“No, thank you. I believe I’ve had enough for the night.”
“Some lemonade then?” she asked. Without waiting for a reply, Gaynor turned to Patrick. “Kyre, do be a gentleman and get Miss Talbot-Martin a glass of cool lemonade.”
Patrick blinked at both women, then shrugged and walked away. He was not so na?ve to think that Gaynor actually cared if Linley was thirsty. Clearly, this was not about lemonade. This was about getting him out of the way for a moment. And, for once, he was all too happy to comply.
As Patrick slipped through the crowd on his fool’s errand, Gaynor turned to Linley. “Besides the Duke of Buckland and perhaps one other gentleman,” Miss Robeson explained. “Lord Kyre is the most sought after marital prize in England.”
“How fortunate for him.”
“Yes, but not so fortunate for the young ladies interested in him,” she said.
“I see how that could make things difficult.”
“And it doesn’t help that he is so nice to everybody.” As if Linley had only imagined the insult, Miss Robeson continued, “You see, our dear friend is the ideal husband—handsome, gracious, and quite manageable. His wife could do whatever she pleased, so long as she kept him in Henry Poole and left him to those dusty old books he loves so much.”
“I’m sure he would disagree.”
“On the contrary,” Gaynor said. “Lord Kyre is a smart man. He understands what it takes to make a marriage beneficial for both parties.”
“And what would that be?”
“Privacy,” she said. “And the good sense not to ask questions one needn’t know the answers to.”
“You mean the freedom to have affairs.”
“Oh, Miss Talbot-Martin, you are so delightfully middle class.” Gaynor laughed. “Haven’t you heard of Lady Wolstanton? She and Lord Kyre carried on quite the torrid love affair some years ago. He didn’t seem to mind that she was married.”
Patrick turned and glanced in their direction. Clearly, he knew they were discussing him. Even from thirty feet away, it was plain to see. But as quickly as he locked eyes with them, he returned his focus to the footman at his elbow.
Linley forced herself to do the same, concentrating on Miss Robeson instead. “You seem to know a great deal about his virtues.”
“And, as you can see, I know a great deal about his vices, too,” Gaynor said. “No, not his vices. His…” She paused to find the right word. “…Weaknesses. A man like that doesn’t have vices.”
Linley had to agree. Since they day she met him, she had never known Patrick to be anything other than the perfect gentleman. She could not imagine him as anything less.
But hadn’t they quarreled that very same evening? Hadn’t he confessed to being angry and jealous? Clearly he was not perfect. And, clearly, Gaynor knew him better than she did.
And it made Linley furious.
She opened her mouth to say something. She was not going to be bullied, especially not by the likes of Gaynor Robeson, no matter how rich, or pretty, or popular the woman was. Linley could out-shoot her, out-ride her, and more than likely out-smart her. In the real world, Miss Robeson did not stand a chance. But Linley had to remind herself that this was not the real world, and that Gaynor Robeson possessed an entire arsenal of the only thing that mattered here—feminine allure.
By then Patrick had returned, sans lemonade, and, as if sensing her victory, Gaynor took a quick sip of her champagne and handed Linley the half-empty glass.
“Kyre,” she said, holding her free hands out to him. “Dance with me!”
Linley watched Patrick lead Gaynor onto the dance floor. She had to admit they made a smart couple. Even in that ridiculous gown, Gaynor’s poise and beauty lit up the room as she laughed and spun in Patrick’s arms. But, however lovely Miss Robeson looked, no one else seemed to notice. The entire ballroom studied Linley in her black dress and red slippers.
Her heart raced and she felt flushed all over. She longed to slip into a corner and hide somewhere or to run out into the street and jump in the first motorcar she saw.
As she scanned the room, hundreds of unfamiliar faces stared back at her. But the one face she did recognize—and for once in her life wished she hadn’t—was Reginald’s. He stood with his family near the French doors.
When his eyes met hers, Linley waved. She’d been spotted. What else could she do?
Reginald crossed the dance floor and headed straight in her direction. “What are you doing here?”
“I—I came with Lord Kyre.”
“The man is taking you to balls now? What is he trying to do, flaunt you?”
Linley shrugged.
Looking down at her, Reginald sighed. “At any rate, you look beautiful. I almost didn’t recognize you in these clothes.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “You look nice, too.”
“Listen, I’ve been trying like mad to raise money for your father, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time. Tonight was my last hope, and not even the Earl of Markham would commit.”