Chapter 3
Problem. Big, big problem. What smell of possibility. This was the distasteful scent of disaster! She hid just outside the drawing room that housed their recent guests, wincing each time Lady Gabrielle’s complaints drifted through the doorway.
Drat. Drat. Drat.
She hadn’t thought these women would be so shameless as to hunt her down first thing in the morning. But then, given their schemes last night, could she truly be surprised?
She motioned Aubrey, their butler, over when he exited the room. “Are they refusing to leave even after you told them no one is available?”
The older man nodded. “Yes, my lady. They are rudely insistent on rooting themselves to the nearest sofa until they can get an audience with my lady.”
Elowyn sighed.
She shouldn’t have given such a foolish excuse.
Touring drawing rooms? Who would believe that?
How could she simply retract her nonsense now?
She had tried her best to put the entire incident from her mind.
Up till they knocked on her door, she hadn’t considered the consequence of taking the duke’s side by snapping back.
Could she just claim ignorance? That she had too much wine?
Urgh.
I should never have followed Stagbourne!
And all this for one stone-faced duke.
A shiver traced down her spine. The man’s eyes certainly matched all the rumors of ruthlessness. Handsome, certainly. But in a wholly unapproachable way. Which was probably what made the man so breath-taking and intriguing.
“My lady?” Aubrey urged.
Elowyn nodded and resigned herself to her fate. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she stepped into the drawing room, flinching when three pairs of eyes instantly sliced into her. Three dark clouds might as well have hovered above their heads for all their dark looks.
She couldn’t quite help the slight tremble in her hands.
Elowyn hated conflict.
She’d much sooner have the earth swallow her whole than face it, quite honestly. But there was no running from this lot.
“Lady Florence, Lady Matilda, and Lady Gabrielle. To what do I owe this distinct,” and thoroughly unfortunate, “pleasure?”
Lady Gabrielle leaped to her feet, pointing a finger at her. “Do not play the fool. You know exactly what you did! I failed at my grand plan and it’s all your fault!”
“Gabrielle,” Lady Florence murmured, also rising to her feet with Lady Matilda reluctantly following suit. “All is not lost.” Lady Florence looked over to Elowyn. “We only need you to inform the Duchess of Cranbrook and Gabrielle’s mother of what transpired last night. Please.”
Elowyn almost softened. Stars, she didn’t like being in this position, but even though Lady Florence had asked nicely, Lady Gabrielle’s uncompromising glare made that impossible. So, she crossed her arms, and forced out, “And what exactly is that?”
Lady Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, while Lady Florence, the seeming spokesperson today, simply said, “You bore witness to the Duke of Mandeville compromising our friend. As a witness, you have a moral obligation to confirm what occurred. All we ask is that you relay everything you saw to the host of the ball. If you refuse, you are just as guilty of compromising her as he is.”
How outlandish.
As if Elowyn hadn’t seen through the entire charade.
Neither she nor the duke was guilty.
You, yes.
The Duke of Mandeville . . .
Could she truly claim that of him?
Elowyn hesitated. She wanted to refuse on the principle of annoyance, honestly. But . . . what did she know about the relationship between Lady Gabrielle and the duke? It could be much more complicated than met the eye.
Perhaps it would be better to do what they wanted?
It would be the easier route.
Elowyn’s shoulders sagged slightly.
“Five seasons,” Lady Gabrielle announced, her voice dripping with contempt.
“Five seasons, and still no offer. No dance card filled with suitors. No gentleman caller. And yet you presume to slow my efforts? At least I’m trying to secure my future.
What are you doing? Hiding in the margins, hoping someone notices you? ”
Lady Matilda nodded in agreement.
They might as well have slapped Elowyn.
All sympathy evaporated. In its place came something sharper—pure, crystalline indignation.
How dare this woman judge her so harshly? She, who knew nothing of what she’d been through and her aforementioned efforts. On what did she even base her uninformed assumptions? Unacceptable.
“Trying?” Elowyn said softly. “Is that what you’re calling your roundabout schemes?” Which thoroughly felt like an inadequate way of phrasing, but it was the politest version of what she meant. “I refuse to be drawn into your schemes.”
Lady Florence sighed, grabbing Lady Gabrielle’s arms when she would have responded. “This is no jesting matter, so I urge you to reconsider. If you do this for us, we will make it up to you, we promise.”
We? Promise?
The word floated in the air between them.
