Not that any of his ploys to embarrass her had worked. Well, not really. Theton, she hoped, had moved on from the many love letters that had been passed from debutante to debutante featuring her adoration of the man. Six years had passed since the day. The day she had walked into the Croft ball and knew in an instant, from the pointing and laughing from her once-friends, that something was amiss. And that it had something to do with her.
This Season would be different, and she was determined to make it so. What gave her hope, of course, was her secret weapon. A book at her disposal. A guide, really, or at least what every wallflower who knew about the tome was calling it. In the bowels of Hatchards, the book was stored under a bookcase, and those who knew it was there could read and learn from what was written on the pages.A Wallflower’s Guide to Becoming a Bride. This Season, her sixth, would be her last. She would find a gentleman who was genuine in the art of love and affection. A man who would voice the words required for a betrothal to be announced. A man who would fight for her love. A man who would not shame and humiliate her when she needed him most.
A man who was not Lord Jersey.
Sutton clenched her jaw, forced her hands to relax at her sides. Her nemesis threw back his head, laughing at something Lady Fiona Bunnyweather, the Duke of Glyn's daughter, had said. He was so false. How did no one see through his dishonesty? And Logan Carleton would pay for his mistreatment of her during her coming-out year. She would make certain of it.
"You know that he will not ask her to marry him. He's a rogue who likes to play with his food. You were once his meal, and look what happened to you," her friend Lottie stated, matter-of-fact, watching Lord Jersey and Lady Fiona with a disinterested air. "You are still on the market as so many of us are, and so too will Lady Fiona. Lord Jersey will never marry. My brother said so himself at dinner several nights ago.”
"Frederick declared that?" Sutton pursed her lips, wondering if what Lottie said was true. Logan certainly seemed to have a different woman hanging off his arm at every ball and party. A gentleman who enjoyed the widows of thetonmore than the debutantes who graced the same rooms. Maybe he still desired a bachelor's life to one of wedded bliss.
Sutton sighed, remembering being the center of his life. Hanging off his every word as if the world started and ended with his opinion. What a silly little fool she had been to believe any of his drivel. She inwardly cringed at the missives she wrote to him. How could he have passed them out around London like some kind of amusement for everyone? Her words, no matter how misplaced concerning his lordship, were still hers. Her heart and soul scribbled on parchment. The letters were meant only for him, not for the gossip-hungryton.
How could he have done such a thing to her? Humiliated her and stripped her of all hopes for a good match.
She had thought he may have read them, placed them in a desk drawer, and forgotten about her feelings for him, but he had not. Instead, he allowed thetonto devour her letters and person for weeks before she fled back home to Kent. Never in her life, no matter how long or short it may be, would she ever forgive him his actions.
"He is not worth your pain, Sutton. It has been years, and you can be thankful that you weren't ruined by what the rogue did to you. There have been worse scandals in thetonsince your letters flew about like they had wings. At least you never ruined yourself, not really in any case."
Shame washed over her at Lottie's words, knowing that before his lordship broke her faith, she had trusted him with the most precious gift she could ever bestow on a man.
Her innocence.
A gift she could no longer gift her husband-to-be, whomever that ended up being. That she wasted herself on a heartless rake made the blood boil in her veins.
"I thought myself in love with the man. How foolish I was. Naïve and ridiculous. How he must have laughed at my expense."
Lottie pursed her lips, shaking her head. "He would not dare laugh at his deplorable actions. He is no gentleman, and I must admit, I'm quite shocked that Lady Fiona would allow him to giggle and flirt with her. She's supposed to be our friend. What is she about, do you think?"
Sutton shrugged, supposing her friend was about like so many others here this evening. Determined to find a husband, no matter how sullied his past may be. Or who of their friends hearts they had broken.
"Lady Fiona may laugh at his words, but I do not think there is anything more to their conversation. She is our friend and knows how to play the game better than we. She is a duke's daughter after all, and is not without bite."
"True," Lottie said, sipping her wine. "If only there were more gentlemen to choose from, this Season would have some merit. Mayhap I will return home to Surrey and die an old maid there. It would probably prove more interesting."
Sutton chuckled, elbowing her friend to remove her from her sullen mood. "No, you will not leave town. I need you here with me. We are going to find husbands, as promised to each other, at the Season's first ball. Lord Jersey's arrival will not halt our plans. We simply will have to work around his presence and keep our distance. He is not a man any of us will consider, and when possible, we must give him the cut direct."
"Oh yes, that I can agree to." Lottie paused a moment. "It does make me wonder, though, why he broke your heart in the way that he did. You were so close once. He was your brother's best friend and yours too, I believed. How could he treat you so poorly? It makes little sense."
It made little sense to Sutton too, and she had spent countless hours going over every detail, every conversation, look, or touch to try to find where she had gone wrong. "It is what it is, and we must make the best of things. I shall deal with Lord Jersey myself. You need only to concentrate on finding your future spouse, not mine."
"Oh, I shall," Lottie said, her tone more determined. "And you too. Anyone here who has potential?"
Sutton's attention moved over the throng of guests for the millionth time that night, but like a moth to a flame, always returned to Lord Jersey and his handsome, wicked visage. With dark hair with the slightest curl, he had prettier locks than half the women present. His face was carved from a Greek god sculpture, she was sure, perfectly proportioned and symmetrical.
If only his kisses were not so memorable. They haunted her still each night when she went to bed, cold and alone, growing ever older with each year.
A wallflower…
Ugh. How she hated that title.
Lord Bishop came up to them, bowing, before asking Lottie to dance. Her friend threw her a surprised smile before she was twirled off down the ballroom floor. Sutton stood alone, watching the play of guests. She supposed she ought to look at the gentlemen who graced the Season this year. Particularly those who had been married before and were now widowed, looking for a mother for their children. Maybe they were as desperate for a wife as she was becoming desperate for a husband.
At her age of four and twenty, the men, some of them barely eighteen, were too young to consider. Fresh-faced and immature little pompous dandies. Her options for finding a match slimmed further.
The Season is young, do not give up so soon, Sutton.
She rallied her thoughts, raising her chin, and waited for a gentleman to ask her to dance. All would be well. Someone would marry her, the guide would ensure her success, and then she would prove to Lord Jersey his betrayal meant nothing at all to her. Certainly not any longer. He was in her past, and that is where he would remain.