Page 3 of The Stranger I Love
She insists.
Blowing on the words to dry them, I read through them one last time. I would miss Norwood and the comforts of home. I would miss the memories of my family. And I would miss Reggie. My dear, lost brother.
P.P.S., I suppose I was rather harsh in my estimation of you. You are not a horrible person for wanting my future secure. There is so much I admire about you that would never fill the breadth of this paper. But good qualities aside, I could never marry this man you have found for me. Please understand.
I am sorry . . .
Chapter 2
Atlas
Northamptonshire
If one was consistent at something—say, arriving fashionably late to a ball—it was never a good idea to suddenly amend one’s ways. Someone was bound to be surprised. Unfortunately, in my case, that someone was me.
Clenching my jaw, I pulled away from the repulsive scene before me. I never should have thought Mary Anne was ready for marriage. I never should have taken that walk through the gardens to practice my words. And I certainly never should have seen the woman I was prepared to propose to in the arms of my best friend.
Curse Matthew Barry.
Backing away from the garden path, I retreated to the manor house, my boots clicking on the flagstone. The music streaming through the door blurred in my ears as I opened it. A cacophony of laughter and dancing greeted me—the entire scene tiresome.
“Lord Camden,” a feminine voice called from my left. I turned to find Miss North fluttering her lashes and giving me her most beguiling smile. My hands fisted at my side, and I fought to hide my storm of emotions. “It is so rare to see you alone,” she said. “Fate has smiled down on me tonight.”
At least it was smiling at someone.
“Camden!” another voice called.
I turned to my right, and this time, the sight filled me with relief. “Abramson.” I gripped my friend’s shoulder, shorter than my own by several inches. He would be my method of escape before I did something reckless or offended half the ballroom with my words. “Your timing is impeccable.”
“Is it?” He looked past me to Miss North. “So I see.”
“Miss North,” I said, my words strained and without their usual charm. “Please accept my humble apologies. I have promised a round of cards to my friend, and I must beg you to excuse me.” I took her hand and bowed over it as quickly as I could get away with. I couldn’t stay a moment longer.
She giggled and fanned her face with her hand. “You are excused, my lord. I will stay in this exact position and hope that when you return you might find me with ease.”
The last thing I wanted was to worry about her foolishly waiting for me. “Please, enjoy yourself and do not think of me.” My words were abrupt, but I was doing her a favor. I circled around her before she could respond.
Abramson stepped in pace beside me. “A game of cards is always preferable to dancing.” Together, we maneuvered past a gaggle of women in wide skirts, all eyeing us with hopeful expressions.
A feminine voice whispered as I passed. “His hair is the color of gold when the sun touches it.”
“And he is as tall as Zeus,” anotherbreathed.
Such looks and comments normally flattered me, but tonight they vexed and exhausted me. Those attributes had mattered to Mary Anne, but they had not made her heart true. “The stakes will be high tonight,” I grumbled.
“The cardroom is this way.” Abramson pointed past the refreshment table. “But you know the games here will be quite tame.”
I gave a succinct nod. “You’re right. I need a more serious game than the gentlemen here can provide.” It wasn’t only the thrill of higher stakes I craved, but a place that could make me forget Mary Anne completely.
Abramson grinned. “That’s more like it. It’s been hard to drag you from a party these days.”
He was right. My time had been consumed with courtship—dancing, musicals, and dinner parties. Mary Anne had been my childhood love—a pretty bird who flitted from one task to the next without completion—and apparently, from one man to the next without commitment. What a fool I had been to thinkmydeclaration to court her would change her nature.
Abramson chased after my angry steps to the stables. I paced while a stable boy brought our horses to us. It wasn’t like Mary Anne and I were madly in love. But I had trusted her. Planned for her. Invested my time and feelings in a future with her.
I caught a glance at Abramson as we mounted. He was smiling at nothing in particular. Did he know about the tryst between Barry and Mary Anne? Were my friends truly that despicable? With that irritating thought, I gave Champion a firm kick, sending my stallion into a hard gallop. Abramson struggled to catch us down the country road leading to town, but I did not slow, my hands choking the reins with my tight fists. How many betrayals must a man have in one night? My emotionsbuilt inside me like raging water beating against a narrow dam. I was humiliated, shocked, and so utterly furious.
Two hours later, Abramson and I sat at different tables at a disreputable gaming hell. I could not say about Abramson’s game, but mine was high stakes just as I had hoped, and I was about to win and redeem my night.
