Page 2 of In With a Chance

Well, no more. She was going to be the Marchioness of Ravenshurst, and she was going to be rich, and she was going to like it.

Gwen steadfastly ignored the unpleasant twinge in her stomach. After all, title and affluence were all there was to look forward to in life, were they not?

“In fact,” the marquess said quietly, “and I speak as someone who has eaten many, I do not think I have ever consumed a cucumber sandwich that is superior.”

Oh, Lord.

Trying her best to find the conversational topic before her brilliant and exciting, Gwen nodded encouragingly. “That’s very interesting, my lord.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said the man with a small smile as he sat opposite her on their picnic rug. “Yes. Yes, very interesting.”

“Very interesting, indeed,” said Gwen helplessly.

“Very interesting.”

If she did not have a conversation about something actually interesting soon, she might be forced to strip off all her clothes and run about in the rain.

Not that I ever would, Gwen thought dismally. I’m not that interesting.

“You know, Miss Chance,” the marquess said unexpectedly, finishing his cucumber sandwich and blinking through the unmistakable rain that had started to fall, “I was hoping to have a moment alone with you.”

Gwen perked up immediately. Now this was more like it.

“Though I had hoped it would not be so…so full of weather,” Lord Ravenshurst said dryly—the only thing dry about him, Gwen thought.

He glanced up at the sky and in that moment, almost as though Gwen had orchestrated it herself, the rain cleared, the sun broke through the clouds, and Hyde Park was filled with the gorgeous golden sunlight that London was sometimes treated to near the end of summer.

Her breath actually caught in her throat. She could not have hoped for better.

“Ah,” said the marquess. “Good.”

He shifted somewhat on their rug and Gwen’s mother perked up over his shoulder. She was a great one for modesty and decorum, her mother, and had insisted—despite Gwen’s great wish for privacy—that she would accompany the Marquess of Ravenshurst and her youngest daughter on this picnic.

Well, Gwen would have to hope that soon there would be something worth interrupting.

Lord Ravenshurst cleared his throat. “Miss Chance.”

Gwen batted her eyelashes as she beheld him. “Lord Ravenshurst.”

He was not an unpleasant man to look at, she mused as she took in his brief smile and the momentary warmth in his eyes. Aside from what she determined to be a weak jaw, he was, in fact, relatively handsome, except that he looked bored most of the time, or absent in some strange way she could not articulate. There would be real charm in his expression if he smiled more, and a sparkle in his eyes if he ever appeared to be enjoying himself.

Well, I can change all that, Gwen told herself firmly. Once they were married—presuming, of course, that he was about to propose, but surely, he had to be after such a specific invitation—she would entertain and charm him as best she could, and they would be happy.

Rich, and well-respected, and therefore happy.

“I must tell you that I have enjoyed these last three weeks together,” the marquess said with not a hint of enjoyment in his tones.

Gwen’s smile became weak. “Must you?”

This was ridiculous. Her eldest sister, Jessica, had been proposed to by a man who had never met her before that moment, and they seemed happy enough. Her second eldest sister, Irene, had been proposed to by a great friend of the family after the rest of them had for years presumed they would of course one day get engaged.

It had all happened so easily for them—but then, it always did. Everything always did.

And here she was, wearing the lowest-cut gown her mother had assented to purchase for her, practically spilling out of it as she leaned forward for another one of these damp cucumber sandwiches, and the Marquess of Ravenshurst hadn’t even bothered to goggle at her!

It was most provoking.

“Yes, I must,” Lord Ravenshurst said shortly. “And tell you other things.”