Page 51 of My Wicked Earl
Beside him, Cam tensed, eyes narrowed with dislike. “I was so hoping he wouldn’t be able to find his way down here until we’d already begun the soup course. The frontrunner for my sister’s hand. Lord Edwin Ridley.”
Colin’s hackles rose immediately as he took in the viscount.
Lord Ridley was tall and slender, his dark evening clothes perfectly tailored to fit his lean form. The only distraction was his waistcoat. The garment was a mélange of colors, a crazy patchwork of blue and green shot through with gold thread. A mop of carefully teased curls hung about his face.
Christ,I can smell his pomade even from this distance.
“Just seeing Ridley makes me reconsider my earlier assessment of Carstairs. Perhaps Carstairs is only pretending to have the intelligence of a potted plant. He’s hiding his brilliance for some reason and will reveal himself at an opportune moment.”
“A bit colorful, isn’t he?” What an utter fop Ridley was. How could Miranda consider such a man? The wine soured in his mouth just watching Ridley prance across the room.
“Carstairs a dandy?” Cam’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, you meanRidley. Yes. I’m told he spends more on his clothing than a girl in her first Season. I was hopeful that Ridley would lose interest in my sister, but he seems to have renewed his suit in the last few months. I still have hope that Miranda will come to her senses. I almost prefer Hamill.” A pained look crossed Cam’s face. “Actually, I’d rather she remain a spinster than make a foolish choice.”
Colin agreed. He didn’t care for either of Miranda’s suitors. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Again, he wished to ask about theincident, but now wasn’t the best time.
“Perhaps my sister will listen to you?”
Colin choked on his wine. “Sorry,” he covered his shock at his friend’s suggestion, “you know I don’t care for wine. Why,” he passed his glass to a waiting servant, “would you think Miranda would listen to me?” Cam reallydidn’tknow, as impossible as that seemed.
“She may listen to you. Her ‘prince’ from childhood.”
The casual remark caused his heart to contract.
“I’ll speak to her if you wish.” Colin ceded. “But, Cam. You need to tell me what happened. To Miranda.”
Cam turned away, either not hearing Colin or choosing to ignore the question. “Ah, there’s Miss Lainscott and her aunt, the esteemed Lady Dobson.” He couldn’t keep the distaste from his words. “Alex speaks very highly of Miss Lainscott.”
Lady Agnes Dobson, so spare of form with sharp angles that one was reminded of a praying mantis, strode forward towing behind her a slight young woman. Miss Margaret Lainscott was unremarkable in every way, from the color of her hair to the pale blush of her gown. Ordinary, except for the directness of her gaze and the sheen of intelligence in her eyes.
Lady Dobson tugged her niece forward, looking as if she would toss the poor girl at Colin.
Miss Lainscott’s eyes flashed with rebellion and irritation before she lowered them demurely.
Colin liked her immediately.
“Lord Cambourne, Lord Kilmaire.” Lady Dobson and Miss Lainscott dipped in unison.
“Lady Dobson.” Cam did not bother to take Lady Dobson’s hand, ignoring it in favor of Miss Lainscott’s. “May I present my friend, the Earl of Kilmaire.”
The snub was not lost on Lady Dobson. The large ostrich feather atop her turban quivered a bit, though her voice showed no hint of nervousness at being in the presence of the Marquess of Cambourne. Determination gleamed from her pale eyes as she turned to Colin.
“Lord Kilmaire.” Lady Dobson extended a boney, gloved hand, the stark white of her gloves giving the impression it was a skeleton’s hand he bent over.
Thin to the point of emaciation, Lady Dobson’s elegant silk gown hung from her meager figure, as there seemed no flesh to cling to. Everything about the woman was sharp and cutting, from the way she walked to the unseemly way she was moving Miss Lainscott closer to Colin’s side. Her beady eyes took in Colin, lingering over the scar on his face before dazzling him with a false smile meant to hide her disgust at his disfigurement. After all, an earl, even one as flawed as Colin, would be more than suitable for her niece, a niece that she was quite desperate to get rid of.
The lady would make an excellent villain in a Lord Thurston novel.
“Lady Dobson, a delight.” It wasn’t.
Sniffing in acknowledgement of the compliment, she nodded her head in agreement. The feather in her turban bobbed, strands of it floating about her head like a feathery mist.
“My niece, Miss Margaret Lainscott.” A spindly hand lay on Miss Lainscott’s shoulder. “She is the daughter of my late sister and her husband.” She propelled Margaret closer to Colin as if the girl were a sacrificial virgin.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lainscott.”
“My lord.” Miss Lainscott curtsied, her voice so soft Colin strained to hear it. Now that she was closer, he could see the tiny spray of freckles dotting her nose. Eyes, dark and velvety like those of a doe, looked up at him.
Colin watched as Lady Dobson jabbed a finger in Margaret’s back.
