Promised?

Ivonne angled her head. She’d misheard. Her nerves and this hullabaloo with Captain Kirkpatrick had her hearing ridiculous things.

Silly goosecap.

Falcon hadn’t announced she was pledged to another. Had he?

She tried to read his expression in the muted light. What was he about? Trying to protect her? He almost sounded jealous.

The notion sent a delicious spark to her middle, and the warmth spread to other unmentionable parts in a most curious fashion. She shifted to alleviate the peculiar sensation.

He didn’t know that Captain Kirkpatrick wouldn’t rest until he unearthed her phantom intended. The widower wanted Garnkirk House. The one hundred eighty acre estate boasted prime hunting and fishing lands. The captain’s obsession with his hobbies bordered on unhealthy.

Falcon long absence from the ton had kept him ignorant of Kirkpatrick’s reputation. The wealthy ship captain’s questionable business association with several powerful peers permitted him the luxury of hovering on le beau monde’s outer fringes.

The widower would place a few prying questions in the right ears and the truth would out. Then where would she be? She expelled a controlled breath. As long as the captain turned his interest elsewhere, she didn’t care what on dit the chinwags bandied about. She was made of sterner stuff than that.

Or so she told herself.

A disturbance outside the arbor reined in her musings. The Earl of Luxmoore, the Duke of Harcourt, and Allen crowded into the already overfull bower. A herring packed tin allowed more room for movement. She wrinkled her nose. And possibly smelled better too.

She sneezed then sneezed again.

“Bless you.” Edwina produced a lacy scrap of cloth. “Have you need of a handkerchief?”

“Yes, thank you.” Ivonne accepted the linen and pressed it to her nose. The cloth offered some relief from Captain Kirkpatrick’s reeking person.

The cozy nook meant for two or three, now teemed with eight bodies, six of whom were muscular males, and one of those rivaled a gorilla in size, smell, and mannerisms.

Ivonne’s leg ached, and all of a sudden, she felt somewhat faint. The confined quarters, Falcon’s startling announcement, and the captain’s belligerent presence, along with her empty stomach, contributed to her light-headedness.

She attempted, without success, to shift away from the mass of bodies.

Captain Kirkpatrick’s intimidating form lurked before her.

No reprieve there.

Edmund stood mashed against her on the right. The arbor’s wall hindered movement to her immediate left. Both prevented her from easing away from Falcon’s solid form pressing into her from behind.

The latter she didn’t mind too much, truth to tell. In fact, the most outlandish urge to lean into him and wiggle her bum plagued her.

How would he react if I did?

The stale air and lack of food must have addled her senses.

Giving herself a mental shake, she peered at the new arrivals. She could scarcely make out who was who within the gloomy interior.

His countenance grim, Allen faced Captain Kirkpatrick. “I’ve asked you before, as has my father, to direct your attentions elsewhere. My sister is not now, nor will she ever be, available to consider your suit.”

The widower’s eyes widened before narrowing in suspicion. “Because she’s promised to another? Who?”

“I’d say that’s a private family matter.” Luxmoore flicked something from his shoulder.

A leaf?

A spider?

Were the nasty devils burrowing into her tresses? Ivonne swept her hand across the top of her head, and then through the tangled mass at her nape a couple of times. She’d be hard-pressed to say which she reviled more. ... The captain or the spiders?

“If she’s not on the Marriage Mart, why haven’t I heard mention of the fact before?” Captain Kirkpatrick crossed his arms and glared round the nook. “Something here is too smoky by far, and I mean to find out what it is.”

On second thought, spiders are adorable creatures compared to Kirkpatrick.

“Why don’t you do that?” Lord Luxmoore stepped forward. “Elsewhere.”

“Yes, a splendid idea.” The duke joined Luxmoore beside the widower. “I’m sure there are a multitude of eager gossips within the house willing to assist you with your intrusive meddling.”

Each placed a hand on one of the sea captain’s arms.

Snarling, he jerked from their holds. He loomed before Ivonne.

