Chapter 1 #3
His gaze raked over her once again, taking in the defiant tilt of her chin, the unladylike scowl. “With such lack of restraint, not to speak of clumsiness, no wonder you have reached an advanced age with no success in snaring a husband.”
Her color deepened to a bright red. She stood utterly tongue-tied for several moments, her mouth opening then shutting without a sound coming forth. Then, with the half empty glass still clutched in her hand, she whirled and disappeared behind the trees.
Marcus’s mouth thinned into a tight line.
That had been needlessly cruel, he thought with a twinge of conscience.
It wasn’t at all like him to act in such an ungentlemanly fashion, but somehow the chit had caused the frayed ends of his patience to snap.
He supposed he ought to follow her and make some apology.
He had been wrong to let his damnable temper cause him to lose control.
If he were honest with himself, she had not been entirely to blame for the unfortunate incident.
After all, his words had been rather harsh and, as she had put it, rather vulgar.
Indeed. The young lady—for despite his cutting words, she did not appear to be entirely on the shelf—didn’t deserve to be so ruthlessly skewered for trying to defend those of her sex.
She had shown more grit than he had ever expected in a female, even though she had been no match in trying to cross verbal swords with him.
His lips suddenly twitched as he recalled she hadn’t been totally unable to express herself.
Why, she had called him a pompous ass! A glance down at his ruined garment caused another wry grimace.
He could almost believe the chit had done it on purpose …
but that would most likely be according her too much credit for clever retribution.
At least, she had made his decision on how to pass the rest of the evening a simple one. He had no choice but to return to his townhouse and change out of the sticky mess. And given the way the evening had been progressing, the thought of reading by the fire seemed even more appealing.
Odious coxcomb!
Augusta took a deep breath and tried to settle her seething emotions.
Why was it she seemed to need ink and paper in front of her to compose her thoughts properly?
From her pen, the right words seemed to run with an exuberant spontaneity …
while when she was in the presence of strangers they tripped on her tongue, tangling themselves in such a way as to make her sound, well, idiotic—that is, if she managed to speak at all.
Only the fact that she had been absolutely furious over the insult to Marianne had allowed her to make such a bold assault on the gentleman before her natural reticence reasserted itself.
That she had turned and fled without coming up with even a halfway pithy retort to his insult made her annoyance with herself even greater.
If she were going to make an ass of herself in public, why couldn’t she at least be a clever ass?
She fetched a fresh glass of lemonade, still fuming over the incident.
Gentleman indeed! The Earl of Dunham appeared to be even worse than his reputation suggested.
Her own brief experience certainly corroborated certain whispers that he was hot-tempered and arrogant, a jaded rake, puffed up with a sense of his own importance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his tall, elegantly dressed figure among the throng of milling couples.
He was undeniably handsome, she grudgingly allowed, and moved with an easy natural grace which she wished her long, gawky limbs could emulate.
But the look of sardonic boredom on his chiseled lips as his gaze moved over the crowd only reaffirmed her impression that he was the most insufferable man she had ever met.
“Oh dear, whatever is wrong, Gus?” whispered Marianne, leaning close to take the glass from her sister’s hands.
“What makes you think anything is wrong?” she answered through gritted teeth.
Marianne turned to smile prettily at her latest dance partner, remarking that she had changed her mind and would prefer ratafia punch to lemonade. As the young man hurried off, she took Augusta by the arm and moved out of the hearing of two stout matrons sitting nearby.
“Your cheeks are exactly the shade of red they get when Uncle Charles remarks that ladies should not read certain books, lest they confuse our feeble minds.”
Augusta allowed a tight smile. “I’m surprised they aren’t even redder, given the provocation.” She took a deep breath. “Pay it no heed, I just … bumped into a most unpleasant gentleman, that is all.”
Marianne looked surprised, but the expression on Augusta’s face seemed to make her think better of pursuing the matter.
After a moment she sought to change the subject.
“Was that really the Earl of Dunham you were conversing with near the refreshment room? I was not aware that you were acquainted with him.”
“I am not acquainted with him. Nor do I wish to be. In fact, if I never see that arrogant, insufferable man again I shall be well pleased. And I can safely assume he feels the same way.” At her sister’s startled expression, she went on to explain.
” We were not conversing. We were trading insults, though I fear he got much the better of me.
” Her lips compressed into a grim smile.
”But at least I managed to dampen His Lordship’s overweening pride with over half a glass of lemonade. ”
Marianne a horrified gasp.” You didn’t! Oh, Gus, no wonder he was upset. Why, he is accorded to be one of the most fashionable men in Town. All the young dandies seek to copy his dress—”
“Well then, waistcoats streaked with a rather ghastly shade of yellow should be all the crack next week.”
“Gus!”
“It wasn’t as if I did it on purpose.” She paused a fraction. “Not exactly.”
Her sister had gone rather pale. “It is said he is a very powerful man, one you should not wish to make an enemy of.”
Augusta chin came up a fraction. “It doesn’t matter. He was unforgivably rude about all the young misses here, and you in particular.”
“Me!” Marianne looked totally confused now. “Why, he doesn’t know me!”
“Precisely.”
Any further conversation on the matter was cut off by the return of Mr. Darby and another young man who had danced the first set with Marianne.
Their offer to escort the two sisters into supper was accepted and the four of them followed the crowd heading toward the tables heaped with all manner of delicacies.
Augusta couldn’t help but notice that earl was coming in her direction.
When it looked for one horrible moment as if he might pause, she drew her brows together and shot him a black look that she hoped was just as intimidating as the one he had given her earlier.
To her great satisfaction, he passed by without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.
Marcus watched the four young people pass.
No wonder the lady had been upset, he thought.
The blonde was obviously a friend—no, on closer observation, it appeared likely they were related, though the younger girl was more conventionally pretty than his recent antagonist. That made his crude comments even worse, though it hadn’t been his fault she had been skulking in the greenery, eavesdropping on a decidedly private conversation between two gentlemen.
Still, he should have known better than to voice such sentiments in mixed company.
It was a measure of how out of kilter he was feeling these days, to make such a silly error in judgment He knew he should force himself to proffer an apology, but the presence of the two young men caused his jaw to clench.
He’d be damned if he’d make any more of a cake of himself tonight by exposing the ridiculous affair to the ears of those young pups.
It would be all over the clubs before midnight!
He would do the pretty the next time he saw her.
Or perhaps he would get lucky and never have to lay eyes on the offending chit again.