Page 9 of Forgetting the Earl
How naive she’d been to think Tarrington had forgotten about the minor slight she’d dealt him. He would never forget. This entire evening, including Southwell’s pretended interest, had been nothing more than a heartless prank.
A silent scream echoed inside Honora, shattering every beautiful second of her time with Southwell.
Tarrington’s face, alight with glee, was clearly visible through the window. His fingers brushed against his eyes, wiping away the tears cascading down his cheeks from laughing so hard. At her. Southwell stood right next to him.
While Honora watched, Anabeth finally left her position at the window and sauntered over to Tarrington and Southwell. She neatly slid her hand into the crook of Southwell’s arm, shooting Honora a satisfied look.
The whispers grew louder on the terrace. Now Honora could make out each word.
“I couldn’t believe Southwell took Tarrington’s wager to dance with her, the most hideous girl here.”
“Good Lord, she looks like an overripe plum.”
“Did you see the way she closed her eyes? As if Southwell meant to steal a kiss from her?”
“Southwell’s won a hefty purse tonight.”
Honora turned toward the garden, clutching the balustrade, hearing the truth of her existence hovering in the air around her. The absolute cruelty of what had been visited upon her nearly brought her to her knees. None of it had been real. Just a joke. A trick played on a pathetically awkward young girl who’d had the misfortune to run afoul of Tarrington.
Southwell.
Tarrington she could understand; hehatedher. Even Anabeth she had expected would do something awful to her eventually.
He asked me about Sebek.
The kinship Honora had felt with him had been false. A ruse to lure her into dancing. Southwell had made her feel special for the first time in her life, and none of it had been real. It had been nothing more than a wager with Tarrington.
For all her intelligence, Honora was horribly, terribly stupid when it came to Southwell. A tear slid down her cheek, though she tried to stop it.
I will never forget what they’ve done to me.
Especially Southwell.
Not ever.
*
“You’re out ofsorts.” Tarrington grinned. “You should be thrilled at the size of the purse you’ve won. You should also thank me from rescuing you from the little piglet’s clutches. Good Lord, she was looking at you as if you were an entire tea tray, which I’m sure she can demolish all on her own. What a sow. The feigned interest in her was a nice touch.”
Gideon Lawrence, Earl of Southwell, looked up at Tarrington. How had he not realized, until now, how much he didn’t care for his former schoolmate? “What did you do?” He glanced out to the terrace, where a flutter of lavender skirts caught his eye. A group of women next to Miss Drevenport were not so discreetly pointing at her and laughing. “What the bloody hell did you do, Tarrington?”
“Don’t tell me you feel bad for the little twit? Come now, I only repaid her for embarrassing me. Stomping about with her deplorable hair and corpulent figure to dictate tomeon the location of Peru. An obscure country no one gives a fig about.” He flicked lint off his sleeve. “I lost the respect of Lady Raynelle Admonton over that little stunt.”
“You were destined to lose Lady Raynelle eventually on your own, Tarrington. My dance with Miss Drevenport was a private wager, not a way for you to exact punishment for some minor slight to your pride.” Gideon’s fists clenched at his thighs; he wished he was already on the ship taking him to Brazil. “Had I known what you had planned, I wouldn’t have agreed.”
Tarrington shrugged. “Please. You never could resist a wager.”
The wagers Gideon had accepted from Tarrington in the past had been outlandish but innocent. Determining the color of a lady’s petticoat, for instance. The Widow Helmsworth’s had been a dull cream color. Or wagering how long it would take Gideon to bed a new bride saddled with an elderly husband. Never anything cruel.
Lady Anabeth sidled up beside him, her fingers settling on his arm. “Did you not agree to dance with whichever unattractive young lady I brought to your side this evening?” She pouted.
“Yes, but—” It had seemed a harmless bet at the time. Anabeth considered nearly every other woman in London unattractive in comparison to herself. He’d assumed he’d be dancing with an elderly matron, perhaps. Or a lonely spinster grateful for a dance.
“Then why are you angry?” Lady Anabeth declared. “Tarrington suggested Miss Drevenport, and I agreed. She’s hideous. I probably would have chosen that self-righteous ball of stuffed satin without his encouragement. Her features are barely discernible amid all that pimply skin. The sheep on the farms of my father’s tenants possess better coiffures.”
“You used me,” Gideon said as self-loathing for his part in Tarrington’s scheme filled him.
“What of it? You accepted the wager and won a large sum of money. What you should be concerned about is the damage to your reputation for being seen with that little troll.” Tarrington gave a laugh as he smoothed down the ends of his mustache.
