“Diana has tried, Galahad, but their personalities have always clashed so her words are hitting a brick wall. And Minerva is of the opinion that Vee is a grown woman who needs to come to her own conclusions rather than be nagged into them, as that would only entrench the problem. She is convinced that the more time Vee spends with Dorchester, the more he will repel her naturally in his own inimitable way. Whereas I am worried that if we leave it unchecked, the worst will happen and he’ll make her his viscountess. Especially as poor Vee is worried about being left on the shelf and has always had the tendency to make allowances for unworthy males. She spent years giving her feckless father the benefit of the doubt after he abandoned her. While both her sisters rightly despised him for leaving them in poverty, Vee still held out hope that the wretch might return changed.”
“People don’t change.” Gal’s mother had believed his own feckless father’s lies on that score and had lived to rue the day. Twice. That second abandonment had been catastrophic—for both his mother and him.
“Of course they don’t!” Olivia dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. “But after that vile Lord Argyll pursued her tirelessly last year, flirted outrageously until he convinced her that he loved her, and suddenly lost interest when greener grass beckoned, she has become rather jaded and disillusioned about men. Disproportionately so in my humble opinion, as that libertine Argyll was always a dud, too, but I suppose he did break her heart and hearts take a while to mend.”
Gal had loathed the socially and politically ambitious Argyll morethan he disliked Dorchester, and all that mutual flirting had made his blood boil, hence he’d made a concerted effort to avoid the pair of them by avoiding most of last season. When he’d learned the predator had ruthlessly transferred his affections from Venus to an influential government minister’s daughter, he had been relieved but not surprised. But he suddenly hated the scoundrel more now that Olivia claimed he had broken her heart. “She had a lucky escape with that one.” Argyll had never been able to keep his pecker in his pants, and his recent advantageous marriage hadn’t curtailed that.
“We all agree—but Argyll was the straw that broke the camel’s back and the reason she took herself to the wallflower chairs. Although I cannot say that I blame her for removing herself from the fray for a while. I suppose that passionless, dead loss Dorchester seems like a refreshing change from all the seducers who see her as naught but a juicy fruit that is ripe for the picking.”
Gal glanced her way again and took in the still subtly staring males all around her and was suddenly fuming at the rest of his sex because he knew exactly what they were thinking, and none of it was proper. Knowing the arrogance of some of them, they wouldn’t have been able to keep those lustful thoughts to themselves, either, and even if they had, Venus was no fool. She would know exactly what they were all thinking, so was it any wonder she had become jaded if she had been bombarded with all that every time she dared to wear a nice dress?
It also explained why her gowns normally erred more on the side of prim than not. Those sensible garments had nothing to do with her character and everything to do with theirs. That Dorchester was oblivious to her physical charms no doubt accounted for some of the reason he appealed to her so. For all his jumped-up pompousness, at least she would feel safe around him.
But that certainly wasn’t anything to do with Gal.
“I’m erring on the side of Minerva here. Better to allow whatever is going on to run its course. Miss Venus is as smart as a whip. She’ll workit out.” He sincerely hoped that she would and that that would be the end of it.
Instantly that hope was dashed, because Olivia wasn’t anywhere near done with him. “You know Vee is selling herself short.” In case he tried to escape, she threaded her arm through his, tight. “She has it in her stubborn head that because she is a bookish sort, only a bookish sort will do, when we all know that opposites attract, and she misguidedly thinks that they have fundamental things in common—as if those flimsy things are suddenly the be-all and end-all. She is on the cusp of making a hideous and irrevocable mistake. We cannot allow her to marry him. The family needs your help in that, Galahad…” She stared up beseeching and he knew he was being played by a master. Lady Olivia Peabody was a force to be reckoned with at the best of times, but when she put her mind to something, she used both fair means and foul and put her shoulder behind it. “Helpusto helphersee sense.”
He shook his head as he extricated himself from her grasp and raised his palms before she resorted to outright blackmail. “As much as I concur with all your concerns regarding her beau, Olivia, I am not the man for that job. She suffers me for Giles’s sake and nothing more. Besides, Miss Venus and I have never had the sort of relationship where my advice about anything would even be tolerated, let alone welcomed.”
