ABIGAIL

“I’ll have the roasted duck, and Lady Strathmore will have the gorgonzola salad with ahi tuna.”

The waiter nods and reaches for our menus, but I hold up a finger. “Actually, I’ll have the braised lamb, with the garlic-whipped potatoes. And another martini. Make it a double.”

Finley gawks at me as the waiter leaves the table. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a meat and potatoes type of woman.”

“What type of woman do you take me for?” Because so far tonight, you haven’t asked me a single question about myself.

“Well, you’re very pretty, of course.”

Gee, that’s insightful. “Thanks.”

I fiddle with the silverware, adjusting the spoons and forks until they’re lined up perfectly. I didn’t want to come on this date, but sadly, of all the suitors, Finley appears to be the most appropriate match out of the lot, even if he has come across as very full of himself so far this evening.

“And you have lovely parents.”

“I do, yes.”

Finley reaches for the basket of freshly baked herb bread. “Would you care for some?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks.” I slug down the rest of my first martini and look around for the waiter, hoping to see him en route with a refill. So far, although he’s bored me to tears, I’m grateful that Finley’s not a pompous jerk with outdated views like Horace the Horrible and very thankful he doesn’t have creepy alien-abduction fingers like Mr. Harridan.

He sets the basket down and looks at me for a long moment. “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, at the dance?” he asks, his voice softer, quieter.

I look up from fiddling with the silverware, surprised by both the change of tone and topic. “Perhaps we did.”

“I need to apologize for that.”

I fold my hands together and give him my most attentive gaze. “I’m listening.”

“You are such a beautiful woman—”

Oh, come on! You were so close! “Yes, you’ve mentioned that already.”

“—and well, it’s not easy being in my position.”

“What position is that?”

“In competition with all these other men, each of us scrambling to get a moment alone with you. It makes us do stupid things, really — like trying to kiss you during a first dance together. We’re all so desperate to charm you, or at least, I am.”

“I see.”

“There I was, holding you in my arms, staring into your lovely eyes, and I just wanted nothing more than to kiss you. It took me forever to work up the courage, and then suddenly the song was ending, and I panicked. I shouldn’t have tried, though, it was too forward of me — I’m sorry about that.”

“I appreciate your apology. And yes, I was taken aback. It wasn’t what I was expecting from a first dance with a stranger.”

“I understand, it was very impolite of me.”

“But then again,” I continue, taking a deep breath, “your explanation just now wasn’t what I was expecting, either. So, perhaps I’ve judged you too harshly from one encounter. I have to admit, from my initial impression of you, I would not have thought your ego would allow you to confess to having any weaknesses, not even something as simple as being nervous.”

“Given what happened, I don’t blame you at all for that thinking. But if I may be equally bold and honest in my response — I usually am not the nervous type. You have that effect on me, my Lady. It’s quite unsettling and… well, more than a bit intriguing, too.”

“Oh.” Now I’m blushing. I’ve never been great at taking a genuine compliment, but especially not from people I least expect one from.

“Call me a hopeless romantic,” he says, leaning toward me. “The music was lovely, you looked stunning that night, just as you do now, and I got swept away in it all. With you in my arms, I forgot all my manners. Please forgive me.”

I look at him for a long moment. He’s no Henry. He’s not nearly as charming, or as handsome, or as interesting. But he’s trying, at least. Which is more than I can say for myself. I’ve barely been going through the motions of being courted, much less really giving any of the men a shot at impressing me. I owe it to my family to give my suitors a chance, and Finley seems like he might have some promise yet.

“You know what we should do?” I say, smoothing out my napkin against my lap, settling in to enjoy our dinner.

“What’s that?”

“Let’s start over, shall we?” I suggest with an amicable smile. “Just wipe the slate clean.”

He beams at me. “That would be wonderful. I’d really like a chance to get to know you, Lady Strathmore.”

“Please, call me Abi. And I’m happy to tell you anything you’d like to know. All you have to do is ask.” Hint, hint.

Finley smiles at me and nods. “I do tend to rattle on about myself when I’m nervous, I’m sorry for that.”

“Apology accepted.”

“That’s very gracious of you. Now, if you’ll do me the honor, please tell me about yourself. Why did you choose to attend Umberland University?”

Taking a deep breath, I put a smile on my face. I’d rather be tangled in the sheets with Henry than at this table with Finley, but the night has finally taken a pleasant turn, and I might as well make the most of it.

I need to stop daydreaming about Henry and focus on the task at hand. He’s been the most amazing distraction from this dreadful situation, but fear I’m sliding too far into fantasy land. Every moment with him is a blissful escape from reality. He’s irresistible — gorgeous and talented in ways that make my knees weak and oh, God, the way he looks at me, it takes my breath away. But none of it is getting me any closer to ensuring my family’s future.

All too soon, I’ll be making a decision about who I’m going to marry. And unless I want to draw names from a hat, I need to take this seriously, for everyone’s sake. No matter how much I run from my fate, it’s going to catch up with me.