Page 14 of The Truth about the Rogue
Andrew let himself smile, only to see the way that the other Miss Hawick turned her head away and murmured something to Miss Marshall, who then nodded fervently.
“And you?” Lord Glenfield asked, directing his attention directly towards Miss Marshall. “Might you have an opinion?”
“Oh, I do indeed,” Miss Marshall replied, her eyes bright as she smiled back at him. “I first of all thought that it was truly wonderful, only for my dear friend here to bring me a book of poetry which I have spent some time this afternoon reading. I am not about to state that the poem in The London Chronicle was poorly written, only to say that I now understand that there is a vast array of such works written and I am eager to read as many of them as I can. Some are written with such passion, I can barely breathe!”
“Truly?” Lady Margarete’s eyes flared, her interest evidently piqued. “I should very much like to read this book of poetry, if you would be so good as to share it with me? I confess that I have not read very much poetry, and I would very much like to do so.”
“I would be glad to share it,” Miss Marshall returned, making Andrew’s stomach clench. Lady Margarete had spoken with delight abouthiswork only a few moments ago and yet now, after hearing the recommendation from Miss Marshall – which had been influenced by Miss Hawick – she appeared to have almost forgotten it!
“I am quite certain that there will be another poem in The London Chronicle very soon,” he said, interrupting the conversation and having all eyes turn towards him. “Mayhap then we shall discover whether it be lady or gentleman whowrites it!” With a small nod, he made to take his leave, only for one of the young ladies to make a small exclamation.
“Lord Kentmore, were you not to dance with some of us?”
Andrew closed his eyes briefly, then forced a smile.
“Yes, of course. You are quite correct. I would be glad to take a dance from any of you.” Within a few seconds, Andrew found himself with five dance cards and, having already signed Miss Hayter’s, handed that one directly to Lord Glenfield. “How delightful,” he muttered, seeing his friend grin. “I am to have my entire evening taken up with dancing!”
The ladies giggled at this and, one at a time, Andrew passed the cards to Lord Glenfield who, thereafter, gave them back to the ladies.
“And what of you, Miss Marshall?”
Andrew looked at Lord Glenfield, surprised to hear him speak so directly to one young lady in particular.
“I see that neither yourself nor Miss Hawick have offered me your dance cards,” Lord Glenfield continued, his eyebrows lifting. “Might it be that you have no desire to dance? If it is, then I would find that a great pity given that everyone here is eager to do so!”
Miss Marshall and Miss Hawick shared a look and then, with a small smile, Miss Marshall slipped her dance card from her wrist.
“How very kind, Lord Glenfield. Yes, I should be glad to dance with you.”
Miss Hawick’s gaze steadied itself on Lord Glenfield though, for whatever reason, Andrew could not take his eyes from her.
“As should I,” she said, clearly, “though I am feeling a little fatigued this evening so I think only one dance will suffice.”
Andrew’s gut twisted and he grimaced, though quickly pulled that from his expression for fear that the other young ladies would see him do so. It was clear to him that Miss Hawick hadno interest in being in his company, and certainly had no desire to dance with him. Lord Glenfield recognized it too, handing the card back to Miss Hawick at once though he smiled as he did so, which irritated Andrew all the more.
“What a capital evening this shall be!” Lord Glenfield declared as Andrew, bowing his head, finally managed to take a step away from the ladies, detaching himself from them. “I look forward to dancing with each and every one of you.”
“As do I, of course.”
Andrew nodded, turned, and released a long breath, closing his eyes in relief at no longer having to be in Miss Hawick’s company.
“She does not like you in any way, does she?” Lord Glenfield laughed and slapped one hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Are you certain that she does not know that you are the one who wrote that poem?”
“Quite sure,” Andrew stated, firmly, sending a sharp look in his friend’s direction. “It seems that the impression she has of me is a very poor one.”
“Indeed. Clearly, she is not at all inclined towards rogues,” Lord Glenfield chuckled. “But that will not matter to you, since you have practically all of the ladies in society eager for your company! One lady disinterested cannot be a great concern, I am sure.”
Andrew took a long breath, set his shoulders, and nodded.
“Quite,” he agreed, firmly, telling himself that he was being ridiculous in allowing his frustrations about the young lady to rise once again.
“And you are going to write another poem for The London Chronicle, are you not?”
Resolve poured into Andrew’s veins.
“Do stop saying such things here, where someone might overhear! But yes, I certainly am. And this time, it shall be longerthan two verses,” he declared, making Lord Glenfield’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “And I shall make certain that there can be no question over whether it is a gentleman or a lady writing it.”
“I see.” Lord Glenfield chuckled quietly. “And which young lady shall be your muse this time?”
