“Oh, sweeting, we do. It’s just—”
Constance’s throat burned and she fought back the tears. “I should feel something for my husband shouldn’t I? Or should I just feel grateful he was willing to marry me, despite my illegitimacy?”
Phillipa walked toward the tables and chairs on the terrace and sank into one. Constance followed suit, and gave Phillipa a small smile when she gripped one of Constance’s hands. She wanted only to hide how shattered she was.
“I do understand, Connie, more than you know. And I do not beseech you to marry Lord Litchfield to save your reputation.” Phillipa smiled gently as if to remove the sting of what she was about to say. “But when he asked for you last year, you did say yes. I ask you to remember that you must have had some feelings for him and to give him a chance to court you again. And if those feelings resurrect, you could marry him.” She squeezed Constance’s hand.
Constance sighed. “He is no longer interested in me, Phillipa. I have rejected him twice now.”
Phillipa frowned delicately. “I am certain he will offer for you again soon.”
“I do not wish to marry him.”
“It is unlikely you are going to receive a better offer.” Philippa flushed as she realized what she had said.
Constance looked away. Phillipa was right, Constance was unlikely to ever receive any other offer. It didn’t matter.
Viscount Litchfield was charming when he wanted to be, but it was all surface. The gentle way he had treated her, the laughter, the dancing, and the carriage rides had meant nothing to him. He was shallow, and his supercilious manner of late had certainly not endeared him to her. He had actually hinted that she should be thankful he was willing to marry her despite her inferior circumstances. It upset her to know that she had not seen through Litchfield’s superficial charm and accepted his first offer at all. Was her judgment so impaired?
She stood abruptly. She needed to be alone with her thoughts for a few moments. “I have been meaning to visit Lady Lawrence’s conservatory. I heard that it is one of the most beautiful in London.”
Phillipa blinked at her sudden change of topic. “I will come with you.”
“No!” Constance hastily amended her tone. “You are needed elsewhere. I spotted your sister in the ball, and Payton looked utterly forlorn. It is a shame the Honorable St. John broke their engagement. Please spend some time with her instead. I assure you I will be quite safe in the conservatory on my own.”
Phillipa hesitated, then nodded and departed.
Constance heaved a sigh. Emotions rioted within her. She hated that everyone felt she should accept Lord Litchfield again simply because she had said yes before. He had cried off, for heaven’s sake! And truth be told, a part of her had been relieved when he had withdrawn his offer. She knew now, the feelings she’d had for him had been warm at best, but at the time she’d had nothing to compare them with. She’d thought those modest feelings were perfectly right and acceptable.
Until she’d seen Mondvale for the first time. He had stolen her breath away.
He’d been present at a ball she was attending. They hadn’t even been introduced. It had appalled her to know she could possess such a raging desire for a perfect stranger. It had also instantly made her doubt her feelings for Lord Litchfield. He must have sensed something different in her that night as they danced, for he had drawn her into the gardens and kissed her for the first time. She had felt nothing as he pressed his lips to hers, other than a vague annoyance. Which had flummoxed her. She had been so sure passion for one’s betrothed was a real thing. How could the poets have gotten it so wrong? She had pulled away, giving him a puzzled smile, then turned to flee.
And ran smack into Mondvale.
Unfathomable eyes had looked down at her, and a sardonic twitch had appeared at the corner of Mondvale’s mouth. A primal thrill had surged through her, as it had continued to do each of the four times she had glimpsed him since that fateful night.
Constance had known then, without a doubt, that Lord Litchfield was not the man for her. The one positive thing about her fall from society’s grace was not having to explain her change of heart to him or her family. He’d saved her the trouble. Even now with her reputation in tatters, she could never marry him.
See? There was a silver lining to every storm cloud.
She danced down the stairs leading out into the vibrant, shrubberied gardens and took the path heading toward the conservatory. She rounded the bend and paused. A tingle caressed her lips and neck, and she held her breath. There was no one in sight, but she felt as if someone was watching her.