Read Online When the Marquess Met His Match by Laura Lee Guhrke - An American Heiress in London 01 - When the Marquess Met His Match - Free Book Online
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that, Belinda made the only reply her conscience would allow. “War it is, then.”
Before he could respond, Jervis entered the drawing room. “Miss Rosalie Harlow,” he announced.
At once, Belinda’s determination gave way to dismay. She turned toward the doorway, but it was too late to stop Rosalie from entering the room. “Oh, last night was such a disaster, I just had to come and tell you—oh!”
She stopped, noticing that Belinda was not alone, and as Trubridge turned toward the door, her eyes widened, and her lips parted a little. When she lifted a fluttering hand to her throat and her parted lips formed a smile, Belinda’s dismay deepened into panic. Oh, no, she thought, no, no, no.
“I didn’t know that you had company,” Rosalie told her without even bothering to glance in her direction. “I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t committed some awful breach of British etiquette.”
Belinda could not think of a reply. She could only stare, helpless, as the girl tilted her chin down, still smiling, and lifted her gaze to Trubridge’s face in a way that was openly admiring.
Belinda wanted to take her by the arm and haul her out of the room. A lamb like Rosalie in the same room with a predator like Trubridge was a disaster waiting to happen, and she cursed herself for not making that fact clear to the butler yesterday. To make matters worse, when she glanced at the marquess, his profile told her just what he was thinking.
His thick brown lashes lowered as he studied the girl, giving her the same appreciative thoroughness he’d given Belinda the day before. He bowed, and when he straightened, his mouth was curved in that devastating, deceptively boyish smile that would make any girl’s heart sing.
A fierce wave of protectiveness rose up within Belinda. Her lip curled, and only just in time was she able to catch back a most unladylike snarl.
“Not at all,” Trubridge answered the girl, taking advantage of Belinda’s silence to step into the breach. “An interruption as charming as this is always forgivable.” He turned to Belinda. “My dear Lady Featherstone, where have you been hiding this lovely creature?”
She glared at him; but, of course, he was impervious to her hostility.
“Shall you introduce me to your friend?” he asked, everything in his amused face daring her to refuse.
Insufferable man. She could not reject his request for an introduction when he was standing in her own drawing room, and both of them knew it. Left with no choice, she turned to Rosalie. “Miss Harlow, may I present the Marquess of Trubridge to you? Lord Trubridge, Miss Rosalie Harlow.”
If she hoped the heavy disapproval that laced her voice would have any effect on Rosalie, she was disappointed. In fact, it was doubtful the girl even noticed.
“Lord Trubridge?” she cried with lively surprise. “Heavens, you are not at all like I pictured you.” She turned to Belinda. “I don’t understand. I thought you said he was—”
She stopped just in time, heeding Belinda’s frantic shake of the head, and returned her attention to the man before her. “My lord,” she said, remembering her manners and returning his bow with a curtsy. “How do you do?”
Trubridge, of course, couldn’t let the moment pass unremarked. “It sounds as if Lady Featherstone has been talking about me,” he drawled. “How indiscreet of her. What has she been saying, Miss Harlow? Do tell me.”
Rosalie laughed. “I can’t. I’d be breaking a confidence.”
“Ah, but confidences are made to be broken. Isn’t that right, Lady Featherstone?”
Belinda tensed, but thankfully, he didn’t press the point. Instead, he stepped forward, moving closer to the girl.
Belinda was quick to move with him, protective, watchful, and terribly afraid. She strove to think of a way to get Trubridge out of here before he could begin working his wiles on Rosalie, though the expression on the girl’s face told her it might already be too late.
Before he could respond, Jervis entered the drawing room. “Miss Rosalie Harlow,” he announced.
At once, Belinda’s determination gave way to dismay. She turned toward the doorway, but it was too late to stop Rosalie from entering the room. “Oh, last night was such a disaster, I just had to come and tell you—oh!”
She stopped, noticing that Belinda was not alone, and as Trubridge turned toward the door, her eyes widened, and her lips parted a little. When she lifted a fluttering hand to her throat and her parted lips formed a smile, Belinda’s dismay deepened into panic. Oh, no, she thought, no, no, no.
“I didn’t know that you had company,” Rosalie told her without even bothering to glance in her direction. “I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t committed some awful breach of British etiquette.”
Belinda could not think of a reply. She could only stare, helpless, as the girl tilted her chin down, still smiling, and lifted her gaze to Trubridge’s face in a way that was openly admiring.
Belinda wanted to take her by the arm and haul her out of the room. A lamb like Rosalie in the same room with a predator like Trubridge was a disaster waiting to happen, and she cursed herself for not making that fact clear to the butler yesterday. To make matters worse, when she glanced at the marquess, his profile told her just what he was thinking.
His thick brown lashes lowered as he studied the girl, giving her the same appreciative thoroughness he’d given Belinda the day before. He bowed, and when he straightened, his mouth was curved in that devastating, deceptively boyish smile that would make any girl’s heart sing.
A fierce wave of protectiveness rose up within Belinda. Her lip curled, and only just in time was she able to catch back a most unladylike snarl.
“Not at all,” Trubridge answered the girl, taking advantage of Belinda’s silence to step into the breach. “An interruption as charming as this is always forgivable.” He turned to Belinda. “My dear Lady Featherstone, where have you been hiding this lovely creature?”
She glared at him; but, of course, he was impervious to her hostility.
“Shall you introduce me to your friend?” he asked, everything in his amused face daring her to refuse.
Insufferable man. She could not reject his request for an introduction when he was standing in her own drawing room, and both of them knew it. Left with no choice, she turned to Rosalie. “Miss Harlow, may I present the Marquess of Trubridge to you? Lord Trubridge, Miss Rosalie Harlow.”
If she hoped the heavy disapproval that laced her voice would have any effect on Rosalie, she was disappointed. In fact, it was doubtful the girl even noticed.
“Lord Trubridge?” she cried with lively surprise. “Heavens, you are not at all like I pictured you.” She turned to Belinda. “I don’t understand. I thought you said he was—”
She stopped just in time, heeding Belinda’s frantic shake of the head, and returned her attention to the man before her. “My lord,” she said, remembering her manners and returning his bow with a curtsy. “How do you do?”
Trubridge, of course, couldn’t let the moment pass unremarked. “It sounds as if Lady Featherstone has been talking about me,” he drawled. “How indiscreet of her. What has she been saying, Miss Harlow? Do tell me.”
Rosalie laughed. “I can’t. I’d be breaking a confidence.”
“Ah, but confidences are made to be broken. Isn’t that right, Lady Featherstone?”
Belinda tensed, but thankfully, he didn’t press the point. Instead, he stepped forward, moving closer to the girl.
Belinda was quick to move with him, protective, watchful, and terribly afraid. She strove to think of a way to get Trubridge out of here before he could begin working his wiles on Rosalie, though the expression on the girl’s face told her it might already be too late.
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