Marcus’s mouth compressed at the obvious sarcasm, but there was more puzzlement than pique in his voice as he studied her pale face once again. “What the devil is wrong, Lady Augusta?”
“The fact that you insist on hovering about my person, sir.” Her mouth set in a prim line. “It is becoming quite tiresome.”
His face turned even paler than hers. “Tiresome?” he repeated softly.
“I should imagine you would prefer to be with Lady Stansfield or—what was the name of the opera dancer?”
“Hell’s teeth, isthatwhat is upsetting you?”
Augusta’s lips curled in a mock smile. “Why in heaven’s name would that upset me, sir?” she inquired. “I couldn’t care less how you choose to amuse yourself, or with whom. What I do care about is having you make sport of serious matters by pretending to care about aught but pleasure. I have no idea why you persist in trying to convince me that your concern for my investigation is anything deeper than mere whim.”
A flare of anger flashed in his eyes. “It is clear you have been listening to the gossips again and giving their wagging tongues far more credence than they deserve. Perhaps it is your intellect that should be ridiculed, not mine, for it appears right now that your brain is no bigger than a pea if you still insist on taking such rumors seriously.”
“Well at least I try to exercise my brain, however small, rather than some other parts of my anatomy.” A pause. “Common sense says that where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Marcus sought to control the sparking of his temper. “The only thing smoky is the idiotic way you are acting. I thought we had come to some understanding regarding the sorts of accusations you are hurling in my face, but evidently we have not. Come, let us take a stroll in the garden and discuss this in the rational manner I have come to expect from you.”
She refused his hand. “I thought you didn’t want or expect rational behavior from a female.”
There were several moments of silence. “I think, Lady Augusta, that you owe me some sort of explanation for this outburst. I can’t quite believe that it has only to do with what the tabbies are bandying about.”
“Believe what you wish, sir, but even you can’t be so vain as to not realize when your presence has become distasteful. Or are you truly so puffed up with conceit that you think every female is waiting for a chance to fling herself at your feet?”
His jaw worked but before he could make a reply, another gentleman approached.
“I believe we are engaged for the next dance, Lady Augusta, but if I am interrupting …” His brow rose a fraction as he regarded Marcus’s rigid features.
“Not at all,” replied Augusta, fixing the gentleman a brilliant smile. “Lord Dunham was just taking his leave.” She extendedher hand to him and there was nothing for the earl to do but step aside.
He watched them walk away to the far end of the dance floor where the next set was forming. If Lady Augusta wished to add to her growing collection of colorful language, she would have been well advised to stay for a moment, he fumed, silently giving vent to a number of words that would have scorched the ears of many of his male friends. He turned abruptly to go in search of some champagne to quench his anger, but after several steps, he paused.
The music had started, the couples were moving in tune with the melody, but something was definitely off key in all of this.
His gaze sought Augusta and her current partner for a moment.What the devil was she up to?He suddenly recalled that this wasn’t the first time this particular gentleman had shown her a marked attention. With a slight clenching of his fists, he realized that he was the fellow with whom she had been waltzing the other evening.
Why, if he hadn’t known her better, he would have thought she was engaging in the same sort of behavior most females indulged in when trying to attach the interest of an eligible and attractive gentleman.
And perhaps that was a possibility. There was no question that the gentleman was eligible and attractive. However, he was also something else.
He was one of the two names left on her list of suspects.
An involuntary snort escaped his lips. Romantic infatuation indeed! Bloody hell, the chit had some sort of devious scheme planned, he was sure of it! She had already tried housebreaking and thievery. Was abduction and torture next? After all, she had a rather large footman at her beck and call, so there were a number of possibilities. …
Marcus found that he was suddenly in great need of that champagne.
As he tossed back a long swallow, his thoughts turned to the heated exchange that had just taken place. Or perhaps quarrel was a better term for it, since it had quickly escalated into a nasty war of words. His breath came out in a sharp sigh. They had certainly crossed verbal swords in the past, but he had thought that a truce had been reached some time ago.
In fact, if truth be told, he thought it more than that. On reflection, he found he would have described it as an understanding of sorts. While they might not agree on a number of things, they seemed to have developed a mutual respect for each other. In a word, they had become … friends.
Or so he had thought.
That made her sharp words even more cutting. She, of all people, should know that the picture of him painted by the broad brushes of innuendo was hardly an accurate portrait of his real self.
Marcus gulped down the rest of his champagne and reached for another glass as a righteous anger welled up inside him. It seemed he was sadly mistaken to think she possessed more sense and intelligence than most people of his acquaintance. So if she wished him out of her life, he should be happy to oblige her. He had made every possible effort to look out for Edwin Peabody’s sister, but if she was too stubborn and too opinionated to accept his help, he should feel himself well rid of an onerous obligation in the bargain.
And yet, pride warred with some other emotion as he set the now-empty glass down with a thump. Recalling their former skirmishes, he could picture the fire in her eyes, so intense that the hazel hue would blaze with amber sparks when she was really stirred to anger. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. She didn’t hide her feelings very well. It was those expressive eyesthat gave her away. And tonight the look in them had not been that of true anger or indignation, but something infinitely more complex—and vulnerable.
What it was, he couldn’t begin to fathom. With a harried sigh, he gave up trying to make sense of it and stalked from the room, muttering darkly under his breath.
