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Authors: Allison Lane
Tags: Regency Romance
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her eyes; her gaze darted about the room, studiously avoiding him; her words bumped into one another, becoming so garbled he could barely follow her conversation; and her coloring brightened and faded, sputtering like a badly trimmed wick.
Either she was terrified of him, or the excitement of the evening was too much for her. So he introduced her to Edwin. If anyone could calm her down, Edwin could.
He grimaced. In the two minutes since their last exchange, Mary had worked her way to the far side of the room. He followed.
“Thank goodness Lord Northrup finally returned,” said a horse-faced woman as he passed. “He will keep Lady Northrup in line. And about time.” Creases of disapproval were permanently etched into her face, but the words hinted that Mary was not a pillar of the community.
Pressing on, he passed Miss Hardaway, who had been the most vicious village gossip since before his birth.
“Mourning. Hmph!” she snorted at her companion. “She did not care a whit for Northrup – not that any of us did. No one would have thought twice if she had refused to mourn him, but she pounced on the chance to escape scrutiny for a year.” Another snort split the air. “But she was mistaken if she thought it would put her conduct beyond censure. We all know she visited Captain Stone twice a week for more than a month.”
“But he was recovering from injuries,” protested her friend.
“Not by then. He returned to the Peninsula when he left here.”
James bit back a retort. It sounded like John was far from Mary’s only paramour – not that her morals were his concern. But he had to wonder why Isaac was courting her if everyone knew about her liaisons. It didn’t jibe with the man who had once been his friend.
Enough! They had business to discuss once he cleared her of complicity in John’s death – he could not picture his response if she was guilty.
But she would be innocent. The fact that everyone in the room knew about her fall from grace eliminated any motive. If John had no leverage, she had no grievance. So he could solicit her help to find the killer.
Get this over with so you can relax.
But he could not reach her. Every time he paused to respond to a greeting, she slipped farther away. Her unwillingness to face him exasperated him beyond bearing. But not until dinner did he realize her true purpose. He was seated between Amelia and Caroline, with Harry and Edwin on their other sides.
Matchmaker! Damn!
His own purpose had blinded him to hers. How could he have missed the signs? He would have to step as carefully as he had done in London. Marriage had to wait until he had finished with the past. But even if he were ready to wed, he would never choose the Northrup girls. They might be fine young ladies, but they seemed little more than children. So he set himself to be scrupulously polite but aloof. It was an act he had perfected.
He couldn’t really blame Mary, he decided over the second course. He had haunted the Marriage Mart for two months, using his spurious search for a wife as an excuse to avoid Ridgeway. She had probably seen his name in the society columns. And he would have to marry soon. A title carried many responsibilities, one of which was to produce an heir.
But he would not look in London when the time came. He wanted a wife who could also be a friend, one that saw beyond his wealth and title. The girls making their bows had been giggly and empty-headed, unable to converse intelligently on any topic beyond fashion and gossip. Many of them hung on his arm despite overt wariness over his kinship to John. And they were so young, so ignorant, so incredibly naïve…
Perhaps his travels had aged him unduly, but every one of the chits made him feel as old as Methuselah. Never mind that he was only three-and-thirty. It was a problem that would only worsen with time, so he had to wind up this business soon.
The ladies retired, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Conversation grew
Either she was terrified of him, or the excitement of the evening was too much for her. So he introduced her to Edwin. If anyone could calm her down, Edwin could.
He grimaced. In the two minutes since their last exchange, Mary had worked her way to the far side of the room. He followed.
“Thank goodness Lord Northrup finally returned,” said a horse-faced woman as he passed. “He will keep Lady Northrup in line. And about time.” Creases of disapproval were permanently etched into her face, but the words hinted that Mary was not a pillar of the community.
Pressing on, he passed Miss Hardaway, who had been the most vicious village gossip since before his birth.
“Mourning. Hmph!” she snorted at her companion. “She did not care a whit for Northrup – not that any of us did. No one would have thought twice if she had refused to mourn him, but she pounced on the chance to escape scrutiny for a year.” Another snort split the air. “But she was mistaken if she thought it would put her conduct beyond censure. We all know she visited Captain Stone twice a week for more than a month.”
“But he was recovering from injuries,” protested her friend.
“Not by then. He returned to the Peninsula when he left here.”
James bit back a retort. It sounded like John was far from Mary’s only paramour – not that her morals were his concern. But he had to wonder why Isaac was courting her if everyone knew about her liaisons. It didn’t jibe with the man who had once been his friend.
Enough! They had business to discuss once he cleared her of complicity in John’s death – he could not picture his response if she was guilty.
But she would be innocent. The fact that everyone in the room knew about her fall from grace eliminated any motive. If John had no leverage, she had no grievance. So he could solicit her help to find the killer.
Get this over with so you can relax.
But he could not reach her. Every time he paused to respond to a greeting, she slipped farther away. Her unwillingness to face him exasperated him beyond bearing. But not until dinner did he realize her true purpose. He was seated between Amelia and Caroline, with Harry and Edwin on their other sides.
Matchmaker! Damn!
His own purpose had blinded him to hers. How could he have missed the signs? He would have to step as carefully as he had done in London. Marriage had to wait until he had finished with the past. But even if he were ready to wed, he would never choose the Northrup girls. They might be fine young ladies, but they seemed little more than children. So he set himself to be scrupulously polite but aloof. It was an act he had perfected.
He couldn’t really blame Mary, he decided over the second course. He had haunted the Marriage Mart for two months, using his spurious search for a wife as an excuse to avoid Ridgeway. She had probably seen his name in the society columns. And he would have to marry soon. A title carried many responsibilities, one of which was to produce an heir.
But he would not look in London when the time came. He wanted a wife who could also be a friend, one that saw beyond his wealth and title. The girls making their bows had been giggly and empty-headed, unable to converse intelligently on any topic beyond fashion and gossip. Many of them hung on his arm despite overt wariness over his kinship to John. And they were so young, so ignorant, so incredibly naïve…
Perhaps his travels had aged him unduly, but every one of the chits made him feel as old as Methuselah. Never mind that he was only three-and-thirty. It was a problem that would only worsen with time, so he had to wind up this business soon.
The ladies retired, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Conversation grew
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