Chapter Sixteen

B reakfast was a silent affair. Byron went through the morning post after he finished, setting aside a few items he would give more attention to in his study as he sipped his tea.

Beyond a brief Good morning , no one else had said a word. Forks clicked on plates as everyone ate in silence. He decided he wasn’t in the business of fixing things in this instance. He felt no need to apologize for his choice of a bride. As he had told them, he was the marquess. Whom he wed was his affair alone. They did not have to like—or even support—his choice.

It troubled him that it would alienate him further from his mother. They had never had a close relationship, and he had hoped to repair it after he came home from war. That hadn’t been the case. As far as Aunt Flora and Uncle Hugh went, he believed the couple upset with him now, but they would forgive him in the end.

He did worry how Jacinda would treat his relatives. They would not be together often, but he would expect her to show respect to her elders, even if she would never have a close relationship with his family.

Or him.

For a moment, Byron questioned why he was doing what he was doing. It would be so much easier to ignore Jacinda and Lord Hampton and follow his heart, pursuing Lady Mirella. Yet ingrained in him was such a deep sense of obligation and duty, knowing a marriage between a Balfour son and a Bowles daughter was what his father had wanted. Even expected.

He rose, excusing himself, and retreated to his study. The stack of invitations on his desk grew by the day. He sorted through them now, deciding he would ask Mama to reply to the newest of them in the affirmative, for the four of them. He did not know which events Jacinda would attend, and so he did not want to lose any ground to another gentleman by skipping any of them.

Usually, a secretary would take on such a duty as responding to invitations, but his brother had not had one. When Byron had questioned Paulson about it, his butler had informed him that the previous Lord Bridgewater had not bothered responding to any invitations. He merely showed up at the affairs he wished to attend. Byron thought that unconscionable, but it did sound like Dawson. His brother would not have cared if he alienated any of London’s hostesses. After all, he was secretly betrothed and in no need to remain on the good side of anyone.

He thought again of his plan to announce his betrothal to Jacinda as soon as possible and decided that would not be feasible. From the little he had been around her last night, he understood she was reveling in making her come-out and attending the many social events. If he pressed her too early, she might reject him outright—and he wasn’t having any of that.

Instead, he decided to go with the plan he had first hit upon. He would take Lord Hampton aside this afternoon and make the necessary arrangements with the viscount. Once again, Jacinda would be left in the dark about the plans made on her behalf, but he supposed many parents amongst the ton did the same each Season. A dutiful daughter would simply obey and follow through with the arranged marriage.

Then he thought of how Lady Mirella wished to make a love match, as others in her family had done. A deep yearning filled him, need for her so great that it was almost a physical ache he carried inside him. He would carry through with his commitment today, but he would refrain from calling upon her in the future. If their paths crossed at a social event, he would be polite but distant.

And he knew now never to ask her to dance again.

Byron had dreamed of Lady Mirella when he had finally fallen asleep. He had stripped off his clothes and fallen into bed, not bothering to wash, because he could still detect the faint scent of her perfume on him. In his dream, he had kissed her. Made love to her. He had awakened with an aching cock and an emptiness which would never be filled. Still, he would do his duty and link the Balfour and Bowles families, get his heir off Jacinda, and then see that they went their separate ways.

He thought how happy his aunt and uncle were after so many decades of wedded bliss, knowing he would never experience the same satisfaction in the marriage he made. It did not matter. He would have his marchioness. Get his children. Most importantly, he would never return to town for the Season again. He would be happy to send Jacinda to London and let her be with her friends. Even her lovers, once Byron had his heir. It was common amongst the ton . No one would think twice of it, as long as his wife could conduct any affair discreetly.

By not attending the Season, he would not have to see Lady Mirella ever again. He would not see her with the husband she chose and have to curb his jealousy of the man. He would not have to see her mature, growing more lovely with each passing year. He would not have to meet her children or see her relatives or even think about what they might have had together.

He pulled out his pocket watch and saw it was time to make his two calls. Naturally, he would call upon Jacinda first. She was his priority. He rang for Paulson and ordered his carriage to be readied. Trepidation filled him as he rode through the London streets, thinking about approaching Lord Hampton regarding his sister.

