“I wasn’t in Society at all when I was last a respectable member of the Davies family,” he began. “I was too young. And I ran off to sea before I could leave home to get more of an education.”

“So your terror is because it’s unknown?” she said in a speculative voice. “Though that doesn’t seem likely. You ran off to sea, for example, not knowing anything about it.”

“Leaving the familiar has always fascinated me.” Odd how he had never articulated that to himself. He shrugged. “I think that what I loathe is all the protocol. The having to be polite to people you despise, having to attend parties and pay attention when you’d rather be doing something—anything else.”

“But if you never did it, how do you know it’s as terrible as you say?”

Griffith bristled at the idea that he was prejudiced against something he hadn’t experienced himself. Even though what she was saying was true.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “Perhaps it isn’t as bad as I’d imagined. Perhaps all the young ladies who obtained introductions this evening truly wanted to converse about the weather and the party.” His tone was skeptical.

She nudged him in the arm with her elbow. “Stop. Those young ladies are far more trapped than you will ever be. They are trotted out like show ponies for inspection, with the prize being stuck with one person for the rest of their life.” Her tone made it clear what she thought about that. “I know your fear is that you’d accidentally wind up married to one of them, but imagine how they feel? Knowing that their future existence depends on being chosen by some lord because of how well they danced, or what they look like?” She snorted. “That is my idea of torture. Pretending to be your betrothed is far more pleasant, at least.”

“I am glad I am the lesser of two evils,” Griffith replied. “Is that what you went through before—before?” He paused, not sure how to reference her past scandal. Since he didn’t even know what it was, but since she had a child and no husband he could likely guess. Not to mention how strongly she’d advised him against asking her to pose as his betrothed. Or the requirements she’d insisted upon. Which, of course, had only made it seem that much more intriguing.

“I had a season,” she said. “I went to parties and spoke with gentlemen and wore pretty gowns. It wasn’t all awful. I got to dance, and I do love to dance.” She emitted a rueful laugh. “Which is what got me in trouble.” She paused. “But I do not want to speak of that now.”