“More’s the pity as you’ve always had a sound head on those distracting broad shoulders.”
She looked him up and down this time like a piece of prime horseflesh up for purchase. “Do I at least have your promise that you will hint at your disapproval if the opportunity presents itself?”
“Of course.” Because hinting that she was an idiot for fancying herself shackled to that dullard Dorchester for all eternity would be the perfect way to pour oil on those troubled waters! The best way to build some bridges between them before he opened his rowdy homage to viceright on the pious Saint Venus’s doorstep! “I’ll make some subtle hints of my disapprovalifthe opportunity presents itself.” So subtle it would take the world’s biggest magnifying glass for her to notice them.
“Good,” said Olivia, dragging him toward her charge with surprising strength that belied her diminutive stature. “Let us create an opportunity. Ask her to dance. Because she rarely dances nowadays, and a crowded dance floor is always an excellent place to discuss delicate matters.”
Chapter Four
I measured myself again this morning and am sad to report that my dratted bosoms still refuse to stop growing…
—from the diary of Miss Venus Merriwell, aged 15
“The current problems on the Continent all rest squarely on the shoulders of bad governance.” Lord Dorchester had been joined by his favorite cronies and was now waxing lyrical about the spate of revolutions that had occurred this year across the Channel. It was one of his favorite current topics, so Vee felt petty for being so fed up with it. “France still isn’t fully over Napoleon despite their sensible readoption of the monarchy because…”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Olivia caught her elbow, relieving her of the chore of listening, only for her to turn and come face-to-face with Galahad, who typically looked more handsome in his perfectly tailored evening clothes than any man had a right to. The cut of his coat drew her eyes to the vexing wretch’s broad shoulders and almost caused her to stare at them in appreciation—which vexed her further. “But I have a dashing young man here eager to steal a spot on your dance card.”
He didn’t look the least bit eager. To be frank, he looked as horrified by the suggestion as she was. “Oh… um…” She was instantly flustered because they had categorically never danced together before. Never sat beside each other at a dinner table or coffee table, for thatmatter. Or even loitered within ten feet of each other anywhere. They certainly hadn’t ever managed a conversation longer than a few minutes in all the years she had known him. Had never even touched since the night she had attacked him—not that she could recall at any rate—so the prospect of three whole minutes making polite small talk during the enforced intimacy of a dance was unsettling. Especially as she was still smarting at his mocking the state of the orphanage the other day with his much-too-dismissive eyes.
“I am not sure I have any left.” Beyond the nineteen remaining out of the twenty listed.
“Nonsense!” Olivia snatched the card from her wrist before Vee could stop her, then to her further horror opened it where he could see all the glaring empty spaces still left upon it—because she had only granted the one. “Which do you fancy, Galahad?”
“That one.” He jabbed at the country dance directly beneath the imminent waltz for which she had penciled in Lord Dorchester. Remembering his manners, he inclined his head and smiled politely. “If that suits you, Miss Venus.”
“Of course.” She bobbed an insincere curtsy, making sure her wayward eyes never ventured anywhere near his shoulders on the way up or down. “I shall look forward to it.” About as much as she looked forward to losing all her teeth to old age and being forced to eat nothing but mashed food till she died.
“Splendid!” Olivia beamed at them both. “I shall leave you bright young things to your conversation.” She shot Galahad a pointed glare. “And your dance.” With that parting salvo, and with a wicked glint in her calculating blue eyes, Olivia bolted, leaving them standing together awkwardly.
“You really don’t have to dance with me.” He threw her that lifeline the moment their tormentor was out of earshot. “Although I think it might be good for both of us if you did.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because…” He huffed out a sigh that made him look boyish andsomehow more appealing. “I reckon it’s time we buried the hatchet, Miss Venus.”
“And why would we want to do that?” It seemed daft to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about when there had always been not so much a rift between them as a gaping impasse.
