Page 64 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“Since she can’t marry Freddy, what does it matter?” Alice asked.

“She should insist on Freddy,” Gloriana said. “Or remain patient until she is of age and Hythwick can’t force her to marry some aged peer.” But he could make her life miserable, no doubt about that. “She could even elope with Freddy.”

“To Gretna Green, I suppose,” Alice scoffed. “Impossible. She’s not the scandalous sort.”

“What a pity.” She spied another arrival. “Oh, God, it’s Lord Hythwick. I’ll have to dance with him, and he leers at me.”

“It’s your own fault,” Alice said. “I told you it was unwise to dispense with your chaperone. It was particularly stupid of you to do so right after he decided not to marry you.”

“That was months ago!”

“Tsk. Everyone assumes that, at heart, you are as badly behaved as the rest of your family. Therefore, you must have done something so improper that your poor old cousin refused to stay with you any longer.”

“Not at all! I was tired of her, and she was always ill and just as tired of me, so it made sense to let her go.” But her lack of a female companion played into Hythwick’s hands, Gloriana realized unhappily. He felt justified in both rejecting her as a future wife and pursuing her as a mistress.

“You’d better snub him,” Alice said.

“If I don’t dance with him, I shall be obliged to refuse to dance with anyone else,” Gloriana said.

“I said snub him,” Alice said, “not destroy your own enjoyment. What harm can he do that you haven’t already done to yourself?”

She didn’t know, but nor did she wish to risk Hythwick’s malice, at least until she had the Book of Hours back. When eventually he made his way over, she compromised with a blunt, “Thank you, my lord, but no, for people are talking. I don’t know why the fact that I am temporarily without a chaperone should cause such a fuss, but so it is. For the sake of my family, I mustn’t court further gossip.”

“Understood, my dear Miss Warren,” he said with a smirk and a leer. He bowed and soon approached another lady.

That was easy enough. Gloriana wavered between wariness and relief. She danced with Mr. Bridge and then Freddy Barnham, who did his manful best to be polite, but his eyes kept straying to Marianne.

“Why not elope with her?” Gloriana asked bluntly.

“Eh?” He reddened. “Sorry. Kind of you not to take offence at my wandering attention.”

“You love Marianne. Don’t let another man steal her away from you!”

He glanced at Philippe, whose dark head was bent over Marianne’s fair one. “Not much I can do about it, if she prefers him.”

“I cannot believe Marianne would be so fickle,” she said. Or that Philippe would be so conniving. The thought made her ill.

“Better to find out now than later,” Freddy said.

“Philippe de Bellechasse is not a good match for her. He wouldn’t be unkind, but he doesn’t love her. Not only that, I’m certain her brother won’t permit it. What if they elope?”

Wry amusement flickered in his gaze. “Don’t let it worry you, Miss Warren.”

Regardless of Freddy’s feelings, she must at least make a push to ensure that Marianne didn’t do something she would regret. She would make a point of speaking to her tonight.

She waited until Mrs. Apsley was settled in the card room and headed for Marianne, but Philippe got there first. Drat! They joined the next set, so when another gentleman asked her to dance, she gladly agreed. Meanwhile, Freddy propped up the wall and scowled.

This made no sense! Either he didn’t care, in which case why the scowl? Or if he did care, why the amusement—and the assurance that all would be well? Maybe . . . maybe she’d misunderstood Philippe’s intentions.

A wary, tentative feeling of relief crept over her. A bit of hope did as well, which she resolutely ignored.

After the set was over, she retreated to sit next to her hostess, a gossipy dowager who could be counted on to talk without pause, leaving Gloriana plenty of time to think. And watch the movements of the three people who were participating in this little performance.

For that was precisely what it seemed to be—a play, with everyone acting his or her part.

“Poor Freddy Barnham,” the dowager said. “Cut out by that handsome, charming Frenchman.”

“Indeed.” But why? How could a flirtation between Philippe and Marianne help Freddy? Hythwick would refuse to let her marry either of them.