The Irish Upstart
“Whatever he thought, it didn’t matter. The girl was seeking a good match, as was every girl, so who could blame her. Face it, he was not a good match and never would be. For the first time in his life, he felt a deep resentment he’d been born a second son. If only he were Montague. He knew that if he were, he would lay his wealth and title at the feet of Miss Evleen O’Fallon.
Thomas went to the window, assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness as he gazed at the gardens below.
He was not Montague, he was a lovesick fool, and it was time to return to Tanglewood Hall and see to his horses. Why wait? He would leave today, as soon as he said his farewells.
Downstairs, he encountered Penelope at the breakfast table, just finishing eggs and ham, and in a fine mood. “Good morning, Thomas,” she said, beaming at him. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”
“I most decidedly did not,” he grumpily replied.
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