turned as they approached, and Monty recognized Colonel Reid. The man’s eyes widened as his gaze fell on Eleanor. Then he looked to one side, toward the rest of Eleanor’s family ahead on the path, where Juliette Howard was walking arm in arm with the Duke of Dunton.
Juliette was a fool, casting Reid aside for that lecherous old fossil! And she was an even greater fool if she believed she had a chance of becoming Dunton’s duchess. Dunton used his title not only to open doors to the best clubs in London, but also to open the thighs of every debutante desperate to wed a title—only to cast them aside.
