the pamphlet made Lady Underhill swoon. Swoon dead away in her own dressing room.” Lady Foxdown’s eyes sparkled with a hint of salaciousness as she spoke to her husband, not two paces away from Lily at the end of the ballroom.
Lily whipped out her fan. This particular conversation was not one she relished being a part of. “Is it insufferably hot in here?” she whispered to Viscount Medford who stood stalwart by her side.
“No warmer than usual,” Medford replied in his own whisper, his grin barely discernible.
“And what did Lord Underhill do?” Lord Foxdown asked his wife.
“Why, called for the maid to bring the smelling salts, and then promptly removed that scandalous text from his wife’s person.”
Lily gave the couple a pained smile. “I do hope Lady Underhill recovered,” she managed to say, fluttering the fan more quickly. Oh, but it was hot. And discussion of the pamphlet did nothing to improve her mood. She glanced longingly at the nearby double doors that led out onto the Foxdowns’ veranda. If only she could escape.
To make matters worse, Colton had been watching her all evening. He’d made no move to approach her, but she could feel his dark eyes on her like heavy weights. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. The man had sent her a hothouse full of flowers this afternoon, and now he was staring her down. Obviously all part of his plot to drive her mad.
And why did he have to be so handsome? It would make the entire thing much simpler if he were not. Instead, he stood across the ballroom, with a bevy of beauties swirling about him like so many butterflies in a garden. His dark, superfine evening attire perfectly molded to his exquisite body, his height placed him head and shoulders above all other men in the room except Medford. His white teeth flashed when he laughed, his dark hair was slightly ruffled, and his unsettling gaze came back again and again to rest on Lily. And haunt her.
Her thoughts kept returning to the goodly sum of money she’d earned at Vauxhall that afternoon. Confound it, she had him to thank for it.
“And I heard another pamphlet is being written. One that promises to be even more scandalous,” Lady Foxdown whispered to their little group as she cut another glance at Lily.
Lily kept her face carefully blank. She didn’t dare look at Medford again. Lady Foxdown might interpret it as a sign of guilt. And oh, but she did so enjoy being guilty with Medford. The viscount, her very good friend, was the pinnacle of a Society gentleman. Respected, revered, a beacon of propriety. Only such a man could be a part of the haut ton and remain affiliated with a printing press. And only Medford could get away with printing that blasted pamphlet, without anyone disparaging him for it. No, the scandal was reserved for the anonymous author, not the gentleman who’d put the pamphlet into circulation.
Medford had a talent for having fun at the ton’ s expense, without them realizing it. That was only one of his many endearing qualities. Another one was his deep sense of honor. He could always be counted upon, and had none of the airs one would expect from a man with his wealth, from an unimpeachable family. And he had the same wicked sense of humor that Lily did.
As Lady Foxdown droned on about the pamphlet, Lily’s mind traveled back to the night she’d met Medford.
They’d been seated next to each other at a musicale one evening four years ago. When their host’s daughter had begun singing in a voice that sounded much too much as if someone were slaughtering a sow, the two of them had been unable to contain their laughter.
Shaking, with tears threatening, they’d both bolted for the door at nearly the exact same moment. Medford had bowed politely to her, allowed her to precede him from the room, and managed to keep a straight face as he escorted her outside. They’d spent the remainder of that evening on the balcony, glad for the fresh air and the even more
Lily whipped out her fan. This particular conversation was not one she relished being a part of. “Is it insufferably hot in here?” she whispered to Viscount Medford who stood stalwart by her side.
“No warmer than usual,” Medford replied in his own whisper, his grin barely discernible.
“And what did Lord Underhill do?” Lord Foxdown asked his wife.
“Why, called for the maid to bring the smelling salts, and then promptly removed that scandalous text from his wife’s person.”
Lily gave the couple a pained smile. “I do hope Lady Underhill recovered,” she managed to say, fluttering the fan more quickly. Oh, but it was hot. And discussion of the pamphlet did nothing to improve her mood. She glanced longingly at the nearby double doors that led out onto the Foxdowns’ veranda. If only she could escape.
To make matters worse, Colton had been watching her all evening. He’d made no move to approach her, but she could feel his dark eyes on her like heavy weights. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. The man had sent her a hothouse full of flowers this afternoon, and now he was staring her down. Obviously all part of his plot to drive her mad.
And why did he have to be so handsome? It would make the entire thing much simpler if he were not. Instead, he stood across the ballroom, with a bevy of beauties swirling about him like so many butterflies in a garden. His dark, superfine evening attire perfectly molded to his exquisite body, his height placed him head and shoulders above all other men in the room except Medford. His white teeth flashed when he laughed, his dark hair was slightly ruffled, and his unsettling gaze came back again and again to rest on Lily. And haunt her.
Her thoughts kept returning to the goodly sum of money she’d earned at Vauxhall that afternoon. Confound it, she had him to thank for it.
“And I heard another pamphlet is being written. One that promises to be even more scandalous,” Lady Foxdown whispered to their little group as she cut another glance at Lily.
Lily kept her face carefully blank. She didn’t dare look at Medford again. Lady Foxdown might interpret it as a sign of guilt. And oh, but she did so enjoy being guilty with Medford. The viscount, her very good friend, was the pinnacle of a Society gentleman. Respected, revered, a beacon of propriety. Only such a man could be a part of the haut ton and remain affiliated with a printing press. And only Medford could get away with printing that blasted pamphlet, without anyone disparaging him for it. No, the scandal was reserved for the anonymous author, not the gentleman who’d put the pamphlet into circulation.
Medford had a talent for having fun at the ton’ s expense, without them realizing it. That was only one of his many endearing qualities. Another one was his deep sense of honor. He could always be counted upon, and had none of the airs one would expect from a man with his wealth, from an unimpeachable family. And he had the same wicked sense of humor that Lily did.
As Lady Foxdown droned on about the pamphlet, Lily’s mind traveled back to the night she’d met Medford.
They’d been seated next to each other at a musicale one evening four years ago. When their host’s daughter had begun singing in a voice that sounded much too much as if someone were slaughtering a sow, the two of them had been unable to contain their laughter.
Shaking, with tears threatening, they’d both bolted for the door at nearly the exact same moment. Medford had bowed politely to her, allowed her to precede him from the room, and managed to keep a straight face as he escorted her outside. They’d spent the remainder of that evening on the balcony, glad for the fresh air and the even more
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