Anabelle Bryant - Defying The Earl

“Rigby? Poetry? If my memory serves, at university you categorized prose as senseless drivel unworthy of the page unless the goal was set at seduc—”

“Indeed!” Lady Pridley interjected with a sharp rap of her fan to Dashwood’s forearm. “One does not point out a change in opinion, most especially when the lady prefers it otherwise.”

Wilhelmina snorted at the reprimand. Four sets of eyes swung in her direction and she camouflaged her delight with a cough. Lord Dashwood was proving entertaining if nothing else. She did not need his interference when things were proceeding so swimmingly between Fiona and Leonard. If their love match proved this simple, Wilhelmina’s payment was in reach before month’s end. The very idea brought a smile to her face, a balm to any lingering fears.

“Perhaps you misunderstood.” Leonard attempted to erase the abashed look on Fiona’s face at hearing Dashwood’s comment, but the dinner bell rang and the group dispersed. Wilhelmina watched closely as Fiona accepted Leonard’s escort into supper. She was left standing near the bookcase and that suited, as her equilibrium remained off kilter from her exchange with Lord Dashwood.

Aunt Kate came to claim her arm while Wilhelmina contemplated his irritating presence. One did not purposely expose another’s inconsistencies. It just wasn’t done. Despite her earlier enchantment, Wilhelmina wondered at the man’s fickle charms. He had displayed equally curious emotions when they collided in the roadway. Best she push the matter aside. Lord Dashwood fitted nowhere in her plan to match Leonard and Fiona, his presence mattering little in the larger scheme of things. Wilhelmina planned to see Leonard and Fiona happily paired despite whatever periphery nonsense her heart incited.

Chapter Six

Well, that was not well done of him. The disparaging glares cast in his direction when he contradicted Rigby’s announcement of a fondness for poetry were more unsettling than the notion of destitution. Well, almost. Surely poverty would offer him the opportunity for equal censure if he did not have a care. Nearsightedness as it pertained to conversation would do little to ingratiate his company if he abandoned finesse. His focus may be solely on destroying Leonard’s affection toward Fiona, but it would not be achieved in a heavy-handed manner, the likely approach employed by Leonard’s father.

Curse Jasper and his lack-witted idea. A more sensible policy would provide his brother stop gambling, wasting funds, and idling away time, as Valerian had warned him to do years ago. Instead Valerian was forced into a role of falsity, trussed up like a holiday goose in an uncomfortable sample ensemble. He clenched his teeth and revised his approach. Although the dinner bell had rung, several couples still milled in the hallway while others conversed near the windows. Time held firm for an alternate plan.

“Lady Collingsworth, may I beg a word?” He executed a polite bow and called forth his most charming smile for the evening’s hostess.

“Lord Dashwood, such a delight.” The older woman, fanning her face madly, offered him complete attention with a grin, the effusive scent of orchids floating around her person. “I’m so pleased you chose to attend. You’re looking well. I’d venture to say this return to London is quite timely as I rarely entertain once the season is in full swing.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Not for five thousand pounds . He exhaled deeply, gathering his makeshift plan close to heart and producing another smile.

“Have you tried the curried shrimp? My cook prepared an exquisite menu and the appetizers are merely a taste.” She inclined her head to compensate for the loud conversation as the crowd moved toward the dining room. Her expression shifted from pride to question.

He returned her enthusiasm. “Everything has been lovely. Beyond my expectations, but may I inquire of the seating this evening? Would it pose an imposition for a slight realignment in regard to the meal’s dining arrangement?”

“Aah, romance.” An expression of slight misgiving, then realization dawned. “You have your eye on a particular lady, you scoundrel? And to think I believed your brother the rabblerouser in your family.” Her cheeks took on a crimson glow as if she spoke from experience rather than assumption. “Consider it done. Never would I stand in the way of blossoming affection, most especially when you’ve been absent from the social scene. It’s a genuine pleasure to have you at the table. Feel free to rearrange the cards to ensure you converse with the lady who has captured your interest. Good luck with your chase.” She fluttered her satin-gloved hand in the direction of the dinner table as if to encourage him to interfere with her meticulous planning.

“You flatter me, Lady Collingsworth, when it is I who should thank you for your gracious invitation on such short notice. I appreciate your agreeability.” He took a few steps to the right, anxious to reach the place cards before guests advanced to their seats.

“Nonsense, the pleasure is mine. Now you should be about your plan before my guests descend on the table and you’ll have no choice but to watch some other lucky gentleman woo the woman who’s turned your head.” She withdrew as she spoke. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to oversee dinner service.”

Three strides took him nearer the table but his steps slowed as he noticed Lady Montgomery intent on the same direction, her head bowed in the similar manner as when she’d found her way into a roadway ditch. He watched, bemused, as candlelight danced on the silky strands of her hair, hues of brandy and mahogany swept in a lovely style and pinned behind her neck with an ornate clip. Her eyes darted right and left as if ensuring no one noticed her purposeful presence, but how could one ignore her? There was nothing singularly unique about the gown, nor the coiffure or jewelry, yet her grace was natural, her beauty pure; as if she alone was the sole lady in the room.

She shot a second glance over her shoulder before her eyes bowed to the table. He watched with stunning anticipation as she palmed two seating cards and replaced them further down the table with the smooth efficiency of a practiced thief. If he wasn’t so intrigued by her actions, he might have admired her spunk and fortitude. She wore a triumphant smile. Whatsoever was the lady up to? There was only one way to find out.

“Lady Montgomery.” He adjusted his cuffs in feigned preoccupation, although he hadn’t missed the startle of her shoulders when he’d eased behind her. A few feathery wisps of hair had escaped her coif and the desire to nuzzle her neck, to feel the silky softness of her skin entered his mind with unexpected clarity. Reclaiming his focus with a strong blink, he thrust the thought aside and pursued his answer. “Whatsoever are you doing redesigning Lady Collingsworth’s table? Was the guest to your right an unbearable bore or did you merely wish to sit beside me?”

She drew a quick breath at his question and then stared at the table as if she didn’t realize what she’d perpetrated.

“The choice between boredom and your company would be an exercise in redundancy, Lord Dashwood.”

Her flippant tone contradicted the tremble of her chin. She’d been caught and entirely unsettled by the matter, yet she’d managed a sharp set down despite the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Bravo .

Valerian glanced at the place cards directly in front of him and a flame of annoyance licked at his brain. Lady Montgomery had rearranged Lord Rigby’s seat so the gentleman belonged beside Lady Fiona. If she’d left well enough alone, fate would have done his job. Lady Montgomery’s meddling would become a nuisance if she persisted.