Page 14 of The Redemption of the Shrew

She sent for her coach one evening after a long day at the school, and waited on the doorstep. Birds twittered and cheeped their evensong. Leaves rustled in the chestnut tree, heavy with conkers promising autumn fun for the children. Several boys played marbles in the dust, while a few girls from neighboring houses skipped rope. Contentedly, Gloriana pulled a few weeds from the tiny flowerbed beside the footpath.

A curricle-and-pair wheeled into the street. The children scattered before the glossy matched chestnuts. Gloriana raised her eyes and found herself staring into the cold gaze of Philippe de Bellechasse.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped, but he had already driven past. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her.

He pulled up a few houses farther down the street. Oh, perhaps he had recognized her; perhaps he would speak; perhaps he had even come to see her . . .

Philippe jumped down. He ordered his groom to take the curricle to the Angel and arrange for stabling overnight.

Overnight? At . . . at Madame Brun’s house? She gaped at him, transfixed.

He rapped on the door, then turned as if he sensed Gloriana’s stare. Their eyes met for a long moment. He turned away.

He had given her the cut direct.

The worst possible insult. Why? He had never done that before.

The door opened and ten-year-old Elise Brun danced up to the marquis, clutching his coat. “Have you brought sweets?”

The marquis laughed, and then swept her up and kissed her. Next came her brother and mother with more bises in the very French fashion and many happy smiles.

“Philippe, mon cher, what a delightful surprise,” Madame Brun said. “The children have missed you.”

Gloriana felt the blood drain from her face. No wonder Charles’ Gallic features seemed somehow familiar—because Philippe was his father. Madame Brun was no widow. She was the mistress of the Marquis de Bellechasse.

All these years, during which Gloriana had loved Philippe with all her heart, he had been with another woman . . .

Revulsion washed over her, partly at him, but mostly at herself.

Madame Brun spied her watching, smiled, and beckoned. “Ah, Philippe, I must introduce you to my friend. She—”

“No,” he interrupted, “let us go indoors.” He herded the children ahead of him into the house, while Madame blinked, wide-eyed, at Gloriana.

Offering the slightest of shrugs, Gloriana took ahold of herself. She managed a vague sort of smile, and then, thank God, her carriage drew up and bore her away.

Chapter 4

“How could you be so impolite, Philippe?” Sophie asked.

They had dined en famille and sent the children off to bed, during which time Philippe had had plenty of opportunity to form a response to the inevitable questions. Eventually, he settled on the truth.

Or some portion of it. He’d regretted his behavior almost immediately. He would have to get accustomed to meeting Gloriana from time to time.

But not in Islington, curse it. Not just down the street from the house of his sister, Sophie. What the devil was Gloriana doing here?

It didn’t matter. He didn’t intend to apologize to her, but he would muster a degree of civility in future. “I was taken by surprise.”

Sophie huffed. “What sort of excuse is that?”

“A feeble one,” he admitted, not knowing how to explain the feeling that his privacy was violated by her presence. That he had sworn to avoid her as the best method of forgetting her forever. That the sight of her shook him to his very soul. “I am sorry if Miss Warren is your friend, but—”

“Miss Warren? Who is that?”

“The lady whom I so rudely ignored this afternoon.” When she frowned, he added, “Tall for a woman, auburn hair, quite pretty when she isn’t ranting.”

This confused Sophie even more. “She doesn’t rant. And her name is Miss Glow.”

He gave a derisive snort. “A nickname, I suppose.” Her maid had addressed her that way. Your friend—” He regretted his caustic tone of voice. No useful purpose would be served by upsetting Sophie. He cleared his throat. “She is Gloriana Warren, the sister of Lord Garrison.” Since Sophie did not move about in society, this meant nothing to her. “She and I have been acquainted for a number of years. We disagree on many fundamental matters.”