“And leave me on the dance floor? Make a spectacle of all three of us? Pray, sir, I beg you will not.”
A low growl rumbled in Mr. Huntley’s throat. “I ought to draw his cork, the rake. Coming here and turning innocent girls’ heads.”
“If by ‘innocent girl’ you are referring to me, sir, then let me tell you, the Marquis of Steyne has not turned my head,” Lizzie snapped. “Please do not glare at him so. You will only create a stir.”
Huntley seemed to exert some effort to master himself. He regarded her for a moment, the hostility fading from his expression. “You are right. But you must promise me you will stay away from him, Lizzie. I know his reputation, and I would not put it past him to make you the object of his evil designs.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You make him sound like the villain from a melodrama. I am sure he can be no danger to me.”
“That is because you are wholly untouched by vice,” said Huntley. “A young lady like you could never conceive of the depths to which a man like Lord Steyne might plunge.”
She rather wondered if she had a better idea than Huntley about Lord Steyne’s character, but she merely murmured some inanity and let her attention lapse again as Huntley expanded on the subject of her innocence and purity.
If only he knew.
She was acutely aware of the marquis throughout the dance. When their eyes met, as occasionally occurred, a pulse of excitement shot through her. She fought to pay attention to Huntley’s interminable discourse but soon the hot tangle of her worries and speculations swamped her. What would she do about Steyne?
She forced herself to pay attention to Mr. Huntley, who had leaned down as if to speak confidentially. He smelled distinctly of the scented pomade he used on his hair.
“We must count ourselves most fortunate,” he said, “for Mama has mustered all of her resources to be here tonight. Such evenings tax her strength greatly, you know.”
Lizzie murmured, “I trust Mrs. Huntley derives enjoyment from the evening, sir. I wish I could have persuaded Mr. Allbright to attend.”
“She could hardly stay away on such an occasion, much as she might disapprove,” said Mr. Huntley. “I have consulted her at length and taken her objections into account. But a man must make his own decision in such a, er, delicate matter, after all.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie agreed absently, wondering how quickly she might get away. If only she hadn’t filled the evening with dance partners. She needed to be alone, to think.
When the dance finally ended, she extricated her arm from Huntley’s possessive grasp. “Pray excuse me, sir. I must see to a few details before supper.”
When she’d made her excuses to her next dancing partner and ensured all was in train in the dining room, it wanted only a quarter hour until midnight. Lizzie hurried along to the ladies’ retiring room to stare at her reflection in the looking glass.
All the while, her mind was full of her earlier encounter with Steyne. She hated his assurance, his assumption she would fall in with whatever scheme he had in mind. If only she felt indifferent to him, it would be easier to give him what he wanted. But whenever she contemplated being with him, it made something deep inside her ache.
The garden at midnight. That prospect seemed fraught with danger. Her reaction to Steyne’s touch tonight highlighted how susceptible she was to him.
She’d never expected to have a home and a family the way most young women did. She’d resigned herself to her strange in-between state long ago. Perhaps if she’d fallen in love with another man, she might have considered writing to the marquis to beg him for an annulment, though she doubted that would be possible after they’d consummated their union. Would he consider a divorce? The expense and scandal of such a proceeding would be powerful deterrents.
The truth was that since her wedding night, she’d never met a man who came
A low growl rumbled in Mr. Huntley’s throat. “I ought to draw his cork, the rake. Coming here and turning innocent girls’ heads.”
“If by ‘innocent girl’ you are referring to me, sir, then let me tell you, the Marquis of Steyne has not turned my head,” Lizzie snapped. “Please do not glare at him so. You will only create a stir.”
Huntley seemed to exert some effort to master himself. He regarded her for a moment, the hostility fading from his expression. “You are right. But you must promise me you will stay away from him, Lizzie. I know his reputation, and I would not put it past him to make you the object of his evil designs.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You make him sound like the villain from a melodrama. I am sure he can be no danger to me.”
“That is because you are wholly untouched by vice,” said Huntley. “A young lady like you could never conceive of the depths to which a man like Lord Steyne might plunge.”
She rather wondered if she had a better idea than Huntley about Lord Steyne’s character, but she merely murmured some inanity and let her attention lapse again as Huntley expanded on the subject of her innocence and purity.
If only he knew.
She was acutely aware of the marquis throughout the dance. When their eyes met, as occasionally occurred, a pulse of excitement shot through her. She fought to pay attention to Huntley’s interminable discourse but soon the hot tangle of her worries and speculations swamped her. What would she do about Steyne?
She forced herself to pay attention to Mr. Huntley, who had leaned down as if to speak confidentially. He smelled distinctly of the scented pomade he used on his hair.
“We must count ourselves most fortunate,” he said, “for Mama has mustered all of her resources to be here tonight. Such evenings tax her strength greatly, you know.”
Lizzie murmured, “I trust Mrs. Huntley derives enjoyment from the evening, sir. I wish I could have persuaded Mr. Allbright to attend.”
“She could hardly stay away on such an occasion, much as she might disapprove,” said Mr. Huntley. “I have consulted her at length and taken her objections into account. But a man must make his own decision in such a, er, delicate matter, after all.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie agreed absently, wondering how quickly she might get away. If only she hadn’t filled the evening with dance partners. She needed to be alone, to think.
When the dance finally ended, she extricated her arm from Huntley’s possessive grasp. “Pray excuse me, sir. I must see to a few details before supper.”
When she’d made her excuses to her next dancing partner and ensured all was in train in the dining room, it wanted only a quarter hour until midnight. Lizzie hurried along to the ladies’ retiring room to stare at her reflection in the looking glass.
All the while, her mind was full of her earlier encounter with Steyne. She hated his assurance, his assumption she would fall in with whatever scheme he had in mind. If only she felt indifferent to him, it would be easier to give him what he wanted. But whenever she contemplated being with him, it made something deep inside her ache.
The garden at midnight. That prospect seemed fraught with danger. Her reaction to Steyne’s touch tonight highlighted how susceptible she was to him.
She’d never expected to have a home and a family the way most young women did. She’d resigned herself to her strange in-between state long ago. Perhaps if she’d fallen in love with another man, she might have considered writing to the marquis to beg him for an annulment, though she doubted that would be possible after they’d consummated their union. Would he consider a divorce? The expense and scandal of such a proceeding would be powerful deterrents.
The truth was that since her wedding night, she’d never met a man who came
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