Page 45

“S ir Frederick and Miss Fairchild look like they’re smelling of April and May.”

Lady Pendleton adjusted her lorgnette as she leaned forward in her chair within the cozy alcove where she and Eugenia sat.

And Eugenia couldn’t help noticing there was a hint of disdain in her tone. As if she couldn’t abide the notion that Eugenia might just win her wager.

So for a few seconds, Eugenia worked on her response, tempering the hurt that might have risen to the surface in earlier times. Lady Pendleton seemed to become more animated if she suspected she’d hit a nerve.

“And don’t they make just the perfect couple?

” Eugenia said with a smile, leaning back in satisfaction as she regarded the handsome couple on the dance floor.

“See how she’s smiling up at him? And look!

He’s laughing at some remark she’s just made.

Doesn’t he look—” She leaned forward, frowning.

For now she was not just trying to bolster her case, for what she was seeing was quite extraordinary.

“Why, he looks quite smitten! Oh!” She couldn’t help it, but she actually squealed.

“He touched his finger to her cheek as she laughed. Very discreetly, but so intimate! Oh, Lady Pendleton, I do believe the pair are in love.”

“Nonsense!” snapped Lady Pendleton, her mouth now downturned so that she looked as if she’d just eaten a sour apple. “It could not possibly have happened in such a short time. You’re imagining it!”

“Imagining what?”

As ever, Eugenia’s heartbeat ratcheted up just a little more as Lord Thornton joined them, offering a sardonic smile as he glanced in the direction both ladies were looking, before taking a seat.

“My, my, Eugenia, perhaps you have more of a nose for romance than I gave you credit for.” He frowned, then added, “But Sir Frederick is a renowned rake. And Miss Fairchild is clearly susceptible to flattery. She’s hardly dressed to attract attention, but it appears that she likes it. Hmm.”

Eugenia wasn’t sure how to interpret his remark. Was this grudging acknowledgement that she might be on the path to winning their wager? Or was his added caveat really throwing cold water on any premature notions of success she might be having?

“Eugenia, my dear, won’t you find Albert for me and tell him his mama wants him?” Lady Pendleton waved a languid arm in the direction of the supper table.

Eugenia blinked. Of course, she was in the habit of doing Lady Pendleton’s bidding, but this evening she felt strangely obstructionist. Perhaps it was because her old friend was clearly so reluctant to accord Eugenia any credit that she might be right for once.

What did it matter to her that Sir Frederick and Miss Fairchild might make a match? She had nothing to win or lose. Did she really hate the notion of Eugenia enjoying her wish of a flight in a hot-air balloon over London with Lord Thornton? Was she really motivated more by churlishness?

“Perhaps Pendleton is nearby and can find him,” Eugenia suggested with uncharacteristic obfuscation.

“Oh Pendleton!” Lady Pendleton’s tone made no secret of her disdain for her husband.

“He went to bed hours ago. Said he couldn’t hear a word anyone said to him.

He certainly never hears a word I say.” She glanced at Thornton.

“You surely are not going to give up so easily and sacrifice your Persephone to instead take Eugenia over London in a hot-air balloon, are you? I never heard such an outlandish, unladylike proposal.” She slanted a glance at him over her ivory-tipped fan that first encompassed Eugenia with a moment of acid.

“Are you suggesting I’m a man who doesn’t honor a wager?”

“I’m suggesting no such thing!” Lady Pendleton looked highly offended.

“You are a gentleman of honor and integrity. You’re not the one lacking refinement.

” She glanced at Eugenia before waving her hand once more, saying, “For goodness’ sake, Eugenia, what’s wrong with you?

I asked if you would find Albert and send him to me. ”

Eugenia rose. What else could she do? Pushing back her shoulders to maintain as much of the dignity that her friend had been at such pains to shred, she stepped out of their cozy alcove and into the crowd.

The magnificent ballroom with its crystal chandeliers and ornate frescos was like so many others where she’d danced and flirted.

Or had she never flirted, she wondered as she thought of Lord Thornton.

Had she been so shy and self-conscious that even a glance in his direction had felt like she was branding herself a harlot?

Or, at least, wearing her heart on her sleeve in the shameless manner Lady Pendleton now attributed to her wager.

Lady Pendleton.

Her friend’s barely veiled barbs were growing sharper each year.

As she made her way across the floor, a flash of green and a girlish giggle made her turn.

