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 Page A
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Rosalie was staring up at him as if she’d just found a knight in shining armor, but Belinda knew the girl couldn’t be more wrong. If he’d ever possessed a sense of chivalry, Trubridge had lost it long ago.
“I believe I detect a trace of American in your accent, Miss Harlow,” he was saying. “Are you from New York? Or Philadelphia? Or perhaps you are one of those exotic creatures from the hinterlands of the Middle West?”
“Middle West?” Rosalie laughed at that very British turn of phrase. “I am from New York, my lord. Schenectady, to be exact. But I’ve been in France for the past year, at finishing school.”
“And how do you find London?” he asked, taking another long, appreciative glance over her person that made Belinda want to kick him.
“Quieter than I’d expected,” Rosalie answered. “I thought the season here would be more exciting.”
“Well, it has barely started,” he told her. “Things don’t really become lively until after the Royal Exhibition, and that opened yesterday. From now until August, you’ll be happy to know, things will move at a pace that’s absolutely frantic. You won’t be able to catch your breath.”
Jervis entered the drawing room before the girl could reply. “Mrs. Harlow has come in her carriage to fetch her daughter, my lady,” he announced, and to Belinda, it was as if angels had begun to sing. “She apologizes most profusely for not coming up, but she’s in a bit of a rush. She just remembered that she is supposed to be taking Rosalie to luncheon with the Dowager Countess of Esmonde, and she fears they will be late.”
“Of course,” she said at once, ignoring Rosalie’s groan of dismay. “Tell Mrs. Harlow that her daughter will be down at once.” She turned to Rosalie as the butler bowed and departed. “Time to be on your way, dearest.”
“Must I? I was hoping to have luncheon with you.”
“As Jervis just informed us, your mother had forgotten you have a prior engagement.”
“Oh, but does it matter? Mama can convey my regrets to Lady Esmonde.”
“That would be rude, Rosalie, and you do not want to be rude to Lady Esmonde.”
“Maybe not, but I think she was quite rude to me when I was there a few days ago. She barks out questions, then answers them for you. And she makes remarks about how healthy American girls look and how nice our teeth are. It’s very disconcerting. And she thinks we all live in teepees and wigwams.”
Trubridge chuckled at that, causing Rosalie to laugh as well.
Belinda, the only one not amused, sent him a withering glance as she took the girl by the elbow and began pulling her toward the door. “Enough of that,” she said, overriding the girl’s protests. “It’s nearly one o’clock, and if you linger here any longer, you’ll be late. Being late to luncheon with a countess would be unthinkable.”
“I don’t see why. We are supposed to be late to balls. Why not lunch? And speaking of balls . . .” She stopped allowing herself to be propelled out of the room and turned toward Trubridge, yanking her arm from Belinda’s grasp. “Are you attending Lady Montcrieffe’s ball tonight, my lord?”
“I am, Miss Harlow,” he said at once, causing Belinda to utter a sound of indignation, for she knew perfectly well Lady Montcrieffe would never invite a man like him to one of her balls. “I shall look forward to seeing you there. And I hope you will allow me the honor of claiming a dance with you?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said before Belinda could think of a way to intervene. “The third waltz on my program is still open.”
Belinda again reached for Rosalie’s arm, but the girl evaded the move and took a step toward Trubridge. “I’ve been saving the third waltz for someone special.”
“I am honored,” he said, taking up her hand, “that you would choose me to be your someone special.”
Belinda almost gagged, but neither of the other two seemed to notice, and she
“I believe I detect a trace of American in your accent, Miss Harlow,” he was saying. “Are you from New York? Or Philadelphia? Or perhaps you are one of those exotic creatures from the hinterlands of the Middle West?”
“Middle West?” Rosalie laughed at that very British turn of phrase. “I am from New York, my lord. Schenectady, to be exact. But I’ve been in France for the past year, at finishing school.”
“And how do you find London?” he asked, taking another long, appreciative glance over her person that made Belinda want to kick him.
“Quieter than I’d expected,” Rosalie answered. “I thought the season here would be more exciting.”
“Well, it has barely started,” he told her. “Things don’t really become lively until after the Royal Exhibition, and that opened yesterday. From now until August, you’ll be happy to know, things will move at a pace that’s absolutely frantic. You won’t be able to catch your breath.”
Jervis entered the drawing room before the girl could reply. “Mrs. Harlow has come in her carriage to fetch her daughter, my lady,” he announced, and to Belinda, it was as if angels had begun to sing. “She apologizes most profusely for not coming up, but she’s in a bit of a rush. She just remembered that she is supposed to be taking Rosalie to luncheon with the Dowager Countess of Esmonde, and she fears they will be late.”
“Of course,” she said at once, ignoring Rosalie’s groan of dismay. “Tell Mrs. Harlow that her daughter will be down at once.” She turned to Rosalie as the butler bowed and departed. “Time to be on your way, dearest.”
“Must I? I was hoping to have luncheon with you.”
“As Jervis just informed us, your mother had forgotten you have a prior engagement.”
“Oh, but does it matter? Mama can convey my regrets to Lady Esmonde.”
“That would be rude, Rosalie, and you do not want to be rude to Lady Esmonde.”
“Maybe not, but I think she was quite rude to me when I was there a few days ago. She barks out questions, then answers them for you. And she makes remarks about how healthy American girls look and how nice our teeth are. It’s very disconcerting. And she thinks we all live in teepees and wigwams.”
Trubridge chuckled at that, causing Rosalie to laugh as well.
Belinda, the only one not amused, sent him a withering glance as she took the girl by the elbow and began pulling her toward the door. “Enough of that,” she said, overriding the girl’s protests. “It’s nearly one o’clock, and if you linger here any longer, you’ll be late. Being late to luncheon with a countess would be unthinkable.”
“I don’t see why. We are supposed to be late to balls. Why not lunch? And speaking of balls . . .” She stopped allowing herself to be propelled out of the room and turned toward Trubridge, yanking her arm from Belinda’s grasp. “Are you attending Lady Montcrieffe’s ball tonight, my lord?”
“I am, Miss Harlow,” he said at once, causing Belinda to utter a sound of indignation, for she knew perfectly well Lady Montcrieffe would never invite a man like him to one of her balls. “I shall look forward to seeing you there. And I hope you will allow me the honor of claiming a dance with you?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said before Belinda could think of a way to intervene. “The third waltz on my program is still open.”
Belinda again reached for Rosalie’s arm, but the girl evaded the move and took a step toward Trubridge. “I’ve been saving the third waltz for someone special.”
“I am honored,” he said, taking up her hand, “that you would choose me to be your someone special.”
Belinda almost gagged, but neither of the other two seemed to notice, and she
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