“Our goal was to see you happy and well cared for. I’ve no doubt he could provide you with the sort of life Mum wished for you, but will he make you happy?”

Perhaps if she didn’t find herself constantly comparing him to Matthew, if she could relegate Matthew to little more than a youthful passion. Their paths would never cross. She wouldn’t have constant reminders of how he’d made her laugh, comforted her, helped her to believe in herself again. She would have to forget him and all they’d shared. “We’re each responsible for our own happiness, aren’t we, Mick?”

It would make her happy to please her family, to ensure that all the advantages they’d given her had not been for naught. If she didn’t marry Beresford, her Season would be done along with their dreams for her. Even now she knew tittering was going on regarding her morals, and her suitability as a wife was being questioned. She imagined a good many of the matrons viewed her as being no better than Lottie. They certainly wouldn’t allow one of their sons to wed her if she turned Beresford away.

“At least he knows you well enough to have discerned you have no resistance when it comes to books.”

She almost smiled at the truth—and irony—of her brother’s words. It was her love of books that would now guarantee she wouldn’t marry for love. Although perhaps in time, affection could develop between them.

“You seemed to get along well enough when he visited,” Aslyn said softly, encouragingly.

“He reads, so that’s a point in his favor. I’ve enjoyed our conversations.” Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he possessed a deceptive streak. Had he planned for them to get caught? Was he in need of her dowry? Or had he been as taken aback as she when Mick had walked into the room, as horrified as she when she realized they had an audience? “What more do you know of him?”

“He comes from a good family. He’s never been associated with scandal until tonight. I’ve always found him pleasant, good company, polite.”

“I could say the same of Dickens.” Except for the polite part, she supposed. He had attacked Matthew when he’d first gotten a tad too amorous. Yet she’d yearned for his attentions, had wanted all he’d been offering and more. She couldn’t say the same of Beresford.

How the deuce had she managed to win the earl over when she’d waltzed with him three times and he’d called on her only once? Upon what did he base his feelings?

The remainder of the journey was spent in silence, which gave her a good deal of time to reflect on her future and what it would entail. And what it wouldn’t.