Page 11

“Grace Winfield is here, darling. You should say hello.”
Ryder couldn’t hold back a sigh.
Sadie gave an unladylike snort and sent him a sympathetic glance.
The countess persisted. “I’m not suggesting you ask her out. Just say hello.”
“I understand she is still unattached.” The calculation in his father’s voice had Ryder glancing longingly toward the glass exit doors.
He should have stayed in Paris.
The Grace he’d known as a child had matured into an accomplished woman—and one of his mother’s favorite topics of conversation. But he wasn’t interested in acquiring a wife, suitable or otherwise.
He’d made himself vulnerable to love once and had no intention of doing so again. Any woman he spent time with understood his attention wouldn’t lead to a more permanent relationship.
His mother peered up at him with the electric blue eyes he and his sister Becca had inherited from her, her elegant features pinched. “I’m concerned about you. We never get to see you and we know hardly anything about your life. All those years overseas with the army and then with a private company doing dangerous things. Have you had anyone special in your life since…?” Her voice trailed off as a look of discomfort flitted across her face.
The back of Ryder’s neck tightened. “No. Nor am I looking.”
“Not everyone finds it that easy to forget their soulmate,” Sadie said. She observed him from beneath her lashes as she took a sip of her cocktail.
His sister was wrong. He didn’t believe in soulmates.
“She was a dalliance.” The disdain dripping from his father’s tongue made Ryder’s teeth clench. Nathalie had been far more, but he wasn’t having this argument again.
“I’m fine, Mum, you needn’t worry.” He brushed a kiss across his mother’s cheek. “We’ll catch up soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to say hello to some friends.”
With a curt nod to his father and a kiss for his sister, Ryder moved further into the crowd. He grabbed a fresh glass of bubbly and downed a few hors d’oeuvres before he proved his father right and let the alcohol in his empty stomach go to his head.
Two classmates from his time at Eton stood off to one side, deep in discussion. He greeted them, but the conversation soon stalled as he failed to find anything in common with his former mates. After the things he’d seen and done, the social conventions of the Oxbridge elite seemed irrelevant.
His attention wandered as the men nattered on about a polo match. He thought back to the conversations he’d had with Fitzy, Linley, Hadley, and his other SAS mates. Favorite weapons, crude toilet jokes, and a dark humor about death.
Conversations that would horrify this crowd.
“I see you escaped the family gauntlet.” Grace Winfield’s amused voice came from over his right shoulder.
He excused himself from his Eton classmates and turned to give her a polite peck on the cheek. “Hello, Grace. How are you?”
“It’s been ages.” Grace’s pale blue eyes regarded him with fondness. “How long have you been back in the UK?”
She’d been a pretty girl with long limbs, apple cheeks, and wispy blonde hair. Now, she tamed her hair with an expensive cut, her figure had matured with womanly curves, her attractive features accentuated with expertly applied makeup. Her jewel green gown exposed her smooth, pale neck and shoulders. The emeralds adorning her neck likely came from her family’s collection.
There was enough expensive jewelry in the room to fund a minor war.
“Not long,” he replied. “My parents have already begun their campaign to get us together.” At one time, both sets of parents had assumed they’d marry. He and Grace had even dated casually when they were teenagers. Then he’d gone off to Oxford and met Nathalie.
One of Grace’s neatly groomed brows arched. “Oh my. That makes what I was about to ask you somewhat difficult.”
“Oh?” Now it was his turn to arch a brow.
“My father has a private box in the Championship Pavilion for the golf tournament in Surrey next weekend. Members of the Royal Family are attending as his guests. He won’t say which ones, but I’ve been strongly advised to show up with a suitable companion.” Her rose-colored lips turned down at the corners. “I was hoping you’d save me from having to ask Reginald Davies. He’s my father’s latest attempt at matchmaking and a pompous ass.”
“It sounds incredibly dull.” When her face fell, Ryder hastened to add, “But, if it will save you from Reginald Davies, I’ll go.”
Grace’s pink-tipped fingers clutched his sleeve. “Oh, you are a dear. Thank you.”
“You do realize, however, that our parents will get the wrong idea and double their efforts to get us to marry.”