Page 64 of Thief of the Ton
Aunt Edna leaned over and hissed in Lavinia’s ear.
“That wasn’t very civil, child.”
“What—accepting Lord Marlow’s invitation to dance?”
“No—refusing Mr. Moss’s invitation.”
“Can’t I dance with whom I like?”
“You must observe propriety,” Aunt Edna said. “If a young woman refuses an offer to dance from a gentleman, she’s honor bound to refuse offers from others.”
“Why?”
“Heavens, girl!” Aunt Edna cried. “You never listen to a thing I say. A refusal to dance would be taken as a direct cut, were you subsequently to accept the hand of another. Mr. Moss has every right to feel aggrieved.”
“I was polite in my refusal.”
“That’s of no consequence. You’ve shown Mr. Moss that you have a marked preference for another, instead of merely being disinclined to dance.”
“I fail to see anything wrong in refusing to dance with a man I dislike,” Lavinia said. “Why should I be honor bound to dance merely because I was unfortunate enough to havehimbe the first to ask me?”
Before Aunt Edna could respond, Lord Marlow returned, hand outstretched. Lavinia rose, and he led her toward the center of the room where the couples had lined up. On the way, they passed Moss holding a cup of coffee. He scowled, his eyes darkening, and a shiver rippled across Lavinia’s skin at the dislike in his expression. Then he approached Aunt Edna, flashing a smile, and presented her with her coffee.
The dancing began, and Lavinia resumed her attention on her partner. The melody was barely discernible, obscured by discordant notes that jarred the senses.
“Lady Hythe’s talents for music are to be commended,” Lavinia said, fighting the urge to giggle.
Her partner arched an eyebrow. “I think, perhaps, the melody would be a little easier on the ear if her lapdog were at the pianoforte instead. As a rule, ladies are accomplished, able to bring forth the most melodious of tunes from an instrument. I’m afraid, however, that Lady Hythe is the exception to that rule.”
“All ladies?” Lavinia asked.
“Is that not what ladies occupy themselves with—music and needlework?”
“Surely you cannot believe that!” she cried. “Why can’t a woman distinguish herself as a man does?”
He let out a laugh. “Have I pricked your pride, Miss de Grande? Do you think the gentlemen in the company tonight have distinguished themselves?”
“Most likely not,” she said, “but they’ve been provided with opportunities that a woman can only dream of—even if they choose to squander those opportunities languishing in luxury while others see to their estates.”
“Careful, Miss de Grande—you’re dangerously close to demonstrating advocacy for the common man.”
“Thecommon man, by your definition, is one who earns his living.”
“And I salute him, for he enjoys freedoms that a titled gentleman can only dream of.”
“A titled gentleman has more freedom than anyone else, Lord Marlow.”
“I must beg to disagree,” he replied. “A commoner has no obligations to maintain an estate that he is responsible for merely due to his birth. Nor is he burdened by duty to furnish the title with an heir.”
She let out a snort. “Hardly a duty when he has the pick of the debutantes and their dowries.”
“Take care, Miss de Grande,” he said. “I would not have you melancholy when I’ve been looking forward, all day, to dancing with you.”
He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, and a ripple of need caressed her skin. Then they were separated from the dance, and she found herself partnered with Lord Hythe for the next few steps.
Yellow-eyed, wheezing, and with a brittle, bent frame, he hardly looked the embodiment of villainy. Yet he was one of the men who’d conspired to ruin Papa.
He flinched as another discordant note rang out, and Lavinia smiled to herself. Perhaps the Almighty had punished him for his role in Papa’s downfall by giving him his wife.
