Page 5 of Everything But the Earl
“You are a sculptor, then?”
“Of a sort, yes.”
Owen wanted to pursue that, but they’d arrived at the refreshments table, so he procured her a glass of lemonade, from which she took a dainty sip.
“I have considered marrying my betrothed anyway. Leave him to his affairs in town while I manage his home in the country, but he will not allow it. He says I deserve a true marriage.”
“Aye, you do.”
Grace drank the rest of her lemonade and placed the cup on a tray held by a footman walking by. She waved her hand dismissively. “Men are always presuming to know what is best for women.”
“So you mean to tell me that in this hypothetical future in which you are a woman of means, you wish to deny yourself male companionship? Children?”
That seemed to give her pause, but she shrugged. “If I have my art, I do not need children.”
“All right.”
“Besides, this future is not so hypothetical. Beresford himself pointed out that I could marry a willing man who preferred to stay in the city while his wife retired to the country. I do not see anything wrong with this plan as long as both parties agree to the terms in advance.”
Owen shook his head. He thought her naive. That was, he was sympathetic, as he was not interested in becoming ensnared in a marriage himself. His work at Parliament was far too important, and he enjoyed partaking in female companionship when it availed itself. Lady Grace, as a virginal miss, may not have realized the carnal pleasures she was choosing to forsake for her independence. Owen had always felt people should experience all life had to offer before resigning themselves to their fate.
Perhaps he should introduce Grace to the Duchess of Swynford. Her Grace was married to Owen’s dear friend Hugh, and she had been resigned to a life of solitude until she and Hugh fell in love. The Duchess had thrived at Hugh’s side and had recently given birth to the duke’s heir, a child that, by all accounts, she doted on to an unseemly degree, insofar as women of thetonwere generally not supposed to care for their children if they had money to throw at nannies. Wealthy aristocratic women were too delicate to care for children, according to Owen’s own mother, although the Duchess of Swynford was sturdy enough.
Owen sighed. Why was his mind wandering all over?
“I find it a bit stifling in here,” he said to Grace. “If I recall correctly, Rutherford has a terrace near the back of the house that offers some decent fresh air. Would you like to accompany me?”
“Not to state the obvious, but if I walk out of the room with you, people will get ideas.”
“Let them. We’ve done nothing wrong. And I intend to do nothing wrong by you. You can trust me.”
She raised an eyebrow, but said, “All right.”
Owen knew he was being self-indulgent. He wasn’t ready to let Grace go just yet because he was enjoying her company—particularly the wry expression on her face, as if she was in on whatever he was up to—but she made a reasonable point that people might assume they were courting.
Well, as long as neither put the other in a compromising position, it didn’t matter. All he wanted was fresh air and her company.
Back in the corridor outside the ballroom, Owen paused to try to remember which doorway led to the terrace. “I think it’s this way,” he said, leading her down the hall.
“Would the Rutherfords approve of us wandering around their house?” she asked.
“If you invite five hundred people to your home, you must assumesome of them will wander. I think this is it.”
Owen opened a door that led not to a terrace but to a sitting room. He laughed. “Well, this is as good as anything. Far fewer people in here.”
“What is your aim here, my lord. Do you intend for the maddening horde out there to believe you have an interest in me?”
“Idohave an interest in you.” Which was the truth. He found her so charming, he wanted to have a conversation with her in a room where he could hear her speak.
“Not in marrying me, though.”
“No. But I enjoy your company and hoped to prolong our engagement this evening. You say you do not wish to marry, so can I extrapolate that this means you do not wish to mingle among the eligible bachelors with the other debutantes?”
“I came because my mother insisted, if you must know.”
He could not bed her, and he would not say anything scandalous enough to offend her, but part of him wanted to use their bodies to make what he assumed would be a persuasive argument about why she should perhaps not give up on marriage.
“What are you thinking, my lord?” she asked.
