False Angel by Edith Layton

Author:Edith Layton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

NINE

It was undeniably an unfortunate trait, he thought as he handed his cloak to a footman, for a lady to be carelessly cruel to her underlings. And certainly, such behavior might well signify a certain overall callousness in the lady’s personality. But then, there were worse things, the Marquess of Severne thought as he greeted his hostess. There were a great many far worse things he decided, as he took the Lady Leonora’s hand, than simply being a bit thoughtless in one’s dealings with some insipid, insignificant little chit that had been landed upon one by an act of charity by one’s family.

As he spoke with her, and heard her delighted, musical laughter, he believed every unspoken word of his silent rationale. As he gazed down into her lovely face, so clearly filled with relief and joy at his presence at her ball, so pleased to reflect back his own smiles, it was easy for him to forget all his disappointment and chagrin with her. But it was a brief respite. No sooner did she reluctantly turn her sunny countenance away from him to greet her next guest, than the shadows of doubt descended again.

For after he’d greeted Talwin and the viscountess and Leonora, of course, there was Lady Sybil and Lord Benjamin, and then, standing a little apart from the rest as though even here she feared a sudden blow for her presumption, was Miss Annabelle Greyling. She, too, greeted him with an immediate look of sheerest joy. But that expression was as unfamiliar to her face as it was transient. In a second she had recovered herself and she wore a look of trepidation as she tentatively offered him her hand, as though she believed her elation would bring punishment upon her.

When he left the reception line, the Marquess of Severne acknowledged several old acquaintances, accepted a glass of champagne from a wandering footman, and ignored the steady stares and sibilant hiss of whispers that his appearance always caused in the section reserved for the aged, infirm, and subservient the seated dowagers, chaperones, and companions who were ranged against the wall.

“We were fashionably late,” a familiar hoarse voice said at his side, “but you were, as always, fashionably later. How I wish I had your timing, my dear Severne. Now Regina, my only love, pray do not echo my sentiments, or my feelings shall be wounded. It is enough that this creature comes loping into the room like a wolf upon the flock and takes all the attention away from me, it would be more than I could bear if you were to begin to entertain fantasies about certain other rumored aspects of his excellent timing as well. I give you good evening, Joss. I knew you had arrived from the moment the wallflowers began to sound like a snakepit at feeding time.”

“Good evening, Jason,” the marquess replied lightly, giving his friend the Duke of Torquay his hand but not his attention.

For, “Good evening, Duchess,” he breathed next, taking the lady’s hand and never taking his eyes from her face.

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