“Sorry, Belle,” she muttered, closing the book and smoothing her hands over the cover. “But that dreadful Lady Scranford was so infuriating and ... and I just needed to escape before I said something awful.” Belle thought she showed remarkable restraint in keeping her mouth shut at this point. “You know I can’t bear it when everyone sits around talking inanities,” Crecy continued, growing increasingly angry. “And she was such a ... a ...”
“Yes, she was,” Belle replied, her tone dry. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you cannot simply wander off on your own. It’s too dangerous. Especially the way those idiotic beaus of yours follow you about.”
Crecy snorted. “Not now, they won’t,” she replied, looking far more pleased than Belle would have liked by the idea. “Not after tonight.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “No. Well, you needn’t look so gleeful about it, you wretched creature.” There was no heat behind the words and Crecy just laughed.
“Oh, but wasn’t the marquess terrific!” she added, her grey eyes alight with laughter. “Do you know, I actually thought Lady Scranford would cast up her accounts, she looked so mortified.”
“Crecy!” Belle snapped, shaking her head in exasperation. “Will you please keep such vulgar expressions to yourself?” she scolded as Crecy hid a grin. “And as for the marquess ...” she began, only to snap her mouth shut. She remembered Garrett’s words and her own observations, and found she didn’t know what she wanted to say about the marquess. She seemed to lurch between fury and compassion and ... Well, the least said about that, the better.
“Come along, young lady,” she said, rather than allow Crecy to wonder what exactly she had been going to say. “If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I think we can do nothing more than wish this day well behind us and go to bed.”
***
Once Miss Holbrook had stormed from the room, Edward had retired to his study as soon as he could without looking utterly beyond the pale for deserting his guests. God, but would this interminable week never end? Two more days, he reminded himself, just two more days and they’d all be gone and he’d be left in peace. Thank heaven.
Settling himself behind his desk with a large glass of brandy, he felt his lips twitch into an unwilling smile as he remembered Miss Holbrook’s fury. Good Lord, but the Holbrook sisters had the most frightful tempers he’d ever come across, and he’d lived with Violette!
He had to admit to a grudging admiration for her, however. Her rage and indignation had been quite something to behold. Her candour, too, had been a surprise. Most women simpered and fluttered around him, and either expected lavish comments or did their best to shine a light upon their own talents and assets, and put others in the shade. Miss Holbrook, however, had told him to his face what he had first thought of her, almost word for word, and it hadn’t been pretty. A twinge of something that may have been guilt - and possibly even regret - assailed him as he realised he’d been both harsh and unfair.
In truth, he had to admit that she wasn’t devoid of beauty as she had so vehemently judged herself on his account. In fact, once she was out of sight of her beautiful sister, she was really quite lovely. Not a startling beauty, no, but she had the right amount of curves in all the correct places, her eyes sparkled and showed her forthright nature and a readiness to laugh, and her mouth ... He paused and decided he’d already spent quite long enough considering her mouth.
Edward tried to get his brain off the subject of Miss Holbrook, but that recalcitrant organ refused to consider the accounts he ought to be checking, or reading his correspondence, such as it was. Instead it returned to that pitying expression he had seen in her eyes when he’d asked her if marrying Nibley would be enough for her. She believed him a fool for that, and little could he blame her on reflection. He hadn’t really stopped to think what her future might be, though, especially with Mrs Grimble thwarting any possible hopes she might have with each outrageous turban or hat she flaunted, and every single time she opened her ghastly mouth. Yet to think such a fiery and passionate woman should find herself married to a dry old stick like Percy Nibley ...
There was a strange and slightly unsettling feeling in his chest at the idea.
Poor Percy wouldn’t know what hit him.
By this time Edward was aware of a growing sense of disquiet, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the problem. He felt irritated and frustrated and really quite out of sorts. He refilled his glass and gave a huff of frustration. Whatever the problem, the Miss Holbrooks of this world were really not his affair. In two days, they would be gone and his life would return to some semblance of normality.
Whatever the hell that was.
Whatever the future held for the irritating, outspoken creature, it was not his to dwell upon, though he did feel some need to prevent her catching Lord Nibley. After all, Percy was a friend and he owed him loyalty. He should at least make the fellow aware he was being stalked; the poor fool probably didn’t have a clue. He considered the idea of Miss Holbrook married to Percy and found himself unsettled and even somewhat nauseated by the idea. Yes, he should do that, simply out of friendship and for Percy’s sake, of course.
Yes, for Percy’s sake.
He must keep a close eye on Miss Holbrook and her machinations, and put a spoke in her marital wheel at the earliest opportunity.
Chapter 11
“Wherein, Crecy is imprudent – again - and Belle suffers a shock.”
It was sheer bad luck that Edward happened to be walking the stairs at the moment his detested cousin came to call. In usual circumstances, Garrett would simply deny him, but that was hard to do when Edward was so obviously standing in Gabriel’s line of sight.
“Winterbourne,” Gabriel said, that cruel mouth tilted just a little into a mocking smile.
Edward stared back at the fellow with contempt. This man had tried to ensure that Edward remained dead to the world in the filth of the Dials, and when that failed, he’d tried to make the situation rather more permanent. Except that the fool he’d hired had almost killed his sister’s husband when Aubrey had rushed to push Edward out of the way of the bullet.
“Demorte,” he replied, his tone far from welcoming. “What do you want?”
“Want?” the viscount replied, one thick, dark brow arching upwards, a parody of innocent surprise. “My dear fellow, I want nothing from you, I can assure you of that.”
Edward snorted; nothing except his title, his wealth, his estate ... his sister. “Well then, as I certainly want nothing from you, I fail to see what it is you are doing here.”
Gabriel chuckled, and, despite himself, Edward felt a shiver run over his skin. There was a time when Edward had pitied Gabriel. His life had been doomed from the moment he’d been born, the madness in the family only too evident in Gabriel’s father, Edward’s Uncle Thomas. The man had gone out of his way to ensure his only son was every bit as twisted as he was.