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Authors: Christina Brooke
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close to touching her heart. It had not been necessary to attempt to cut her tie with the marquis, thereby endangering her freedom. By now, she’d expected him to have done the job for her, had her declared dead or procured an annulment despite what happened that fateful night.
Now that he was here, in Little Thurston, Steyne stirred such strong feelings inside her, she hardly knew herself. Good God, he’d been here less than a day, and he’d shattered her peace.
Refusing him a dance was all very well, but he was not a man who’d be deterred by polite discouragement. Not if he meant to reclaim her as his wife, as he had every right to do. And now he’d tried to blackmail her into meeting him alone in the dark.…
Before she admitted to her identity, she must be sure he didn’t intend to take her back to her father. If he did want her with him as his wife, wouldn’t he have exposed her pretense at Lady Chard’s?
She ought not to meet him if she wished to preserve the fiction that she didn’t remember who he was, or who she was, for that matter.
But if she didn’t, would he make trouble for her in Little Thurston? He did not seem to her to be a man who made idle threats. Her reputation in this village was nothing to him, after all.
In the corridor that led from the retiring room, she almost collided with Clare. Her friend took her hand and squeezed it. “There you are, Lizzie. I’ve been looking for you.”
Clare’s eyes danced and her cheeks were rosy, a sure sign that Lord Lydgate had charmed her into a high state of excitement. “Lord Lydgate asked me to waltz.”
“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Well. Congratulations.”
“Is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen?” demanded Clare.
Before she could respond, her friend rushed on. “I do not think much of his cousin, do you? No matter how handsome he may be. Lord Steyne has not asked one lady to dance, and he’s barely exchanged two words with anyone besides Lady Chard and the Mowbrays.”
“Most disagreeable,” said Lizzie. “Let us hope his visit is of short duration.”
They were about to enter the antechamber to the ballroom when Lizzie heard a cold, husky voice she recognized at once as Steyne’s. Her hand closed around Clare’s wrist to halt her. She put her fingertip to her lips.
They remained hidden from the antechamber by a heavy velvet curtain, but that didn’t completely muffle the speech that now came to them from the other side.
Without inflexion or heat, Steyne was saying, “… want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
Lydgate said, “Do you think to further your cause by doing your usual impression of an iceberg? That won’t wash, you know.”
“I did not come here to exchange inanities with a parcel of country bumpkins.”
Clare gave an indignant squeak, but Lizzie gripped her wrist tighter as a warning to keep quiet.
Lydgate retorted, “Charming! I can see you will win your way into her good graces all too easily.”
“Would you like to wager on the chance that I won’t?” said Steyne in a lazy drawl.
“Make her fall in love with you? I’d like to see that.”
“Lydgate, you’re so naïve. Love has nothing to do with it.”
Two ladies overtook Lizzie and Clare and went through to the antechamber then, and the gentlemen were obliged to cease their conversation and return to the ballroom.
“Well, of all the arrogance!” Clare said, eyes bright with anger. “Of whom do you think he was speaking, Lizzie? I did not realize the marquis had acquaintance here.”
Lizzie’s fury bloomed red-hot, like an explosion in her head. She’d not the least doubt to whom Steyne referred. The slight emphasis he’d placed on the word “love” seemed significant. As if he meant that some other emotion would have everything to do with his success in charming her. An emotion like—
“Ooh!” she said.
So, Lord Steyne thought it would be easy to win his way into her good graces, did he? Lizzie’s fan struck her
Now that he was here, in Little Thurston, Steyne stirred such strong feelings inside her, she hardly knew herself. Good God, he’d been here less than a day, and he’d shattered her peace.
Refusing him a dance was all very well, but he was not a man who’d be deterred by polite discouragement. Not if he meant to reclaim her as his wife, as he had every right to do. And now he’d tried to blackmail her into meeting him alone in the dark.…
Before she admitted to her identity, she must be sure he didn’t intend to take her back to her father. If he did want her with him as his wife, wouldn’t he have exposed her pretense at Lady Chard’s?
She ought not to meet him if she wished to preserve the fiction that she didn’t remember who he was, or who she was, for that matter.
But if she didn’t, would he make trouble for her in Little Thurston? He did not seem to her to be a man who made idle threats. Her reputation in this village was nothing to him, after all.
In the corridor that led from the retiring room, she almost collided with Clare. Her friend took her hand and squeezed it. “There you are, Lizzie. I’ve been looking for you.”
Clare’s eyes danced and her cheeks were rosy, a sure sign that Lord Lydgate had charmed her into a high state of excitement. “Lord Lydgate asked me to waltz.”
“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Well. Congratulations.”
“Is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen?” demanded Clare.
Before she could respond, her friend rushed on. “I do not think much of his cousin, do you? No matter how handsome he may be. Lord Steyne has not asked one lady to dance, and he’s barely exchanged two words with anyone besides Lady Chard and the Mowbrays.”
“Most disagreeable,” said Lizzie. “Let us hope his visit is of short duration.”
They were about to enter the antechamber to the ballroom when Lizzie heard a cold, husky voice she recognized at once as Steyne’s. Her hand closed around Clare’s wrist to halt her. She put her fingertip to her lips.
They remained hidden from the antechamber by a heavy velvet curtain, but that didn’t completely muffle the speech that now came to them from the other side.
Without inflexion or heat, Steyne was saying, “… want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
Lydgate said, “Do you think to further your cause by doing your usual impression of an iceberg? That won’t wash, you know.”
“I did not come here to exchange inanities with a parcel of country bumpkins.”
Clare gave an indignant squeak, but Lizzie gripped her wrist tighter as a warning to keep quiet.
Lydgate retorted, “Charming! I can see you will win your way into her good graces all too easily.”
“Would you like to wager on the chance that I won’t?” said Steyne in a lazy drawl.
“Make her fall in love with you? I’d like to see that.”
“Lydgate, you’re so naïve. Love has nothing to do with it.”
Two ladies overtook Lizzie and Clare and went through to the antechamber then, and the gentlemen were obliged to cease their conversation and return to the ballroom.
“Well, of all the arrogance!” Clare said, eyes bright with anger. “Of whom do you think he was speaking, Lizzie? I did not realize the marquis had acquaintance here.”
Lizzie’s fury bloomed red-hot, like an explosion in her head. She’d not the least doubt to whom Steyne referred. The slight emphasis he’d placed on the word “love” seemed significant. As if he meant that some other emotion would have everything to do with his success in charming her. An emotion like—
“Ooh!” she said.
So, Lord Steyne thought it would be easy to win his way into her good graces, did he? Lizzie’s fan struck her
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