Page 46 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“That will not happen,” he said. “And now, you two ladies must leave me here and return to the ballroom together.”

Gloriana bristled at this blatant order. “So some other foolish girl can accost you?”

He gave her an impatient glare, and Marianne giggled. “They cannot help themselves.”

“You need not fear for me.” His voice was hard, his demeanor implacable. “Long ago, I vowed that no one will force me to marry. I shall wed whom I choose, when I choose.” He might as well have added, certainly not you.

“Thank you for the book of poetry,” Marianne said. “I hope it will improve my comprehension of the French language.” She looped her arm into Gloriana’s, and together they left the room.

“He’s such a good-looking man,” Marianne confided softly as they strolled toward the ballroom.

“Indeed,” was all Gloriana could manage.

“Oh, dear,” Marianne said. “I forgot—you hate the marquis, don’t you?”

“That is nothing but gossip. We disagree on a number of subjects, but there is no enmity between us.”

“I thought not, for you speak to him with the ease of old friends.”

“You mean I scold him,” Gloriana said. “We have known one another for a long time, so I suppose that accounts for it.”

“I like him very much.” She sighed.

Good God. “My dear Marianne, are you falling in love with his handsome face?”

“He is far more than a handsome face,” Marianne said reproachfully. “He is kindhearted as well. And clever, too!”

“Perhaps, but what about Freddy Barnham?”

She pouted. “Alvin doesn’t approve.”

“He won’t approve of the marquis either,” Gloriana said. Dear Lord, no. If he refused to consider Freddy Barnham because of a childhood dispute, how would he react to a suitor who had beaten him half to death a few short months ago? “He would do anything to prevent you from marrying Philippe de Bellechasse.”

Marianne’s answering smile was the sort that hides happy secrets—or delusions. “We shall see.”

Chapter 10

“I shall have a little talk with Gloriana,” Philippe said in an under voice. He and Lady Marianne were standing together in a corner of the ballroom—a good location for private conversation whilst being noticed by those around them. He had his doubts about the efficacy of their plan as far as Freddy and Marianne’s future was concerned, but if it kept Gloriana away from Hythwick House, that was good enough for him.

Lady Marianne giggled. “I don’t think she’s the obedient sort.”

“I shall have to make her see sense.” To do that, he might have to tell her about his own difficulties. Damn, the last thing he needed was a tête-a-tête with her.

A couple of ladies sauntered toward them, and Marianne immediately changed the topic. She was an excellent co-conspirator. She understood that his requests amounted to orders; she didn’t ask too many questions, and she had found an excuse to continue their interrupted discussion—a question about a poem by François Villon. The book was open in her hand, and her gaze was serious.

“Villon is one of my favorite poets,” Philippe said. “He had a hard life.”

“As have you, monsieur,” Marianne said, but she had no idea of the extent of his difficulties or how much his checkered career resembled Villon’s. He wasn’t about to enlighten her. They resumed their discussion of the poem until the ladies drifted past.

Marianne had been unsurprised, when he’d first broached their little plot, to learn that her brother had stolen a precious book from Gloriana’s house. Needless to say, he hadn’t told her about the attempted rape.

“A boy was expelled from Eton for stealing a snuffbox from one of the masters, but Alvin was the real thief,” she’d said. “I know, because I heard him telling one of his horrid school friends. But I dared not say anything, for he would have beaten me, and even if my parents believed me, they would have done nothing to correct the injustice.”

“And if the theft was a conspiracy of boys wishing to get rid of another, the boy who was expelled would have been bullied unmercifully if the masters agreed to his reinstatement.”

She sighed. “That is probably true, but nevertheless, I have always felt badly about being unable to help. I shall take great pleasure in helping you recover Gloriana’s book.”

“Thank you, but you must not search for it,” he said. “It is too dangerous. If a servant spies you poking about and mentions it to your brother, he may suspect. If you chance to find out where he keeps it, let me know, but whatever you do, don’t take it.”