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“I think you overestimate my acquaintance with him, but I would hazard that he would wear the label of rudeness as easily as he does the label of rake.”
“How is it you are even able to talk to him?” asked Margaret. “He always appears quite put out at being spoken to.”
Mildred was tempted to say that the Marquess must feel sorry for her, but he himself would protest that his selfish nature would not accommodate so generous a sentiment as pity.
“Millie, will you not sing my praises to him?” Jane asked. “I am your oldest friend. Perhaps you can mention that Henry Westley has taken an interest in me.”
“I should be a better friend by not calling his attention to you,” Mildred replied. “Surely you know his reputation?”
“My brother said the Marquess came very near to a duel once,” Helen noted.
“How exciting!” Margaret sighed.
Mildred looked across the room to where Alastair stood talking to his aunt, Lady Katherine. Even without the dash of danger to his character, Mildred understood his appeal. Nearing thirty years of age, his masculinity matured, the Marquess was a handsome specimen of his sex. He enjoyed the sports as much as cards and kept himself in fine physical health. He had the same black hair that all the members of the d’Aubigne family possessed and a smile that could charm when needed. But Mildred found his gaze too sharp and that his lips tended toward a frown.
“He has left a fair number of broken hearts in his wake,” she remarked, though she knew full well that nothing called to the fancy of her sex more than the potential reformation of a rake by a woman.
“Surely he will give more thought to marriage now that he is the Marquess,” said Jane.
Margaret waved her hand dismissively. “In truth, I simply wish to flirt with the man. That would be plenty exciting for me.”
The women giggled in agreement. Mildred smiled. If she had shared their sentiments regarding Alastair, she, too, would have thrilled to receive a smile or a dance from him. Alas, she was to marry George Haversham, and would never know that fluttering of the heart, that spark of excitement, when the object of one’s affection comes near. But she was not yet ready to reconcile herself to a life of dullness. She would save herself from such a fate. But she needed the assistance of the Marquess of Alastair.
