Page 65 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“We all know you dislike him, but you must admit he is handsome.”

“Very,” Gloriana said dryly, watching him saunter away from Marianne, who had joined a bevy of young ladies.

“And charming,” the dowager said.

“When he chooses to be,” Gloriana said.

The dowager tittered. “Aha! Did he trifle with you, my dear, and then move on? I hope he doesn’t break poor Marianne’s heart.”

“I doubt it,” Gloriana said. “She’s not showing any sign of constancy. To give up so easily on Freddy, and immediately succumb to the marquis . . .” Which, the more she watched them, the less she believed.

“Perhaps she is too young to know her own mind,” the dowager said.

Gloriana didn’t believe that either.

Lord Hythwick stomped up to them to take his leave. “I’m rather weary but don’t wish to deprive my sister of her enjoyment, nor Mrs. Apsley of her card game, so I’ll send my coachman back for them.”

What? Why wasn’t Hythwick dragging her away from both her swains? As for Mrs. Apsley, when did he give a hoot for anyone else’s comfort?

But he couldn’t possibly be part of the charade. Suddenly, she noticed that Freddy’s eyes were no longer on Marianne—but on a point past her and to the right.

The earl bowed at his hostess, leered at Gloriana, and left. She glanced behind, to see Philippe strolling through a set of double doors onto the terrace, where torches offered light and warmth against the chilly night.

Gloriana continued to take part in the conversation, whilst keeping an eye on the remaining players. Soon she caught a nod from Freddy . . . in the direction of Marianne, who suddenly headed in the direction of the ladies’ retiring room, but at the last moment detoured to the terrace as well.

A minute later, Freddy followed.

Gloriana let out a sigh. Most likely Philippe didn’t intend to marry Marianne after all. Instead, what if he were helping Freddy and Marianne? Arranging for them to tryst on the terrace, now that Hythwick was gone . . . She settled back in her chair, relieved.

“How strange,” her hostess said. “Didn’t Lord Hythwick just bid us farewell?”

Gloriana raised her head. Lord Hythwick stood in the doorway, raking the ballroom with his quizzing glass. Oh, no! Had he come back to catch Marianne speaking with Freddy? He had expressly forbidden her to do so.

She stood. “Do excuse me. I must visit the necessary.” She hastened toward the ladies’ retiring room, trying not to look rushed, and detoured to the terrace at the last moment, just as Marianne had done. At first, she thought it was deserted due to the chill of the night, but then she spied Marianne, Freddy, and Philippe in the far corner.

She hastened toward them. “Lord Hythwick has returned—or maybe he didn’t leave at all. He’s looking for you, Marianne.” She put out a hand. “Come, you mustn’t be caught out here with Freddy.”

Marianne dithered. “But—”

Freddy scowled. “My dear Miss Warren—”

Philippe interrupted them both. “You are a damned nuisance, Gloriana.” He took her by the hand and pulled her, resisting, toward the ballroom. “I’ve had enough of your meddling. From now on, mind your own business!”

“Let me go!” Gloriana tried to slap him away, but he didn’t release his harsh grip.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from me?” he demanded. “Didn’t I tell you I would take care of everything?”

Through the windows, she spied Lord Hythwick approaching, and meanwhile, Philippe was blathering on about leaving him be. Which she would gladly do, but she couldn’t desert Marianne in her time of need. She had to keep Hythwick off the terrace—at least long enough for Freddy and Marianne to get out of the way.

As Philippe pushed open the doors, she raised her free hand and slapped him hard across the face. “How dare you?” she cried.

He let go, gaping at her. For the first time in her life, she’d nonplussed Philippe de Bellechasse.

She’d also startled Lord Hythwick and half the inhabitants of the ballroom. She would never, ever live this down.

She didn’t care. “How dare you order me about! You’re as unworthy of your title as those lowborn fools you care so much about. I will do as I please!”

She put her nose in the air and stalked away, halting by the smirking Lord Hythwick. “My lord, the next time you ask me to dance, I shall certainly agree. Society may think what it pleases.”