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he said, leaning closer so only she could hear. “Is it so difficult for you to imagine that I am coveted? That young ladies aspire to marry me if for no other reason than to please their overeager mamas?”
    â€œYour arrogance is unbecoming,” she said, even though she knew he spoke the truth. A man with his features and in possession of both title and wealth would never be unpopular. Quite the opposite.
    â€œA matter of opinion,” he stated. There was a pause, and then, “Allow me to ask you this: if I had compared your eyes to summer skies when first we met, would you have been flattered? Or would you have wondered about my motives?”
    Sarah forced herself to breathe, no matter how difficult the effort seemed. A coincidence. That was all it was. Lord Spencer couldn’t possibly know that those exact words, among many others, had compelled her to toss away her innocence two years earlier. She told him the truth when she answered. “I would have thought you the worst possible scoundrel.”
    â€œAnd so you should have if I had indeed said such a thing. Not doing so would be extremely naïve.”
    Heat rose to her cheeks as she averted her gaze, concentrating on the plate of fruit that had been placed before her. Continuing her conversation with Lord Spencer would prove to be not only pointless but also painful. He was unmovable in his convictions as well as a constant reminder of how utterly stupid she’d once been. But she’d been given a chance to put all of that behind her. And so she would, with Mr. Denison by her side. In exchange, she would trade in all the silly dreams she’d ever had of marrying for love.

 
    Chapter 4
    H e’d upset Lady Sarah, Christopher realized as the meal drew to an end, but as usual, he’d been unable to halt the bitter words from escaping his mouth, for they reflected the way he felt—­a wariness of any young lady who showed an interest in him.
    Then again, it had been five years since Miss Hepplestone had disappeared from his life forever. How much longer was he going to put off doing his duty because of the apprehension she’d instilled in him? Forever seemed like a feasible time frame.
    Rising, he offered Lady Sarah his hand, assisting her until they stood across from each other. “It was a pleasure,” he said politely. His mother had made a great effort turning him into a gentleman. It was about time he started acting like one. “Perhaps I’ll see you again soon.”
    â€œPerhaps,” she said, not meeting his gaze, though she did manage a weak smile as she took her leave of him. And then she was gone, leaving Christopher in the company of the other gentlemen with whom he was meant to enjoy the obligatory after-­dinner drink. Crossing to where his father was sitting, Christopher took the vacant seat beside him and attempted to concentrate on the conversation he was having with some of his acquaintances, Mr. Hewitt and the Duke of Pinehurst, about horses. “I’ve an urge to buy myself a new stallion,” Lord Oakland was saying, “and since my wife’s birthday is approaching, I’m considering getting her a new mare as well. Don’t suppose you’d happen to know of anyone who’s selling prime stock at the moment?”
    â€œI’d try Mr. Frick if I were you,” Mr. Hewitt said. “He’s quite the expert on horses—­always has a ­couple of fine ones up for auction at Tattersalls. Few years back, he began crossbreeding his best Thoroughbred with an Arabian he acquired on the Continent, producing spectacular foals—­expensive, mind you, but well worth it if you’re looking to please your wife.”
    â€œI remember when the two of you became affianced,” the Duke of Pinehurst said, changing the subject. He was a stout-­looking fellow with more girth than height to his aging figure. He pointed a finger at Christopher.