The Reluctant Marquess by Maggi Andersen

Author:Maggi Andersen [Andersen, Maggi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, historical, Fiction, Regency, General, Erotica, cookie429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9781908483096
Google: xPnMygAACAAJ
Amazon: 1908483091
Publisher: Atlasbooks Dist Serv
Published: 2012-03-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Two weeks passed in strained silence, their argument never mentioned. Charity met Robert for dinner every evening, and he escorted her to social events. He did just what she demanded of him, complimenting her gown and remaining by her side for most of the evening. It was as if they performed for an audience, and then went their separate ways, he to his friends at the club, her to her new friends at card parties and the like. She had never wished for this shabby pretense and railed against it. But what could she do? She could hardly try seducing him again, having failed so miserably before. The thought of a rebuff was too painful to contemplate.

By the third week, she feared she would explode and do something outrageous, just to gain his attention and make him look at her as if he really saw her.

They attended a soiree, and Charity found, despite her low spirits or perhaps because of them, she warmed at the sight of what had become familiar and friendly faces in the crowd.

“My, that’s a pretty gown you’re wearing.” Mrs Summerton, a newly married woman of a similar age came eagerly to greet her.

“Where did your dressmaker find such exquisite silk damask?”

Charity smoothed the folds of the elaborate gold damask gown. She felt quite grand with two feathers in her piled-up hair. “Paris, I believe,” she said with a smile.

“But of course!” Mrs Summerton cried.

Mr Summerton raised Charity’s hand to his lips. “A pleasure to see you, Lady St Malin.” He smiled apologetically. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to talk fripperies with my wife.” He took Robert’s arm, and they strolled off, deep in conversation. A reference to the horse races drifted back with the tangy odor of snuff.

Charity looked after them. This would all be so wonderful if things were right between her and Robert. She sighed as Lady Langden, who had become a firm friend, approached. She would no doubt wish to discuss the latest scandals and on-dits, and Charity would listen politely, her lips remaining firmly closed.

As Charity wandered the ballroom on Lady Langden’s arm, she saw a small crowd had gathered at the door, around a tall, fair young woman.

“Who is that lady?” she asked.

“That’s Mrs Marchant.” Amelia Langden’s brows rose. “Formerly Millicent Burrowdale.”

The young woman, wearing a fashionable, sheer muslin chemise dress, which clung and revealed much of her excellent figure, emerged from the crowd on her husband’s arm. He was considerably shorter than his wife, and stout, his waistcoat straining over his stomach.

Charity watched as Millicent approached Robert and playfully tapped his arm with her fan. He bowed, spoke briefly to them both and moved on. “She’s very beautiful, and she knows Robert.” Charity suffered a rush of jealousy that heated her cheeks.

Amelia tugged on her arm, turning her in another direction. “Let’s sit over there.”

They took a glass of champagne from a waiter and settled on two gilt chairs beside a potted rhododendron.

“You will probably hear this at some point,” Amelia said.

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