Page 26 of To Catch a Viscount

She narrowed her eyes. “Didtheysend you?”

Theyas in her parents and his family members.

“Here or to the ball?”

“Either.”

“The latter,” he allowed with an honesty that made her lips twitch, the most she’d managed to smile in so many days now. “But I’ve come here”—Andrew pointed down at the floor—“of my own volition.” His gaze slid to her bottle of champagne, and she followed his stare.

Marcia winged an eyebrow up. “Looking for any spirits?”

He grinned. “Indeed.”

“You’ll find plenty of champagne in the actual ball.”Please, just go. She didn’t want any more company. Not even jovial, affable Andrew Barrett.

Andrew who’d gone uncharacteristically solemn. He swept a hand towards the floor and asked again, “May I?”

Marcia shrugged and went back to watching the dancing flames.

The last thing she wished for was company.

Anyone’s company.

Alas, he settled onto the floor beside her. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he looped his arms around them. “Hiding?”

“Avoiding the crowd,” she amended.

“Not that I can blame you,” he muttered, and she stiffened. “I’m doing the same.”

He was…?

And then it occurred to her. Marcia whipped her gaze over to find his trained contemplatively on the fireplace. He wasn’t speaking about the scandal surrounding her name and her wedding day. He was merely speaking about avoiding the crush of guests.

Except…

It wasn’t at all the same.

“Charles broke it off with me,” she said. It was the first time she’dspokenthat truth aloud.

“Yes, I heard the news. If I had a glass, I’d toast you.” He looked pointedly at the flute she held.

Ignoring that unspoken request, Marcia wrinkled her brow. “Toast me?”

“For avoiding being leg-shackled to that one.” He scoffed. “That prig would have made you miserable. I’d say the misery of a little scandal is a small price to pay to avoid a lifetime of misery.” With that, he picked up the bottle of champagne, lifted it as if in a little toast, touching the edge of the bottle to her glass.

Crystal clinked against glass.

She stared bemusedly as Andrew proceeded to drink from the bottle.

But then she frowned when he continued drinking. “Hey now,” she scolded. “Do save some.” Reaching over, she grabbed her libations back.

He frowned as well. “Hey now, indeed.”

Marcia refilled her glass. “And I don’t need you attempting to make me feel better,” she muttered and then began to recite every last word she’d had thrown her way by pitying family members and friends: “‘He wouldn’t have made you happy.’”

“Oh, that is a certainty,” he said, helping himself once more to her bottle.

“‘There was always something off about him.’”

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