A trap.
That was Elowyn’s first thought. Even if she wanted to believe that kindness given would be kindness returned, she would be a fool to trust any one of these women.
Lady Matilda’s face turned purple. “Are you truly going to deny Gabrielle her dream?”
The gall. “I am not the one standing between Gabrielle and her dream. Best she look at her own actions before placing all the blame at my door. I may be unmarried after five seasons, but at least I’m not busy devising traps like some common schemer.
At least I’m not standing in someone’s drawing room, pointing fingers instead of taking accountability for my own actions. ”
Lady Gabrielle’s face filled with fury. “You will regret this.”
Oh, I already regret many things!
“Then I suppose I shall just have to regret. Now leave.” Elowyn pointed toward the door. “If you do not have the decency to treat me as a human being, do not darken my door again.”
Elowyn didn’t wait for them to move, she simply turned on her heel and marched off. She had a better, brighter season to plan than to dwell on the likes of them.
***
“Lady Elowyn Price?”
Wrath nodded. “That’s what my servant’s sleuthing uncovered. She’d roused the temper of Lady Gabrielle and her mother. Chances are, she’s exactly who you are looking for and,” his friend grinned, “she was wearing a pink dress.”
Julien tapped a finger on his desk.
Lady Elowyn Price.
“How have I never heard about her before?” Never seen her before. He might not enjoy balls anymore, but given she’d debuted five years ago according to Wrath, he should have met her somewhere, right? But no. “What the devil was she doing roaming Cranbrook’s halls?”
“That’s the curious bit,” Wrath said, moving to the sideboard and pouring himself a brandy.
“She shouldn’t have been anywhere near those halls as the chit has been a wallflower enough to avoid attention the past five years.
She could teach spies the art of invisibility.
A servant saw her following the Earl of Stagbourne. ”
Stagbourne, heh?
“Whatever she was up to last night,” Wrath went on, “she stumbled directly into your trap instead, and it rattled her enough to leave.”
So, she lost him and found me.
Interesting.
Even more fascinating had been her response. He hadn’t given thought to it much last night since his ire over the whole debacle had lasted until sleep claimed him. This morning however, he had a clearer head.
She’d done him a great service last night.
Almost any other woman would have hesitated and caused a myriad of headaches. Now, only one remained. Convincing her to keep her silence on the matter. “She’s the daughter of Elias Price, the Marquess of Sandes?”
Wrath nodded.
Julien had met the man and his son before, but he didn’t know he had a daughter, too. If he recalled correctly, the Marchioness was a sweet, quiet woman who fell ill and passed away seven years ago. Nevertheless, what he glimpsed of Lady Elowyn last night . . .
The corner of his mouth twitched.
How had she remained a wallflower for five seasons?
A wild wallflower, perhaps?
“Also, I received word that Lady Gabrielle called on Lady Elowyn today.”
The rage that had settled somewhat since last night, flared hot again. “You put a man on her?”
“Of course,” Wrath said. “You’re not the only one who will be affected if that family gets their claws into you. Besides, if they’re like this before marriage, imagine after marriage.”
Julien’s face darkened. No reason to imagine. He knew all too well. And no one tried to manipulate him without suffering the damn consequences. If Dansbury somehow orchestrated this scheme, he would destroy the man. Financially. Socially. Utterly.
But first, he needed to hunt down Lady Elowyn Price.
What was her play? Was she naive, or strategic? Innocent, or calculating? Another trap in the making? He couldn’t rule out anything at this point. He also couldn’t wait. Look what happened the last time he bloody hesitated.
He’d underestimated the situation once.
He wouldn’t do it again.
Even if the little beauty proved innocent and na?ve, she was now a variable he needed to control.
The thought should have annoyed the devil out of him. Instead, it intrigued him in a way that made his skin prickle with something dangerously close to anticipation.
Julien rose to his feet. “I need a favor.” Something about Lady Gabrielle felt off. Even familiar.
“Anything.”
“Look into Lady Gabrielle’s history, acquaintances, everything.”
Wrath arched a brow. “You think she’s done this before?”
“Can’t say.” But he picked up a scent of sorts. “Her execution had been too flawless for mere direction.”
“Very well. What about you? Calling on Lady Elowyn, presume?”
Julien nodded.
“Are you sure that’s wise? That might invite unnecessary rumors.”
A cold smile spread on Julien’s face as his mind raced. “Or just the right kind.”