Page 42 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“Sad, but true,” Alice Stowe said. “However, one learns to like one’s spouse well enough.”

“As you will surely do, Marianne,” said her aunt.

Marianne made a face and turned to Gloriana. “In any event, I am sad that you will not be my sister. Might we perhaps be friends?”

Gloriana leapt at this opening, despite the uneasy expression on Mrs. Apsley’s face. “How very kind. Indeed, we may. Please do call me Gloriana.”

Marianne smiled. “Thank you! And you shall call me Marianne.”

An excellent start, Gloriana thought. Perhaps she might get a chance to search for the book sooner than she’d anticipated.

Before they left, Alice invited the two ladies to her salon the following evening. “Nothing formal. Some music and cards, and lively discussion of course.” They accepted, for Alice’s invitations were prized. She never failed to include intelligent, well-informed guests. Both Gloriana and Philippe had attended her salons for years.

Oh, no, thought Gloriana. Riding home in the coach, she said, “I suppose you’re asking Philippe de Bellechasse too.”

“He has a standing invitation. He’s entertaining, and you’ll be there too, which makes it even better. It’s so much fun watching you argue with him.”

Gloriana’s heart sank. She couldn’t bear to be a hypocrite anymore. “I may not argue at all. I’ve come to the conclusion that some of his ideas are correct.”

Alice clapped a hand to her breast. “You, agree with Philippe? The end of the world must be nigh.”

Gloriana huffed. “I’ve had enough of arguments. I’m all for a peaceful life.”

“Dear me. That will never do. We shall see how Philippe takes the news.”

The next evening, in a room full of guests, he took it with such a smug expression that Gloriana longed to smack him. “It was inevitable,” he said. Several people tittered, including Alice.

“I didn’t say I agreed with everything,” Gloriana retorted.

“In due time, you shall.” He winked.

Appalled and, God help her, titillated at the same time, she summoned every remnant of her icy, aristocratic pride. “On a sunny day in Hades.”

More laughter.

“Touché, my dear Miss Warren.” He kissed his fingers to her and turned away to greet another guest.

Alice’s mouth dropped open. “Did he actually wink at you?”

“Yes,” she gritted out. “Can you conceive of anything more vulgar?” But I like vulgarity, said a small voice in her heart. She’d been winked at by Weatherby, by their butler, by a groom—as a child, of course, but still . . . Why did the hauteur which had protected her in the past seem so utterly crass today?

It didn’t matter. She clung to her frostiest manner as if her life depended on it. “It is obvious why I cannot agree with everything he believes.”

“Indeed, one wonders how a man of his birth can stoop so low,” Alice said, “but one puts up with his plebian views because he is so handsome and charming.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a gun and could shoot him on the spot.”

“Pray do not,” Alice said. “I know he annoys you—you are quivering with rage, my dear—but it is marvelous fun to watch the ladies cluster round him, pretending to hang on his every word, whilst secretly dreaming of his kisses . . . As far as I can tell, he never beds the women who chase him, which of course makes him all the more fascinating.”

“Not to me.” Perfect—instead of a hypocrite, she was fast becoming a liar.

“I wouldn’t mind at all if he winked at me,” Alice said. “Ah, here are Lady Marianne and Mrs. Apsley. Good evening! How kind of you to come.”

Gloriana made a point of sitting next to Marianne. They both enjoyed poetry, which kept the conversation going for a while, but Marianne’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere. She was pining for Mr. Barnham, no doubt. Gloriana wasn’t doing much better. She couldn’t keep her mind off Philippe. In the past, she had scarcely noticed how many determined women pursued him. If anything, she’d laid the blame on him, thinking it proof of his unworthiness.

Why, she wondered, didn’t he succumb to the women who chased him? Did he prefer women of the demimonde, for whose favors he was obliged to pay? She eyed the little group. Obviously, he couldn’t touch Arabella Stansom, an unmarried miss. But what about Sabrina Worth, the pretty widow flirting with him now? Widows were often fair game for a liaison, and Sabrina was no stranger to scandal.

Lady Marianne heaved a deep sigh.