Page 109 of The Lord Meets His Lady

If Mr. Beckworth was shocked, he failed to show it. Standing near the silent Herr Wolf, Genevieve couldn’t help but compare the two. Both blond-haired military men wore their queues short and free of fashionable pomade curls. Both dressed in severe black broadcloth. Yet Mr. Beckworth was the kind of man a woman could trust. He’d have a care with the gentler sex and wear the badge of honor with all women, no matter their social standing, while Herr Wolf methodically, relentlessly took what he wanted.

Why didn’t he leave after clear defeat?

Stilted conversation came in painful starts and stops in their circle. Everybody talked, but no one listened. The evening had barely begun, and Genevieve longed to be in the cozy Pallinsburn parlor, curled up with a pamphlet and Lord Bowles. Cold castles couldn’t compare to a warm cottage and a good man.

Her arm brushed Marcus’s. He was uncharacteristically quiet. She petted the velvet nap on his sleeve. No one noticed the tender touch save Herr Wolf. He stared at her, his mouth tightening.

Lord Barnard clapped the Prussian on the back. “Will you join us for five-card loo?”

“I rarely gamble.”

“Why not?” Lord Bowles asked.

“A frivolous pursuit.”

“You strike me as the kind of man who engages in frivolous pursuits…a man who chases what he can’t have,” Lord Bowles replied.

Genevieve squeezed his arm with warning. Why provoke the brute?

“I usually get what I want.”

Lord Bowles chuckled without humor. “‘Usually’ being the key word.”

Lord Barnard tipped his head at the tables where men started to find their seats. “You’re in a contrary mood, Bowles. Why not take it to the tables?”

“A fine plan, but I wouldn’t want to fleece the baron’s esteemed guest.” Lord Bowles looked pointedly at Herr Wolf.

The Prussian smiled. “I don’t fear you.”

Her husband’s jaw clenched.

“Let’s take our seats, gentlemen.” Lord Barnard pushed into the circle, insinuating himself with Lord Bowles. “How is that fine racehorse of yours? Khan, isn’t it?”

Lord Barnard steered the group, and Genevieve’s husband slipped away to the tables. Mr. Beckworth escorted Mrs. Grey to a seating area.

“May I escort you,LadyBowles?” Herr Wolf offered his arm to her.

She hesitated. Lord Bowles glanced back, scowling at the Prussian. He pivoted as if to come to her rescue, but Lord Barnard smoothly snagged her husband with a question. Lord Bowles looked about to charge to her side, but she shook her head. She’d spent a lifetime fending for herself. It didn’t matter that she was Lady Bowles. She’d not lose her courage.

“I can hardly steal you from here,” Herr Wolf said privately for her.

Genevieve signaled again to her husband with a small wave to stay where he was. “You’ll not steal me at all,” she countered, meeting Herr Wolf’s stare.

Haunted blue-gray eyes pinned her. Desperate and hurt. Longing flashed a split second before Herr Wolf looked away.

“Was it so bad with me?”

Around them, male laughter bounced off the high ceiling. His proud profile reminded her of a painting she’d once seen…a long-ago warrior king who’d ruled the world.

“I’d prefer your escort to my seat.”

His long legs led their amble, the silver tassels on his Hessians tapping with each step. He appeared to take her on the roundabout route to the settee.

“You owe me an answer.”

She stared straight ahead. “I don’t owe you anything. You take first and ask later. It’s your way.”

He flinched, and part of her softened. Not long ago, she had lived in the Wolf’s lair. Reinhard had pleasured her body. He’d seen her fed and clothed. From time to time a gift would appear.