The Regency Season: Passionate Promises. Ann Lethbridge

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      It was not disappointment she felt at his display of indifference. Not at all. She had to be glad.

      * * *

      Freddy kept his face expressionless as he left the ballroom. Dancing. She should be dancing with Granby. They were of an age. Whereas he felt ancient. Weighed down by the responsibilities of a dukedom he’d never wanted in the first place and by the mess he now found himself in with regard to Minette. He’d been a fool out there in the garden. Thinking there might be something good in this marriage. He wasn’t the right man for her. Never would be.

      She’d be better off with a young innocent like Granby. His hands clenched into fists. His inability to retain control had robbed her of choices. When they were married, he would give her all the freedom she needed. The ice inside him grew colder and darker.

      He strode into the card room and took an empty seat with men he knew would play hard and drink deep. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said.

      The dealer dealt him his cards.

      He didn’t emerge from the card room until a footman came to tell him his party was ready to leave. He gathered up his winnings to groans from the other men, who had been hopeful of winning some of their money back.

      ‘Duty calls.’ He said the words carefully. It would not do to be seen to have imbibed too much when one was escorting ladies home. Besides, even though he had drunk more than his fair share, he didn’t feel more than slightly up in the world. He was accustomed to hours spent quaffing blue ruin in taverns and cognac at his club while keeping his wits about him.

      He met Gabe, Nicky and Minette in the foyer.

      Gabe frowned at him. ‘Ready to leave?’

      ‘Absolutely.’

      He held out his arm to Minette, and they walked out the front door and climbed into the carriage. He eyed Gabe warily. ‘Something wrong?’

      ‘Tonight was supposed to be damage control,’ Gabe said, his tone just a little savage. ‘You spent all night in the card room.’

      ‘I did not. Minette and I spent a good long time together.’

      ‘In the gardens, out of sight.’

      The implied criticism flicked like a whip across his skin. ‘Are you saying you expect us to live in each other’s pockets? You know I don’t dance. Am I to stand and watch my fiancée flit around the ballroom in the arms of other men, looking sullen? If so, you need Byron, not me.’

      ‘Byron didn’t put her reputation at risk.’ Gabe’s tone was implacable.

      ‘Really, Gabe,’ Minette said. ‘Am I not supposed to dance at all?’

      Freddy clenched his back teeth before he said something stupid like ‘No’. And then realised she had actually come to his defence. He frowned at her, puzzled.

      ‘I don’t see why you are being so stuffy, Gabe,’ she said. ‘If we are happy with the way we spent our evening, then you should be, too.’

      ‘They spent enough time together to stem the worst of the gossip,’ Nicky said. ‘As long as they continue in this way, I think all will be well.’

      ‘Do you? You don’t understand our English ton, madame. They are willing to forgive a romance but they are not willing to forgive indiscretion. You need to give them the romance. Spending half an hour in each other’s company doesn’t cut it. You might have taken her in for supper at the very least.’

      ‘I am sorry, mon beau-frère,’ Minette said soothingly. ‘I am sure we shall do better next time, n’est-ce pas, Freddy?’

      There was something in her voice that said she was pleased with the way things had worked out. And that she had not the slightest intention of doing better. No one would be in the least surprised if their passion died a natural death and the engagement ended. But there would be consequences.

      Was that what she had been plotting with her friend? No wonder she hadn’t been concerned when he’d gone off to pursue his own pleasure while she’d danced with whomsoever she pleased.

      He leaned his head back against the squabs and watched her face from beneath half lowered lids. Now he saw the game she played. Well, he would not be foxed. Not by a chit barely out of the schoolroom.

      ‘I will call for you at four tomorrow afternoon. We will drive in Hyde Park.’

      ‘Good,’ Gabe said.

      Minette looked less than pleased.

      Freddy showed his teeth. ‘After all, I am sure you have another new gown from Madame Vitesse to show off.’

      He could almost hear the grinding of her teeth.

       Chapter Seven

      Minette liked driving with Freddy. His skill meant she could relax and take in all that Hyde Park had to offer on a June late afternoon. Driving was slow at the fashionable hour, but driving wasn’t the point. The afternoon was bright and warm. And despite the odd lazily drifting cloud she felt no need for a wrap or shawl. The perfect climate to show off Madame Vitesse’s latest creation in a way that would make the seamstress rub her hands together.

      They greeted and were acknowledged by gentlemen on horseback and couples in carriages, but not all the nods they received were warm and friendly. One elderly woman turned her head in a manner that made it clear she disapproved of them.

      Freddy pretended not to notice.

      ‘What did you do to her?’ Minette asked.

      His lips tightened a fraction. ‘Lady Ransome is my mother’s friend.’

      She frowned. ‘Then why would she cut you? That is what it is called when one presents you with their back, ne’st-ce pas?’

      ‘It was more of a cold shoulder.’ His face remained expressionless.

      ‘Why, Freddy?’

      He shrugged. ‘They do not care for my rackety person any more than my mother does. Owning a gambling hell is hardly the thing for a gentleman.’

      She was aware that it was considered de trop for a gentleman to be engaged in trade of any kind. But the bleakness in his eyes suggested there was more to it.

      ‘It is not unusual for a mother to publicly disapprove of her son and heir?’

      He grimaced. ‘She sees me as a usurper of my brother’s birthright.’

      ‘You had an older brother?’

      His jaw flickered, his shoulders tensed. ‘I am surprised you haven’t heard. He was killed in a driving accident.’

      Pain coloured his voice, followed swiftly by such a coldness of expression it discouraged further enquiries. ‘I’m sorry. Were you close?’

      ‘Yes.’

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