Miss Fairchild? It wasn’t a sound that usually came out of that restrained miss’s mouth. No, Miss Fairchild was far too self-contained for that.

Yet now, having obviously finished dancing the last dance, she and Sir Frederick remained in close conversation, their heads bent together in a way that spoke of intimacy rather than mere flirtation.

There was something pure about their growing attachment—nothing like the calculated maneuverings she so often witnessed at gatherings like this.

Sir Frederick’s reputation might suggest otherwise, but as Eugenia studied his expression, she was sure it wasn’t just her imagination that there was something more genuine than blandly charming.

Could Miss Fairchild’s influence really have been responsible for channeling his natural charm into something more genuine?

Or was she being a mawkish, sentimental old woman, as Lady Pendleton would surely say.

A burst of artificial laughter drew her attention to where Mrs. Perry stood with Mr. Greene, her fan working overtime as she touched his arm with careful casualness. The widow’s eyes, however, kept darting to Sir Frederick, their expression shifting between—

Eugenia tried to work it out. She wasn’t of a particularly imaginative nature… No, that was not true. She was immensely imaginative, but still, was that wounded pride and calculation?

Hesitating, Eugenia took in the scene, ostensibly to locate Albert, however it wasn’t Mrs. Perry’s look that was of most concern, she decided as she encompassed Mr. Greene in her perusal, but rather the way Mr. Greene’s gaze fixed on Caroline across the room; and as, with a smoothness that spoke of practice, he drew the young girl into their orbit.

Something about the tableau made Eugenia’s skin prickle. Mrs. Perry’s smile held an edge she recognized all too well—the look of a woman planning… revenge.

But of course! Mrs. Perry had sent a lure to Sir Frederick and now he was throwing it back in her face. Or rather, that’s how she interpreted it, clearly.

Eugenia knew such nuances of the facial features well, and what came from the heart was not well disguised when someone had no idea they were being observed.

Having been on the receiving end of Lady Pendleton’s subtle vengeance more times than she cared to count, Eugenia knew the signs.

She found Albert in the card room, his tall frame bent over a game of whist. Unlike his mother, he rose immediately upon seeing her approach, his manners as impeccable as always.

“Lady Townsend, what a pleasure. I trust you’re enjoying the evening?”

“Your mother has asked for you,” Eugenia said, already anticipating his response.

“Ah.” He glanced at his cards, then at his companions.

“Please convey my apologies to Mama, but I’m rather in the middle of something important.

Lord Rutherford and I—” He shrugged, adding, “It’s not important to Mama who has no interest in such matters, but I would prefer not to abandon some illuminating discussion.

” He lowered his voice. “She’ll likely just want me to fetch her shawl or rearrange her cushions. Jenkins can see to that.”

Eugenia couldn’t help but smile at his understanding of his mother’s ways. “Of course. I’ll let her know you’re occupied with estate business.”

“And that’s exactly what it is,” said Lord Rutherford. “Improving tenant’s conditions might seem like an unnecessary expenditure, but I assure you that loyalty and gratitude bring dividends. I wish more landlords understood this.”

Returning to the alcove, Eugenia slowed her steps as she heard Lady Pendleton’s voice, pitched low but clear.

Again, the note of dissatisfaction was nothing new and so would not have deterred Eugenia from resuming her seat.

However, it was the way she heard her mention Sir Frederick and Miss Fairchild in the same sentence that made her halt before she’d rounded the swathe of curtain and made her presence known.

“Really, Thornton, it’s hardly as if Sir Frederick and Miss Fairchild are two souls pre-destined for one another,” Lady Pendleton said with a sniff.

“They met each other for the first time under this roof and obviously Eugenia has been doing all sorts of meddling to bring them together purely so she can win her wager.” Her friend’s voice became wheedling.

“I know how much you covet that Persephone. It can so easily be yours. And thus without you suffering an undignified loss.”

Lord Thornton cleared his throat. “I don’t know, Lady Pendleton. What you’re suggesting—” He broke off, glancing over his shoulder as if he was somehow aware that Eugenia was close by.

And his smile was affable and not at all cagey or resentful, as Lady Pendleton’s was when Thornton said, “Welcome back into the fold, Eugenia. But I see you’re missing something.”

“Albert,” said Lady Pendleton.

“Some refreshment was what I really meant,” said Lord Thornton.