Free Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman by Julia Justiss

would have made any difference. Life brings tragedies to everyone; more frequently, it seems, to the blameless. During my first storm at sea, one of the foretop-men, the lads who work the sails at the very height of the mast, was swept overboard. He was a skilled sailor, well liked by all, while the man beside him, an ill-natured creature who caused no end of trouble, was spared. Why young Henry rather than the ne’er-do-well? The Devil protecting his own, perhaps.’
    â€˜You are likely right. Still, it’s hard not to feel responsible, somehow.’
    Miss Neville fell silent, obviously still grappling with her grief. Greville felt an upswelling of desire to comfort her that was as strong as his previous urge to kiss her.
    Well, almost as strong. He yearned to pull her into his arms and promise her the moon, let the warmth of his body chaseaway the cold desolation in her eyes, tease her or even annoy her until he banished the lingering thoughts of loss.
    Kissing her would certainly distract her, his body suggested hopefully. Why not satisfy both urgings?
    Such a ploy would likely distract her right into planting him a facer, Greville answered himself. Still, he had to struggle to silence that tempting voice and quell the immediate effect the idea of kissing her produced in his all-too-needy member.
    While he was thus preoccupied, Miss Neville said, ‘Perhaps I should wait another year. But…there’s nothing at Ashton for me save sad memories, and I did promise Mama.’
    â€˜Doing what your mama wanted is the important thing.’
    â€˜I know, you are right.’ She uttered a strained laugh. ‘It’s ridiculous, but I am still so torn. Eager to embrace my future on the one hand, yet strangely resistant to leaving. It’s as if, as long as I remain at Ashton, I haven’t completely…lost Mama and Grandmama and Aunt Felicia. But once I go to London and embark upon my Season, the Season we spent so many evenings planning together, I can no longer escape the fact that they are truly gone…and I must live my life without them.’
    â€˜Tied to a past that cannot be recaptured, yet uncertain about moving forwards?’ Greville said, thinking wryly he stood in almost the same position.
    Her eyes widened. ‘Yes, that’s it exactly! How perceptive you are, Mr Anders.’
    He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I’ve had some…perspective-altering experiences myself this last year.’ Like having his self-esteem and sense of position plunged into the maelstrom of the sea, to emerge eight months later, like a ship repaired after a storm, with a whole new rigging of attitudes about life and his place in it.
    She nodded. ‘Are you finding it difficult to move forwards?’
    â€˜My future plans are still…unsettled,’ he conceded. ‘Aboutyours, however, there can be no doubt: you shall become one of the Season’s reigning Diamonds, intrigue a host of high-titled aspirants to your hand and choose one lucky man to be your husband.’
    She chuckled. ‘That was certainly Mama and Grandmama’s plan. I was raised on tales about the dazzling Duchess of Devonshire, the premier light of society during Grandmama’s years in London. Both she and Mama set their hearts on my making a brilliant match to a gentleman of high rank and political influence.’
    With a smile, she continued, ‘They made life in London sound so exciting! By the time I was sixteen, I was convinced I wanted to be just like Lady Georgiana—though not, of course, quite as much of a gamester. Or at least, not a losing one,’ she amended with a laugh.
    That small joyous sound dispelled the lingering sadness on her face and left him wondering whether her smile or her vulnerability was more appealing.
    â€˜You mustn’t think I value myself too highly!’ she added, her levity vanishing beneath a sudden seriousness. ‘I realise I’m not a