Page 78 of Not his Marchioness
There was something about it. A certain independence, freedom, and yet she wished someone were with her. Someone with whom she could have intimate conversations, someone who knew her well.
No. Notsomeone.
She wished Rhys were with her.
She sighed deeply. She had just finished her second glass when heavy footfalls sounded to her left.
“And so we meet again,” a voice drawled.
She turned and instantly took several steps back when she recognized its owner.
“Lord Emery,” she sputtered.
“Lady Ravenscar.” He spoke her title in a tone that made it quite clear he was mocking her more than anything else. “And where is your illustrious husband? Nowhere to be seen, it seems.”
“He will be here,” she said. “He has simply been delayed by business. He is an extremely busy man.”
“I’ll say.” Lord Emery smirked. “I’m well familiar with his business in St. Giles. I dare say that we share a few business associates.” His tone was mocking still.
“I will have you know that my husband is meeting with the Duke of Windsor.”
“The Duke of Windsor? That is curious, for I thought I saw him here.” He paused, raised his index finger, and pointed to the orchestra pit. “Ah, yes, over yonder.”
Her stomach dropped. If Rhys wasn’t with the Duke of Windsor, then why wasn’t he here yet? And what was Lord Emery trying to tell her by mentioning St. Giles?
“Lord Emery, I do wish that you would leave me to my peace. It was unfortunate the way our paths crossed, and I shall not forgive my father anytime soon for how he attempted to force us together. However, I have chosen my own path, and trust that you will do the same. But I will make it clear that our paths will never converge, nor will we walk down any path together.”
Lord Emery raised his hands. “I beg your pardon, Lady Ravenscar. I did not mean to cast a shadow on your evening. I was merely wondering why a beautiful young woman is standing alone, that is all. As for our paths, I shall trust they will not converge again. My path and your husband’s, on the other hand… well, they often lead to the same houses of ill repute. Sometimes to the same rooms within, although never at the same time.”
He chuckled.
“You will stop speaking about my husband in such a way. He is a respected peer. He is completely reformed. He has not set foot in St. Giles in many, many months.”
Charlotte spoke the words with more conviction than she felt. And Lord Emery, the horrid brute that he was, only patted his chest.
“Is that so? I saw him not once but twice over the past two weeks. He didn’t tell you? No, I suppose he wouldn’t. Well, I suppose some wives prefer to be ignorant of their husbands’ activities. I do beg your pardon once more if I have ruined your night—or your perception of your husband’s pristine reputation.”
Charlotte stood there, her head buzzing from the wine and his words as Emery sipped his drink, a smirk on his lips
It couldn’t be true. Rhys told her he hadn’t been to St. Giles or any rookery. He had said it several times. He had no reason to lieto her. After all, up until last night, they had never even so much as kissed.
No. Lord Emery had to be lying. He had to.
But then she remembered the doubts that had gnawed at her over the past days, and the small voice in the back of her head grew louder.
What if Emery was telling the truth?
CHAPTER 30
Rhys stumbled into the ballroom frightfully late. He looked around for Charlotte and spotted her almost at once. But what he saw made the blood in his veins run cold.
Emery was standing with her. He towered over her by at least a head, bent slightly so that his posture appeared hunched, and whispered something to her. Rhys could not hear the words, but he was certain they could not be anything good.
Charlotte looked up at the man. It was difficult to tell whether she was pale because of the crushed pearl powder she wore. Yet her stance—her shoulders rolled back slightly, her head bent at an angle as she listened, her lips parted in surprise—told him it could not be well.
What in heaven’s name was Emery doing? What was he saying to her?
Rhys’s legs propelled him across the room with all the haste of a soldier lunging at the enemy. He heard his name as people greeted him; gentlemen bowed, ladies curtsied. He acknowledged them with a quick bob of the head, unwilling to waste a moment.
