Page 4 of Not his Marchioness
Rhys gave a half-smile. “I pay no mind to such trivialities. Though,” he added, “this is beginning to sound more and more amusing.”
Back at the center of the room, the young woman pressed on. “I will have you know that I have no intention of being sold off like a mare at the market. And certainly not to a man such as Lord Emery, who stands accused of many dreadful things.”
Gasps erupted anew.
She tilted her chin up. “Mark my words, I would rather die an ape leader than become the Countess of Emery.”
With that, she turned on her heel, retrieved her pelisse, flung it over her shoulder, and marched out of the room without another word, vanishing into one of the side corridors.
For a beat, the room was silent. Then, the buzz of renewed, fevered gossip began.
Gideon blinked. “Well…”
Rhys pushed off the wall and set down his empty glass. “Now that,” he drawled with a wide grin, “was worth the brandy. Pray, Gideon, who was that?” he asked, looking after the lady who had vanish through the far door as though she were the devil herself, freshly arrived from the underworld in a scarlet gown.
“Lady Charlotte Langley,” Gideon replied. “The second daughter of Lord Lowey.”
“Ah, Lowey. That’s right, her father made her sister marry that old coot, Harrington. And then he choked to death on… what was it? A date?”
“I heard it was an apricot kernel,” Gideon said. “But I think what actually killed him was the apoplexy.”
“I’d die apoplexy too, if I were married to that spitfire,” Rhys said with a low chuckle, though he was clearly impressed.
She had wanted a scandal—she was certainly going to get one. The white feather fans were already fluttering like startleddoves as whispers rippled through the room. Lady Swanson, their hostess for the evening, glanced around with something dangerously close to delight in her eyes.
“She’s always had a taste for the dramatic,” Gideon scoffed. “The more outrageous, the better. She’d hoped to be in the scandal sheets tomorrow—not for herself, mind, but for her event.”
“I daresay she will be,” Rhys muttered, just as an older woman, clearly flustered, hurried after Lady Charlotte.
He and Gideon turned toward the refreshments table to refill their glasses.
Two brandies, one Scotch, and one whiskey later, Rhys’s head no longer felt as clear as it had upon his arrival—which was just as well, considering he’d had to endure an hour of the most extraordinarily dreadful music he’d heard in his life.
During the intermission, he decided a bit of fresh air was in order. Leaving Gideon deep in conversation with his aunt, he slipped out into the garden.
The cold evening air revived him somewhat. For a townhouse, the garden was surprisingly refined, though modest in size. Within ten steps, he reached the far edge of it and sighed.
“I dare you…” a voice said beside him.
He turned sharply. There, illuminated by the moonlight, stood the unmistakable figure in the red dress. He didn’t recognize her face—how could he?—but the gown gave her away instantly. Her head was tilted up toward the sky, hands curled into tight fists.
“I dare you to send another challenge,” she whispered. “I will face it. I will. I will not end up like Evelyn. I won’t.”
“Does that usually work?” Rhys asked casually.
She rounded on him. Her hair had escaped from its pins and tumbled wildly around her shoulders, her eyes flashing in the moonlight.
“I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, though her tone suggested she wasn’t begging anything. It was the tone of someone saying,How dare you speak to me?
“I asked whether shouting at the heavens typically works.”
“I was not shouting at the heavens,” she retorted. “I was speaking to—” She waved her arm dramatically toward the sky. “The universal god, or fate, or whatever it is that sends us trials. And I fail to see how any of that is your concern.”
“It’s not,” he said, his voice even. “I merely thought it was interesting.You’reinteresting. That was the most fascinating entrance I’ve seen in quite some time.”
“Well, I’m glad you were entertained.”
“I assure you, I was not the only one. You’ll certainly be the talk of the ton by morning. But I imagine that was the goal, was it not?”
