Page 30 of An Amiable Foe
Mr. Wilmot shrugged. “Let them laugh. What are they to you?”
He leaned in more closely than made her comfortable and murmured, “Gentlemen are not staring at your gown. Trust me.” He glanced down at her neck in a way that caused heat to race up her spine and radiate from her cheeks. “Don’t give a thought to what those cats say.”
He left, and Marianne stared at his back, her eyes naturally seeking those of Mr. Osborne’s until she wished they hadn’t. He was glowering at her again.
Her mother’s slippers had begun to come loose, and Marianne needed to make her way to the retiring room to tie them back up again. She shuffled forward quickly, now alarmed because the silk ties that held her slipper in place were sliding down her leg so that she could only keep the slipper on her foot by arching her toe upward.
With the door to the retiring room in sight, she teetered forward, crossing Mr. Osborne’s path with Miss Belford at his side. Just when she felt the eyes of the room on her, Marianne stepped on the front of her gown and began to fall.
She tried to catch herself, her arms flying in circles, but her sleeves were too tight for such movement. She fell flat on the ground with her hands first, and then elbows and knees, smacking the floor with such force it brought tears to her eyes. The sound of giggling reached her, and at the same time she felt a hand on her arm.
“Allow me to assist you, Miss Edgewood. You’ve had an unfortunate fall.”
Mr. Osborne stated the obvious, but she could not tell if he meant to come to her aid out of consideration for her or perform what any gentleman would view as his most fundamental duty. She knew only that he was highly displeased with her, because she had never seen him look so unapproachable.
If embarrassment could melt a person, she was the tail end of a tallow candle that had burnt itself out. Her knees and hands stung, but that was no match for her injured pride. She gave a swift curtsy and shuffled the rest of the way to the retiring room, her slipper clutched in one hand and her stockinged foot mercifully hidden by her overly long hem. She might fix her slipper, but she would never repair her mortification.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Perry watched Miss Edgewood’s disastrous foray into society with dismay. It should have frightened him away—he who had spent his entire life on the outskirts of the ton, attempting to find his place in it, endeavoring to be worthy of the regard of first his titled uncle, and then his friends, who were superior in social standing. He had worked hard so that he would not stand out in any way. His mission was to be so exemplary as to remain unnoticed. That was the best one could hope for amid the fickle ton. It took someone of a much higher social standing, or someone with a stronger stomach than he, to handle sudden disapproval. Society could turn on a man like the tide.
He should have wanted to run from Miss Edgewood for fear that she would drag him down with her into the social abyss. After all, what was that floppy scrap of gold lace in her hair? What was that dress that even he could tell was years out of fashion, and loose besides?
Her dancing was unexceptional, which was a boon, but that spectacular fall in front of him and the queen of local society—Miss Belford—who, for some mysterious reason, seemed to seek his attention out of all his friends? That fall was an unmitigated disaster. Miss Belford did not laugh outright. Such a thing would have been beneath her. But her tightly controlled expression and lifted brows showed her thoughts clearly enough. He should want to run from all claims of connection to Miss Edgewood.
What was inexplicable was that…he did not. He did not wish to run from the vulnerable, exposed, and defenseless Marianne Edgewood.
Instead, he helped her to her feet, feeling the heat of her embarrassment through the long sleeves that hung flat on her arms. He murmured something—he could not say what—then released her so she might take refuge in the retiring room. He wasn’t sure whether she would have the courage to make a reentrance after that, but he would keep his promise to dance with her. This was how she could hold her chin up high in society.
Perry excused himself from Miss Belford, allowing Lorry to take the prime spot in his stead. Instead, she turned to Raife and centered her attention on him. Perry wasn’t surprised. Women and men alike seemed drawn to Raife’s cool manner—men wishing to ape him, and women, to conquer him. Perry shoved that mystery out of his mind as he went outdoors to get air.
The front of the oast house was no longer teeming with people and carriages, but a few grooms who were clustered in various groups in the cool night air, looked up at his appearance. When they saw their services would not be required, they turned back to their cards and conversation. Perry walked a ways, struck by scenery different from London, Oxford, or Harlow, where he had grown up. It brought home to him like nothing else that he was now the owner of an estate in Kent, and that this was his new social scene should he decide to take up residence here instead of renting the castle out.
After all, he had already begun to work on the necessary repairs to make the place habitable. And there were plenty of projects such as the smithy and the apiary to bring income to Brindale again. The idea that he remain for a much longer duration to oversee these projects was no longer unthinkable. Miss Edgewood’s affection for the place was making an impression on him.
Mariannewas making an impression on him. He was always aware of her presence in a way he was not with other women, and he could not say why that was. She certainly had little to recommend her apart from her beauty, and would not elevate his social standing in any way. On the contrary, she would likely lower it.
As to character, she was, at times, as timid as a mouse and, at others, fiery in a way that would leave him with little peace. But the attraction was there—a physical pull he could not deny. She had lips he could imagine—had imagined—kissing. And her need for protection called up every male instinct in him to be the one to shield her. The day they drove on the cart together, when she was squeezed between him and Lorry, he was conscious of each time their legs or arms touched. He began to anticipate when the carriage would throw them together. And he couldn’t help but think she was moving closer to him than she was to Lorry.
But what obsession was this? Perry came to a sudden standstill, his breath making a light cloud in his exhale. It was a cold spring night, and the sky was filled with stars twinkling in the black sky.
Was attraction a force that so abandoned reason? Because there was absolutely nothing linked to reason that could explain what was quickly beginning to consume him—that he could not stop thinking about a woman who was everything contrary to what he had always wanted. It was truly as though Cupid had a wicked sense of humor and had aimed at him when he was near Miss Edgewood, skewering them both with one shot. At least…he hoped she had been struck as well and that some of his feelings were returned.
That was all the reason he would get, he feared. He should turn away now, but that was the vexatious thing about having a heart that beat for another: he did not wish to.
Perry headed back toward the oast house. He must be there when she exited from the retiring room, and he must remind her of their engagement to dance. It would be the best thing for her, he decided, to dance again after her fall. To allow her color to return to normal and to blend back into the crowd. He quickened his steps in case he might have dallied too long outdoors and left her to fend for herself inside. Marianne would not find herself friendless if he had any say in it.
His reentry into the hall went unnoticed, and he found that he had been right. Marianne was back in full view, but she was speaking to Vernon. When he studied her face, she did not appear to be happy with what Vernon was saying. Perry didn’t care if another gentleman had claimed her attention. He would go rescue her. After all, he had promised her a dance.
He took two steps forward before he saw her frown meant for Vernon lighten, then turn into a full smile when Lorry—who had grown weary of not being Miss Belford’s favorite—came over to join her. Perry hastened his steps before Lorry could cut him out.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. Marianne, I believe this dance is promised to me.” Perry had not specified for which dance he had requested her hand, but she had already danced with Vernon, and Lorry could very well wait. He saw the eyebrows of all three raise, and only then realized his gaffe.
“Miss Edgewood, I mean to say.”
The strains of a minuet filled the hall, and Marianne hesitated before setting her hand on his arm. Victorious at having snatched her away, he bowed to his friend and Vernon.
“Mr. Osborne,” she whispered as they walked to the floor, tugging at his arm to bring him closer. “I am not certain I am able to dance this. I know only the country steps.”
