Page 52 of My Wicked Earl
“A pleasure, Lord Kilmaire.”
“Miss Lainscott, how did you find your journey to Gray Covington?” Cam favored her with a kind nod of his head though he clutched his wineglass so tightly Colin feared the slender stem would snap and Cam might stab Lady Dobson with the shard.
Before the girl could reply, Lady Dobson answered, momentarily forgetting Cam’s frostiness towards her. “Tolerable, Lord Cambourne. Our coachman did not take great care on the road and I feared we would be jostled senseless before arriving. There is a large rut as you turn up the drive to Gray Covington. Jarring, my lord. You must send one of your servants to fill it immediately.”
Cam’s lips tightened. “I was speaking to Miss Lainscott.”
Lady Dobson stiffened and her mouth gaped open slightly like a fish that had suddenly found itself in a fisherman’s net. She quickly regained her composure, pillar of society that she was, though she likely hadn’t ever been cut so directly.
A flicker of amusement lit Miss Lainscott’s eyes at her aunt’s discomfort, though she quickly hid it. “I found the countryside beautiful, my lord. It is such a pleasant change from London. And this room,” her eyes swung around to the tapestries lining the walls,“is a work of art. I do adore Greek mythology.”
“She reads overmuch, I fear,” Lady Dobson said, inserting herself. “Margaret, Lord Kilmaire and Lord Cambourne have no desire to listen to your opinion on art.”
Harpy.
“Then it appears we have much in common, Miss Lainscott.” Colin pretended not to hear Lady Dobson and resisted the urge to swat at her as if she were a large, turbaned, housefly. “I adore Greek mythology as well.”
“As do I.” Cam uttered over his glass of wine, his gaze skewering Lady Dobson. “Should you decide to readovermuchwhile at Gray Covington, Miss Lainscott, I insist that you take advantage of the library. My father’s collection of Greek myths is fairly extensive. I believe there is also an entire shelf on Norse mythology as well. If you would care to expand your knowledge in such things.”
Lady Dobson’s smile faded. It was evident she was struggling to maintain her polite façade. Clearly, the Marquess of Cambourne’s dislike towards her was returned in spades. Lady Dobson might be the only woman in all of England who did not find the Marquess of Cambourne appealing.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Cam set his empty wine glass down on a nearby table. “I believe I have not greeted Lord Hamill properly.” He dipped slightly, and the small piece of jade slid through his hair.
“Well.” Lady Dobson snapped out her fan. Her eyes were riveted on Cam’s earring and she muttered something under her breath. Turning back to her niece and Colin, a sly smile crossed her thin lips. “Margaret, Lady Cambourne begs my attention for a moment. Admire the tapestry and try not to bore Lord Kilmaire until I return.”
Lady Dobson spun off, her skirts nearly swallowing up her meager form as she made her way to the Dowager, leaving her niece with Colin.
A sound of relief escaped Miss Lainscott at her aunt’s departure. Her eyes widened, and one gloved hand covered her mouth in mortification.
Colin liked her all the more for it.
“You may breathe freely now. At least until your aunt returns. I’ll test your knowledge, Miss Lainscott. What event does the tapestry before us depict?”
“The birth of Athena,” she answered without hesitation. “Born fully formed from the head of Zeus.” Stepping closer, the tips of her fingers reached out with hesitation.
“Go on, Miss Lainscott. I shan’t tell.”
Her lips turned up at the corners as she traced the outline of Athena’s sandaled foot.
A melodic laugh sounded on the other side of the room drawing Colin’s attention.
Miranda.
She was greeting Lord Hamill, and her brother. He could see the animation on her beautiful face from where he stood. She wore a gauzy creation of sea-bottle green edged in black piping, that floated over her generous curves. Jet hung from her ears, swaying as she spoke. She looked luscious and warm, like a summer’s day.
“Lord Kilmaire?”
Miss Lainscott’s gaze fell on Miranda.
“Lady Miranda is very lovely.” Miss Lainscott said. “And she’s very well versed in ancient history. I’ve had many spirited discussions with her on the building of the pyramids and their purpose.” Her brow wrinkled. “Oddly enough, she knows quite a bit about the process of embalming and mummification.”
“I didn’t realize you were acquainted.” His eyes never left Miranda. She sparkled like a rare gem from across the room.
Lord Hamill certainly took notice as he was entirely too close to her.
“I was introduced to Lady Miranda at Lady Marr’s fete a fortnight ago. She’s incredibly well read. There are several lectures at the Royal Museum she’s invited me to attend. I believe Lord Cambourne is speaking at one. It’s a recounting of an expedition through India.”
“Yes, he visited there once. But Egypt is her passion.” Colin frowned, watching as Ridley strode over and took Miranda’s elbow. “She has always adored ancient Egypt. Mummies. Pyramids.” He could still see Miranda walking with him as they strolled through the park. She was regaling him with some horrible description of a death ritual practiced by Ramses’s priests, when the breeze blew her bonnet off. The bonnet retreated out of his grasp, over and over, as if some invisible hand pulled it away from him. He’d finally resorted to pouncing on it, battering the poor bonnet and tearing off the ribbon. Instead of being angry at the destruction of her hat, Miranda had laughed in delight.
