Page 31 of Thief of the Ton
“I would see the villainous Phoenix brought to justice.”
Lord Francis stood beside the demigod. Both men bowed as she approached them. After introducing Aunt Edna, Lady Foxwell gestured toward Lavinia.
“Miss de Grande—Lord and Lady Francis you know, of course. This is Lord Peregrine Marlow.”
The demigod offered his hand, and Lavinia’s breath caught in her throat. Her body willed her to take the hand, but her mind was in a turmoil.
Aunt Edna gave her a sharp nudge.
Lavinia reached forward, and her stomach somersaulted as long, lean fingers encased her hand in a powerful grip.
“L-Lord Marlow,” she whispered. “A…a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”
At first glance, he had been handsome. But at close quarters, he was nothing short of breathtaking. His eyes, laden with promise, were a warm, rich brown, with shades of green and gold that shimmered in the candlelight, offering the promise of wicked pleasure.
Stop it, you fool!
She withdrew her hand, and for a moment, hurt flickered in his eyes. Then she shook her head.
She must have imagined it. He was an expert seducer—a man capable of using her innermost desires to tempt her into sin.
But how exquisite the sinning would be!
Lady Francis broke the spell. “Lady Edna, what a pleasure to see you again!” She wrinkled her nose at Lavinia. “And your charming niece, of course, who regaled us all with her eccentricities last month.”
“Lady Francis, a pleasure, as always,” Aunt Edna replied.
“Are you being treated to a London Season, my dear?” Lady Francis asked Lavinia with a slight sneer on her lips. “Your cousin Earl Yates is a most generous man, is he not? How fortunate it must be to have charitable relatives.”
“Thank you, Lady Francis,” Lavinia said. “You’re as generous as Lady Irma Fairchild in your compliments. I find myself disposed to like you just as much as I like her.”
She heard a suppressed snort. The demigod lifted his hand to his mouth, then cleared his throat. “Forgive me, ladies,” he said. “This coffee is overly sweet for my taste.”
His eyes sparkled as he glanced toward Lavinia, and she found herself smiling in return.
Heavens—what kind of a man was he? His wicked sense of humor was enough to befuddle her, let alone what his very maleness was doing to her body.
“Miss de Grande,” he said. “You have not yet been furnished with coffee. Might I pour you a cup? I assure you it’s palatable if taken without sugar.” He offered his arm, and, acting on instinct, she took it. Then he steered her toward the table where a footman stood to attention beside a large silver coffee pot and a tray of sweetmeats, fashioned into the shape of flowers, in colors that could only be described aseye-watering.
“Marzipan.” He plucked a piece from the pile and popped it into his mouth. “A little on the sweet side, but you can, at least, taste the almonds—unlike that sorbet, where I’m afraid the poor strawberry had succumbed to the assault of the sugar well before it had reached the table.”
He gestured toward the tray. “Permit me to select one for you. You can be assured that it’s safe, now I’ve survived.”
Lavinia couldn’t help smiling. “You took the risk, on my behalf, that it would poison you?”
“If you like.”
“What if it had been disgusting?” she asked. “Would you have swallowed it to maintain the appearance of civility, or spat it out?”
“What would you have me do?”
“Aunt Edna says that if a lady inadvertently eats something unpalatable, she must swallow it to maintain her poise,” she replied. “In extreme circumstances, she may expel the offending item into her handkerchief, provided the rest of the company believes her to be merely dabbing her mouth, or suppressing a cough.”
“Does it work?”
“Most of the time.” She grinned at the memory. “Though when Aunt discovered an abundance of salt in her custard last night, she almost failed in her endeavors.”