Lifting her chin a notch, she forced herself to meet his angry eyes as he towered above her. Marriage to this man was unthinkable. He would terrorize her every day he remained ashore.

“I mean to get to the bottom of this, Miss Wimpleton. I delayed sailing and wasted months courting you with the intention of making you a mother to my sons. I won’t be made a fool of.”

“Did that by yourself, seems to me,” Edmund muttered.

Beside him, Edwina clapped and giggled. “Brilliant, Eddy.”

Captain Kirkpatrick rounded on Edmund. “Stubble it, young pup, before I thrash you soundly.”

“Do come along, Kirkpatrick.” An exaggerated sigh echoed from near the exit, and His Grace beckoned. “I’ve had quite enough of your Drury Lane theatrics for one evening. ... Unless we need to notify Lord Wimpleton we require a dozen strapping footmen to haul you from the premises.”

“You sure a dozen will suffice?” Falcon’s jeer resulted in another round of snickers.

“Bloody arses.” Spinning on his heel, the captain stomped from the nook.

The duke and earl swung their attention to her brother.

Allen waved them away. “We’ll see you inside. Keep an eye on Kirkpatrick, will you?”

With a nod and a half-bow to the ladies, Harcourt and Luxmoore trailed after the grumbling seaman.

“We’ll also be going.” Edwina’s curious gaze swung between Ivonne and Falcon. “I’m sure you’ve much to discuss.”

She didn’t move an inch but instead, head angled and finger on her chin, continued to study Ivonne and Falcon. Edwina was too astute by far. “Ivonne, do you—”

“Um, yes,” Edmund seized his sister’s arm. “We’ll let Aunt Mary and Uncle Walter know where you are. Come along, Winnie.”

After a cocky salute, he dragged Edwina from the enclosure.

They broke into furious whispers the moment their feet hit the gravel path. What were those two conjuring now?

Ivonne eyed the exit longingly.

This evening had the makings of a Cheltenham Tragedy. She’d been accosted, made an inglorious spectacle of, rescued by the only man who’d ever sent her heart palpitating and nether regions tingling, and she would bet her pin money that within fifteen minutes, her name would buzz about the ballroom thicker than bees on honey.

She wanted nothing more than to sneak in the house’s side entrance and flee to her room where she could hide under her bed until next December.

Maybe her parents could be persuaded to depart for Addington Hall early. The social whirl ended in a few weeks in any event. Unless God performed a miracle, she stood no more chance of snaring herself a husband this go round than she had the previous Seasons. She had become an object of scorn and pity.

She would simply refuse to attend another. After all, five stints in Town had quite proved the bon ton deemed her an undesirable. Only fortune hunters sought her out, and even they treated her with barely concealed disdain. Allen could contrive some drivel about her phantom intended crying off.

He had eloped with an actress, entered a monastery, had been sat upon by a blind hippopotamus ...

The reason didn’t much matter.

Ivonne had long since accepted her fate. Some women were destined to live life alone. Her shoulders slumped. Weariness born more from emotional turmoil than physical fatigue encompassed her.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to repair my appearance.” She offered Falcon a brave smile. He would never know how much it cost her to pretend indifference when what she longed to do was throw her arms around his neck, kiss those gorgeous lips of his, and tell him she loved him.

Stop it, goosecap.

He’d made no effort to contact her in six years, and that stung something fierce. No, his indifference had left a deep wound and no small amount of distrust.

“It was wonderful to see you again, Mr. Faulkenhurst.”

Should she suggest he call?

No. Likely Allen had already extended an invitation of some sort, which explained Falcon’s presence here tonight. Let her brother be the one to issue another. She would only appear desperate to see Falcon again.

Because I am. But to what point?

Waterworks threatened, and Ivonne blinked rapidly. She would not shed another tear for him.

She would not.

“Ivy ...?” He reached for her hand, concern shading his voice.

A single tear trickled a scalding path from the outer corner of her eye. She spun away. Lifting her skirts, she tore from the alcove.