Cursing, he told himself that he was a bloody marquess. He should have no fears. He was doing his duty in choosing a bride, one familiar to him. By Season’s end, they would wed, and he would get her with child as quickly as possible.

But his thoughts meandered, and he went back to those moments with Lady Mirella atop Helm Crag. Closing his eyes, he could feel her in his arms once more. Taste the sweetness of her. Those kisses had been the most memorable of his life.

Opening his eyes again, he thought of a simple solution. He would not kiss Jacinda. Oh, a perfunctory one every now and then, but he did not want to share something as intimate as the kisses he and Lady Mirella had shared. In a way, the kisses were more special and private than the act of making love might be. Byron would save that small part of him and her. It was theirs alone.

He reached Lord Hampton’s townhouse and saw other carriages lining the streets. The butler admitted him, directing him to the drawing room. Looking about, he doubted any of the gentlemen present had an iota of the true Jacinda Bowles. Yes, they looked upon her beauty and were taken in by it, yet they had no idea of who she truly was. Byron had hoped for the best and been disappointed last night after their shared supper. Her conversation was limited, and her shallow nature had been apparent. He wondered how many of these men would continue to vie for her hand once they got to know the true Jacinda.

Probably most, he told himself. After all, weren’t a majority of these men the same as he was? Looking for a woman to wed and not really caring much about her. He couldn’t blame any of them if they continued to admire her strictly for her looks.

Without speaking to Jacinda, he drew Lord Hampton aside, taking him to the far corner of the drawing room.

“Thank you for calling today, Lord Bridgewater,” the viscount said. “As you see, my sister is proving to be quite popular.”

“I wish to wed Miss Bowles,” he said flatly.

“What?” Lord Hampton looked shaken by the sudden announcement.

“I know you are aware of the marriage contracts drawn up for your sister and my brother. That they were legally betrothed and would have wed after this Season played out.”

“Yes,” the viscount said, questions in his eyes. “What of them? The marriage settlements are obviously null and void because of your brother’s... passing.”

“There is no need to tread warily, Hampton. The both of us know that Bridgewater and Hampton were drunk when they raced one another that day in Hyde Park. My brother’s death put an end to the plans our fathers had of uniting our families.” He paused. “I am willing to take my brother’s place and wed your sister.”

“You... would do that?” Lord Hampton asked, his shock evident.

“I would,” he said firmly, his commitment to family now voiced.

“Jacinda is . . . well . . . my sister is quite headstrong, my lord.”

“I can deal with that.”

The viscount studied him. “I believe you can.”

“I do not think it wise to tell her of this now. She did not know of the previous betrothal. I think we can refrain from mentioning this one for a month or two. Let her enjoy her come-out Season. Dance and flirt. Then when engagements start being announced, you can take her aside and share with her that her future is secure.”

Hampton’s laugh sounded like a pig snorting. “I will not be telling Jacinda anything, my lord. You are to be her husband. I think it wise this information comes from you.”

Byron had not particularly liked Hampton, but he thought the man weak.

“I will do so,” he promised. “In the meantime, I will have Mr. Pilsbury, my solicitor, get in touch with your solicitor if you will provide me with his name.”

“It would be the same man who negotiated the previous marriage settlements, my lord,” the viscount told him. “He has handled our family’s affairs for many years now.”

“Then I will have Pilsbury write to him, and the two of them can handle the negotiations. Would you be fine with a similar arrangement as the one our fathers came to regarding the betrothal?”

Byron eagerly anticipated the viscount’s answer, thinking if Hampton wavered, he would agree to forgo Jacinda’s dowry to further tempt the man.

“Absolutely, my lord.”

Not that he needed her dowry, but he was glad the contracts could stand as previously drawn up.

“I will notify Pilsbury of our intentions then, Hampton.” He glanced up, seeing Jacinda smile prettily at the circle of men about her. “For now, I will go and spend a bit of time with my future marchioness.”

“I will not say a word of our arrangement to Jacinda, Bridgewater,” Lord Hampton said. “She is quite headstrong. I believe the news of her betrothal will be better coming from you.”

Byron nodded. “Then I will let you know when I am going to approach her. For now, I will play the besotted suitor.”

