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Already he missed the city, with its fine wines, its good restaurants, tall buildings, and excitement. Cape May was nothing more than a sleepy shore town, bereft of anything but cottages and debutantes. He and his friends, the dashing socialites of the city, avoided the place like the plague. He’d had no time for young, inexperienced girls who wanted to be gently courted with poetry and nosegays. The debutantes bored him to death, the spoiled daughters of rich men who had never taken the time to develop character. He’d spent his childhood with them, gone to school with them, met them at teas and parties. He found their company oddly unfulfilling and didn’t have the slightest idea why.
    And now he had to marry one. He knew he’d have to someday; it was inevitable. A man of his position in society was expected to marry, and to a woman of the same standing. Aunt Eunice was right. It was his only choice, and this was the ideal place to find a wife.
    But he didn’t have to like it.

T HREE
     
    “ G od, how I despise these things.” Christopher swallowed his brandy in one smooth gulp while his companion chuckled.
    “Come now, the party isn’t that bad.” Charles Pepper grinned, indicating the young people gathering around the piano. “I see one or two girls worth making the acquaintance of, and the dinner was well done. You’re making it intolerable.”
    “No, but it’s about to get there now,” Christopher said dryly as an elderly matron approached, obviously seeing them as prime candidates for her unwed daughters. Christopher winced. He had been relieved to find that an old college friend was in town on the same mission, and that he would have some tolerable company during his search for an eligible wife. Handsome and kind, Charles had no trouble attracting females, and made Christopher’s job that much easier. Still, Charles couldn’t make up for the hell he’d been through in the past week.
    They were guests at the Drexels’ that evening for a dinner party. Since he’d arrived at Cape May, Christopher had been to several dinners and balls just like this one, paying court to the young ladies in hopes of finding one who didn’t have him yawning by ten-thirty. So far he’d been dismally unsuccessful, but word had gotten out that he, Christopher Scott of the Philadelphia Scotts, was available. Every mother with marriageable daughters found him with all the accuracy of a homing pigeon. Holding his brandy glass as if for protection, he forced a smile as the woman cornered him.
    “Mr. Scott and Mr. Pepper.” Mrs. Mitchell inclined her head as the two young men acknowledged her presence. She gave them a warm smile, then glanced innocently toward the young women. “Have you met everyone here? I know at dinner, conversation is sometimes difficult.”
    “I believe we have,” Charles answered immediately. “They are all charming, especially your daughters. Mary and Nellie, I believe?”
    “Why, yes,” Mrs. Mitchell said, simpering and turning her attention to Christopher. “Did I mention that Mary is accomplished on the piano? And that Nellie can sing very sweetly?”
    “Yes, you did. Several times at dinner,” Christopher said bluntly, ignoring Charles’s soft cough. “I am sure your daughters are very talented,” he amended, catching the sharp look Charles gave him.
    “They are that,” Mrs. Mitchell said, beaming. “I suppose you’d like to dance with one of them later. Might I ask which one you favor?”
    Seeing the look on Christopher’s face, Charles interrupted gallantly. “How can he possibly choose, Mrs. Mitchell? They are both lovely and skillful.”
    Mrs. Mitchell grinned at him, then gave Christopher a less-than-kind glance. “I do hope you both plan to come to our reception next week. I know the girls are counting on it.”
    “I will attend with the same eagerness that brought me here tonight,” Christopher responded. He saw Charles cough again, hiding his laughter, then his