Free Three Weeks to Wed by Ella Quinn

sip of sherry. It really was very good, and she was feeling a bit better. Why had she been so stupid? She sat up straighter. “That, unfortunately, doesn’t do either of us any good at all. I cannot marry. Not him, nor anyone else.”
    â€œIt’s a shame he didn’t figure out he was in love with you before your parents died. Though really, men can be such big noddies.”
    She finished the glass, stood, and started to pace. “I must avoid him. There is absolutely no conceivable way I could ever tell him I only wanted one night.”
    â€œNo, I can’t see him taking that well at all.” Phoebe shoved a small cushion behind her back. “Though Grace, I shall own myself surprised if you can avoid meeting him. You’d be better occupied deciding what you will say when you do see him.”
    Grace had reached the end of the room and turned. He’d never understand. Men could do what she’d done, but ladies, at least unmarried ladies, could not. “Yes, you’re right, of course.”
    Charlotte knocked on the door and came in carrying a largish magazine.
    Grace quickly brought herself under control and smiled. “Well, my love, did you find anything?”
    â€œI found several wonderful gowns,” her sister said, with a sly grin. “If only you will allow me to have diamonds sewn onto the bodices and wear silk.”
    Grace held out her hand for La Belle Assemblée to look at the pictures Charlotte was mooning over. The ball gown depicted was in a pale lavender with a darker color underskirt. The narrative recommended small diamonds or some other gemstone. Grace assumed a prim expression. “If you wish to dress in diamonds, you will have to set your cap at a very wealthy gentleman who will agree to give you a large allowance.”
    â€œOh pooh. I don’t care that”—Charlotte snapped her fingers—“for such fripperies. Although I did think it was extremely droll.”
    Grace laughed. No, she’d never give up her brothers and sisters. “Well, we had better be on our way. Aunt Almeria plans to serve an early dinner until we get used to Town hours.” She held out her hands to Phoebe. “Thank you for our conversation. Will you join us to-morrow?”
    Phoebe grinned and glanced down at her stomach. “Yes, I think I shall. I’ll very soon need new gowns, again.”
    As Grace and her sister strolled arm-in-arm across the square to their aunt’s house, she thought of and dismissed ways to tell Worthington she could not wed. Somehow she’d find a means to convince him, if she couldn’t avoid him altogether, that was. Which was a much better plan.
    * * *
    Matt sat in the large leather chair behind his desk in his study, staring out the window overlooking the still-empty garden. In another month it would be green again, and his sisters would be out there playing rather than running up and down the corridor over his head. He was glad there were only four of them. He hoped his lady liked children.
    A light knock sounded on the door. It opened to reveal Patience carrying a small basket. “What is that?”
    She set it on his desk. “Invitations. All the ones you told me to accept for you. Really, Worthington, it is time for you to hire a secretary.”
    He’d asked her to accept any invitation at which she thought his lady would appear. Swallowing, he asked, “How many?”
    She huffed in frustration. “If you attend four events an evening, every evening except Sunday, you will not have met all your obligations.”
    He glanced at her expectantly. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to . . . ?”
    â€œNo.” Her lips firmed and her chin jutted out a bit. “ I am not looking to be carried off to Bedlam. Louisa and I will attend only the entertainments most suited to finding her a husband.”
    Diverted, Matt frowned. That was not what he and Patience had