Page 52 of The Nature of a Lady
And it wasn’t just the Wights and the two gentlemen Lottie had mentioned laughing and tilting champagne flutes toward their mouths and milling around a makeshift dance floor. There were well over a dozen people crowding the small space, not counting the quartet or the uniformed servants.
She spun away. Forget trying to answer questions, she had no hope of that anyway. She’d go home. Tell Mabena and Oliver about the tall man who’d attacked her and—
“Beth!”
She froze when a hand landed on her sore shoulder, even though it was small and gentle. Turned.
A redhead stood there, laughter evaporating from her lips. “Oh. Sorry.NotBeth.”
Lottie giggled her way over to them, a nearly empty flute in handand its aftereffects bubbling in her eyes. “Em, Itoldyou I haven’t been able to find Beth. This ismyfriend. Libby. Lady Elizabeth, I mean. Sinclair. I told you about her, didn’t I? She left the Château the year before you arrived.”
“Sorry,” Em said again, offering Libby a sheepish smile. “I’ve just been expecting to run into Beth every time I turn around.”
Lottie laughed again, which made Libby wonder how many other empty flutes she’d already created, and tugged her into their little bower. “Come in, Libby, please. The viscount is dying to meet you. And this is Lady Emily Scofield. Did I mention her to you? I actually convinced her to come and spend a few days with us!”
“Well.” Lady Emily fell in on Lottie’s other side, gaze darting all about the party. “I’ve long wanted to visit, and I thought I could see two friends at once.”
Lottie leaned closer, eyes twinkling. “Her whole family came,” she said in what she probably meant to be a whisper. “Even herbrother.” That last word she sang in a ding-dong tune. “Wait until you meet him. So handsome. Nearly as handsome asyourbrother.” Eyes going wide, she giggled again. “No, wait. Maybe I don’t want you to meet him. You stick with the viscount; he’s too boring for the rest of us.”
Libby wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders, glad Mabena had thought to give it to her. She hadn’t realized they’d be outdoors all evening. Usually she would have enjoyed that unexpected boon, but all the people spoiled it.
Though she hadn’t at all minded the even-larger group watching the boat race on Wednesday morning. That had seemed entirely different.
She directed her gaze to Lady Emily. A friend of Beth’s, which seemed an odd coincidence to her. But then again, perhaps Beth always tried to lure her friends to the islands for the summer. “How long are you staying, my lady?”
“Oh, just until Monday.”
“I’m trying to convince them to come for longer a bit later in the summer. It would be so much more fun with a more diverse company,don’t you think, Libby? We’ve had no one but each other, Em. We’ll be bored out of our minds by July.” She produced a stage-worthy pout. “Please say you’ll come.”
Lady Emily didn’t look any more comfortable with the theatrics than Libby felt. “That’s my parents’ decision, Charlotte. All I can do is ask.”
“Oh, you can surely convince your father of anything. That’s what daughtersdo. Speaking of fathers—there’s mine with the viscount. Daddy!”
Mr. Wight acknowledged his daughter with an easy smile and a glass lifted in salute. And he apparently knew what it was she wanted, because he and the man at his side were soon coming their way.
Perhaps the events of the evening had already numbed her, because Libby’s stomach couldn’t muster so much as a single cramp at the approach of the viscount, even when his gaze swept over her before landing on her face and a smile graced his lips.
He looked vaguely familiar, the kind that came of seeing someone across a crowded ballroom but never being introduced. No doubt they had scores of common acquaintances, and Bram probably knew him well enough to say hello on the street. He may have been a bit older than her brother—or else just looked it due to his receding hairline.
He wasn’t a bad-looking man though, not that Libby made a study of the specimens on display each Season, like Lottie did. He was of average height, wore a well-cut jacket that she suspected hid a waist that was thicker than he wanted it to be, and had eyes that, at least, gleamed with intelligence. That was a nice change of pace.
“Lady Elizabeth, so glad you made it!” Mr. Wight boomed. A newcomer might assume it was in order to be heard over the instruments, but she’d met the man before. He boomedeverything. Perhaps in order to be heard over his daughter’s incessant chatter. “Allow me to make introductions! Lady Elizabeth Sinclair, sister of the Earl of Telford! Viscount Willsworth!”
She held out her hand, not regretting having worn the satin gloves that stretched over her wrist and then her elbow, all the way to herbicep. They gave her a bit of insulation between her hand and the stranger’s as he took her fingers and bowed over them.
“How do you do, my lady?”
“Very well, my lord. Thank you. And you?”
He straightened again with a warm smile. “My evening just brightened considerably. You’re the friend Miss Wight mentioned who is interested in botany? And biology?”
She nodded.
“I suspected as much.” His hand inexplicably lifted, hovered, and his brows raised to match. “Excuse me, you’ve...” He reached forward and plucked something off her arm.
A jasmine flower, snagged in the lacework of her shawl. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. She couldn’t exactly say she’d been shoved into the plant’s embrace, could she? “I saw aCestrum nocturnumon my walk here and stopped to investigate.”
He didn’t seem to find anything amiss in her explanation. He smiled and motioned to her head. Or her hair, specifically. “If I may?”
