Page 4 of Too Wicked for Heaven

She swung her gaze back to the marquess, but his expression had changed, and he was staring at her intently. “Althea? Isabella’s little friend, Kensingham’s niece?” He stroked her hair. “God help me, I should have realized. You always had that honey hair . . . those expressive eyes—” He broke off as she dropped her gaze, embarrassed but absurdly pleased to discover he remembered her.

When he continued, amusement threaded his tone. “You’ve certainly filled out nicely since the last time I saw you.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “Kensingham must be fighting off the suitors with a stick.”

Blood crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. “He’ll be fighting you off with a sword if you don’t leave. Didn’t you hear what I said? Theresa will bring him here, and that won’t do.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t.” He released her, but to her surprise, bent down on one knee. With steady fingers, he began to work her satin skirts free from the rose brambles. “But it will take time for her to find him in this crush, and I can’t leave you trapped for some other rakehell to discover when I can have you free in a moment.”

“No! If Uncle Winston should find us together, I’ll be in trouble!”

He ignored her. “Your panniers are caught fast, and there’s no time to work them loose, so you’ll have to get out of them.” She felt him lift her skirts and petticoat in back. She gasped, but he was already undoing the pannier ribbons. In desperation, she grasped his shoulders, trying to push him away.

Then everything happened at once. The ribbons came loose. Her panniers slipped down, leaving the marquess with her skirts draped over his left shoulder.

And her uncle burst onto the balcony.

She groaned as Uncle Winston roared. She could only imagine what a sight they made, with Nev kneeling half beneath her skirts and her hands clutching his shoulders as if for support. The marquess quickly rose and she stepped out of her cursed panniers. But it hardly mattered that Nev had freed her, since her uncle was striding forward in a fury as Theresa rushed in behind him, wringing her hands.

“You bastard!” Uncle Winston spat. “You damned lecher!”

Nev’s features were calm as he brushed dirt from his breeches with a casual nonchalance that only seemed to infuriate her uncle more. “Good evening, Kensingham.”

How could he stand there so coolly? Didn’t he know what trouble he was in? She forced herself between the two men, alarmed by the murderous glint in her uncle’s eyes. “Please, Uncle Winston, this isn’t what it appears.”

“The hell it isn’t!”

“It was clumsy of me, I know,” she went on, her voice rising in her effort to convince him, “but I fell over that rosebush and caught my panniers in it. Lord Foxworth was merely helping me get free. That’s all it was.”

Her uncle’s jaw tightened. “So Theresa only imagined that she saw him kissing you, did she?”

“I-I … well …”

Her uncle swore, then glowered at the marquess. “I should have expected this of you, Foxworth. Seducing a young woman and getting her to cover your tracks is typical of you.”

“Uncle Winston!” Althea protested, hurt by his characteristic lack of faith in her. “I would never let him⁠—”

“I’m not speaking to you, Althea,” her uncle bit out. “Go back in the ballroom and stay there until Foxworth and I are through.”

Her uncle had often spoken to her in such imperious tones. But this time was different. She’d never seen him this furious, his black eyes aflame and every muscle tight with anger. She could only imagine what would happen if she left the two men alone together.

“Your uncle’s right, Lady Althea,” Foxworth bit out. “This has nothing to do with you. You and I both know you’re innocent of wrongdoing, so ’tis best you leave him and me to sort out our differences.”

She whirled to look at Nev. Innocent of wrongdoing? She was certainly not that. And if he was her uncle’s enemy, why wasn’t he using this as a weapon against Uncle Winston, boasting of the kiss she’d given him?

His eyes glittered as he looked at her, but his words were gentle. “Go on. I’m glad I could assist you, and I hope you won’t hold my . . . ah . . . impertinence against me.”

“I’m not leaving.” She faced her uncle. “Lord Foxworth has been a perfect gentleman, Uncle Winston. I won’t allow you to--”

“A perfect gentleman? Really? Accosting a young woman on a balcony without a chaperone in sight?” Her uncle’s eyes narrowed as he fixed them on the marquess. “Let’s see how much of a gentleman you are tomorrow at dawn, Foxworth.”

Althea and Theresa gasped in unison.

Lord Foxworth’s eyes flickered dangerously. “Don’t be foolish, Kensingham.”

“Foolish!” Uncle Winston took a menacing step forward. “Defending my niece’s honor isn’t foolish. If I don’t do this, you’ll boast to your friends about how you took advantage of my niece almost before my very eyes!”

“That’s ridiculous,” the marquess retorted.

“I demand you meet me at dawn and give me the satisfaction I require!”