Page 11 of Redemption of a Marquess

Frustration flashed in Gordon’s eyes and Valan repressed a smile. It seemed some things never changed. When Gordon’s brother unexpectedly became Viscount Dryer twenty-two years ago, it became a point of pride for Gordon that he be recognized as ‘Lord Gordon.’

“I did not know you attended university in Edinburgh, Lord Gordon,” Lady Chastity said.

“My father insisted I study business,” he replied.

“What did you study, Lord Northington?” she asked

“Nothing so illustrious as business. Art and poetry.”

“I do not believe it,” Miss Matheson said.

Everyone looked at her.

“May I ask why?” Valan asked.

“You are not at all romantic.”

“She is perceptive for one so young,” Sir Stirling murmured with a laugh.

Valan regarded her. “As you do not know me, I wonder what brought you to this conclusion.”

“As a woman of sense, Miss Matheson can see that you are not a romantic,” Gordon said.

“You say that as if being unromantic is a bad thing,” Valan maintained a contemplative voice intended to incite him.

Gordon’s mouth thinned. “You wouldn’t understand the difference.”

“His lordship understands the difference perfectly well,” Miss Matheson said.

Once again, everyone looked at her.

“Pray tell, how do you know?” Valan asked.

She offered a smug smile. “As a woman of sense, I can see that you are intelligent enough to understand what romance is—even if you aren’t romantic.”

Valan laughed. “Far be it from me to argue with a woman.”

“Woman?” Gordon said. “She is barely out of the schoolroom.”

Miss Matheson scowled. “I am nineteen, a full-grown woman. I have two younger sisters. One married at eighteen, the other at seventeen. I am an old maid.”

“An old maid?” Valan grimaced. “If you are an old maid, then I am ancient.”

She rolled her eyes. “Age is different for men.”

“How very fortunate for us,” Valan said.

“How fortunate, indeed,” Lady Chastity said in a dry tone.

The orchestra began a waltz. Miss Matheson looked at the dancers, longing in her eyes, then shifted her gaze to Valan. “We learned the waltz at Lady Peddington’s. Will you dance with me?”

“A lady does not ask a gentleman to dance,” he admonished. “She waits for a gentleman to ask her.”

“But a lady might wait forever,” she said.

He tweaked one of her curls. “You will not wait long, trust me, my dear.”

“Be warned, Miss Matheson,” Gordon said, “a true gentleman does not touch a lady’s hair in public.” He bowed. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

She looked to Valan and Gordon’s cheeks reddened.

“Trust me,” Gordon persisted. “We shall dance and have refreshments, then I will see that you arrive home safely.”

“How very entertaining,” Valan drawled. “I believe Gordon hopes to become your protector, my dear. Never fear—” Valan flashed Gordon a smile “—she has a protector.”