Page 88 of The Redemption of the Shrew

So was she.

“Seems unfair that they two will marry tomorrow, while we have to wait . . . forever?”

Surely not that long, but when would she know for sure about Jean-Esprit?

“He’s probably dead, love, and if he’s not, your brother and I between us will make sure he doesn’t harm you. Toss away those fears and take a chance.”

“I—I need more time to think about it,” she said.

Eric sighed.

~ ~ ~

Gossip spreads like wildfire, so take care not to provide the spark. This particular maxim of Gloriana’s mother was absolutely correct. Attending Alice’s salon had been a mistake—one that would last all evening, because a Warren couldn’t turn around and flee.

“There was a huge to-do at Lord Hythwick’s today,” Alice said, “and I know you had something to do with it, because you were seen.”

“I daresay I was, but all I did was accompany Mrs. Apsley home because she felt unwell. Poor lady, she could hardly walk.”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” Alice said skeptically, “but the question is, where is Marianne?”

“Not here at your salon,” Gloriana said. “But then how could she be, if her aunt is ill? She can’t come on her own.”

“No, but there’s more to it. By what I’ve heard, Marianne went out with Mrs. Apsley today, but didn’t return with her.”

“Perhaps she’s with a friend?”

Alice narrowed her eyes. “Then, according to a most reliable source, Hythwick arrived home, all in a froth, and shouted so loud that he could be heard in the street! A half hour later, he galloped away—no mean feat on a crowded London street. Where do you suppose he was going?”

“I have no idea,” Gloriana lied. “But as long as it has nothing to do with me, I don’t care.”

“Oh, very well.” Alice pouted. “I see you’re not going to tell what you know.”

Gloriana rolled her eyes.

“Let us move to another topic, then. Have you by any chance noticed the curious looks directed at you tonight?”

She had—both sly glances and frank glowers, but she’d assumed they were about her supposed interest in the Earl of Hythwick. “That’s nothing new.”

“Oh, but it is, darling. No one who knows you seriously supposed you would hop into bed with Hythwick. But with a certain French nobleman, however . . .”

Gloriana wanted to roll her eyes, but she’d just done that. Besides, she could feel the flush of guilt making its inexorable way up her cheeks.

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?” demanded Gloriana.

Alice poked her in the chest and whispered, “Philippe de Bellechasse was seen going into your house this afternoon. Not only was he permitted to cross the threshold, but he stayed for almost an hour! And don’t try to deny it.”

Gloriana didn’t. This particular piece of gossip was hers to confirm, if she so chose—and why not? Tomorrow she and Philippe would wed.

“It seems a strange hour of the day for a seduction,” Alice mused, “but perhaps Philippe bribed your maid and caught you off guard. You’d gone to bed for a nap, and he found you all warm and rumpled and in dishabille, and—”

“Stop it, Alice. I wasn’t in bed, and he didn’t seduce me.”

“Come now, darling. No one blames you for succumbing to the most desirable man in London. We shall have such fun teasing you. All the cats are ready to scratch your eyes out, but what a delicious conquest on your part! And on his too, for you don’t even like him.”

“Don’t be absurd. I like him very much.”