Page 63 of Oddity of the Ton
“What the bloody hell are you saying, Marlow?” he cried. A number of heads turned to stare at him, and he lowered his voice. “You think I’ve offered to Miss Howard out ofpity? Don’t you know how insulting that is?”
“I’ve no intention of insulting you, Whitcombe—I think it’s a kind thing to—”
“I meant insulting to Miss Howard! You think her incapable of attracting a genuine offer of marriage?”
Monty winced as his conscience pricked at his hypocrisy.
“Believe me, Marlow,” he said. “What I feel for Miss Howard has nothing to do withpity.”
Marlow’s eyes widened. “I meant no offense. Forgive me—I hadn’t realized.”
“Realized what—that I’m not a heartless cad?” Monty asked.
“It’s a reputation on which you’ve thrived before.”
In that, Marlow was right. But that reputation was losing its appeal—at least where Miss Howard was concerned.
“Your water, Your Grace,” a male voice said.
The footman appeared, brandishing a glass of water on a silver salver.
“Shall I take this to Miss Howard, sir?”
“I’ll hand it to her myself.”
Monty took the glass, then threaded his way through the crowd, which seemed to have swelled in numbers and noise. Before he reached his destination, the musicians struck up a lively tune, and a cheer rose as couples filled the dance floor, forming a cacophony of bright colors.
A reminder, if ever he needed it, of why he disliked parties. So much chatter, yet not a single one of them had anything of worth to say.
And those bright silks! Why had he never noticed before that such a cacophony of color could bring on a megrim?
Whereas Miss Howard, in her gown of muted green, looked the most natural creature in the world compared to the peacocks milling about.
She looked up and met his gaze, and he saw pain in her eyes.
“Your water—Eleanor,” he said.
Her eyes widened at the familiarity, then she took the glass. Her hands shook, and water spilled onto her gown. He reached for her hand and steadied it, and she drew in a sharp breath as their fingers touched.
“Are you well?” he whispered.
“Quite well, thank you.”
“No you’re not, Elle,” Lady Marlow said.
“Lavinia, I…” Miss Howard’s voice died as Lord Marlow joined them.
“Your punch, darling,” he said, handing a glass to Lady Marlow.
The music changed in tempo as the dance grew livelier, and a shriek of laughter rose up.
Miss Howard closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath, and Monty took her hand.
“Miss Howard, might you oblige me?”
“W-with what?”
“I find all the noise rather tiresome. Shall we take a turn about the room?”