He left Hampton and moved across the room. Two of the men were saying their goodbyes to Jacinda. Byron looked at the other two sternly, and they took the hint, also taking their leave.

That left the two of them alone, and he said, “Good afternoon, Miss Bowles. I have come to call upon you.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “I received your lovely floral arrangement, Lord Bridgewater. By far, it is the largest of all which have arrived today.”

“Good. I wanted it to stand out. I am most interested in you, my lady. I intend to be your most faithful suitor.”

He knew not to stay more than a quarter-hour, thanks to Aunt Flora, and was surprised how long those fifteen minutes stretched out. Jacinda talked only of herself or of her other suitors. He had never met a more self-centered person. She was concerned solely with herself. No other topic seemed to interest her. He found it hard to listen to her as she went on and on and was happy when a pair of gentlemen arrived and could take his place.

Waiting for her to wind down, he finally got in a word and said, “I see you have two new suitors who have come to call upon you. You must give them your full attention, my lady,” he told her. “I would, however, request that you save a dance for me this evening. The supper dance,” he insisted, knowing how bored he would be in her company.

She smiled flirtatiously. “I will do so, my lord.”

“Perhaps we can sup alone. I would prefer to have you all to myself.”

She tittered at the suggestion. “Of course, my lord. I am certain that, as a marquess, you are used to getting your way. I am happy to accommodate you.”

He took her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he brushed a kiss upon her knuckles. “Thank you, Miss Bowles. I look forward to this evening.”

Byron took his leave, returning to his coach. His driver asked where he was off to next, and he instructed him to head to Mr. Pilsbury’s office.

He climbed into the vehicle, a wave of nausea passing through him. He told himself he was doing the right thing, and yet it felt so very wrong. Sitting back against the cushions, he wondered how long he would be able to stomach courting Jacinda.

Byron did not let his thoughts roam toward what marriage with her would be like.

When he arrived at the solicitor’s, the clerk greeted him immediately, saying, “Good afternoon, Lord Bridgewater. I was not aware you had an appointment today.”

“I don’t,” he said crisply. “I only need five minutes of Mr. Pilsbury’s time. Is he available?”

“One moment, my lord.”

Soon, the clerk ushered Byron into Pilsbury’s office, where the solicitor greeted him warmly.

“How might I assist you today, Lord Bridgewater?” the older man asked.

“It is a simple matter,” he replied. “Do you recall how we spoke of the marriage settlements which had been signed by my father and Lord Hampton several years ago?”

“Yes, of course. We spoke of them when you returned to claim your title.”

“You said you still had a copy of the documents. If so, use them as a reference. Set up a time as soon as possible with Lord Hampton’s solicitor and update these contracts, inserting my name where my brother’s had been. All other items are to remain the same, just as my father wished.”

Pilsbury nodded. “I see. So, no changes are to be made.”

“None. Once you and this solicitor have rewritten them, contact me at once. I will wish to review them before we meet with the current Lord Hampton in order to sign them.”

“I will handle this matter immediately, my lord,” the solicitor guaranteed. “May I extend my congratulations to you on your betrothal?”

“Do not put the cart before the horse, Pilsbury,” he warned. “Only when both parties have signed will I accept your good wishes on my upcoming marriage. Good day.”

Byron quit the offices, returning to his carriage. Though it was later than he wished, he instructed his coachman to take him to the Duke of Seaton’s townhouse. He would keep his word and call upon Lady Mirella.

Because he had to let her know they had no future together.

Obviously, they would run into one another during the various events of the Season, but he needed her to understand that while he would be polite, he intended to keep his distance from her. She needed to know that so she could look forward—and not behind her.

When he arrived at the square where the ducal townhouse stood, it surprised him it was not more crowded with carriages and hansom cabs. He had seen so many vehicles at Hampton’s and assumed the same would be true here. Then again, he was much later than he had originally intended to be. Perhaps the bulk of Lady Mirella’s callers had already come and gone.

Byron left the carriage, his heart heavy, and approached the Seaton townhouse. He had no idea how he would get Lady Mirella alone.

Much less have the courage to tell her he wished to have no more to do with her.