“Lord Willbridge,” Lady Tarryton gushed, simpering as she approached. “What a pleasure to see you, sir. We were so honored to have you in our drawing room the day before last. You remember my daughter, Miss Mariah Duncan, of course.”
Lord Willbridge rose and bowed. “My lady, Miss Mariah. Forgive me; I seem to have taken your seat.”
“Nonsense.” She seated herself beside Imogen. “You are more than welcome to join us. Though perhaps you will see better over here, by my youngest. The view is quite unparalleled.”
Imogen felt her face burn. Her mother could not be more obvious if she tried. She expected Lord Willbridge to follow the barely concealed command. Not many dared oppose her mother, and if they did, it was done once and never again.
But to her surprise he sat down firmly next to her once more. “If the seat is so fine, then please take it for yourself. I would not have you give up such a prime spot for me.”
Imogen’s gaze flew to her mother. She had a macabre desire to see how the marquess’s refusal would affect her.
Lady Tarryton’s syrupy smile lost some of its sweetness. “Ah yes, thank you my lord. Most kind of you.” She fell into a tense silence, and Imogen could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. As she expected, it wasn’t long before her mother recovered.
“Imogen,” she said, a sudden gleam lighting her eyes, “why don’t you come sit over here and give Mariah your seat, dear?”
As Imogen gave a small sigh and went to rise, Lord Willbridge reached out and laid his hand on her arm, forcing her back down. She landed in her seat with a grunt. Lady Tarryton gasped.
“Miss Duncan has offered to share her program with me, and I would be most obliged. I’m a complete dunce when it comes to music, you see, and she has promised to explain it to me as the night progresses,” Lord Willbridge said.
Imogen’s mother blinked owlishly at him.
“Ah, certainly. How…noble of my daughter.” She gave him a perplexed smile before turning her attention to the front of the room. Mariah, on her mother’s far side, smiled slyly at Imogen before turning forward as well.
Imogen was silent as the soprano took her place and began. And then, under cover of the singing, she leaned ever so slightly in Lord Willbridge’s direction, bending her head toward the program to give the appearance of explaining the song. He took the hint, smart man, following suit.
“How in the world did you do that?” she whispered.
His eyes were wide with feigned innocence. “Do what?” he whispered back, before ruining the effect and grinning.
“Oh, you are good,” she mumbled. “I wish I could manage her half as well as you.”
“It is a simple matter of surprise,” he replied. How he managed to insert such a scholarly tone into his whisper she would never know. “Keep her on her toes. And deflect, deflect, deflect.”
She raised one eyebrow at him. “Is that your secret? I thought it was an excess of charm.”
He winked, returning his attention to the performance. “Well, there is that.”
Imogen simply shook her head in awe.
Suddenly sharp fingers gripped her right arm. Imogen just barely kept from gasping aloud. She turned quickly to face the furious countenance of her mother.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Tarryton demanded in a harsh whisper.
Imogen schooled her features back to her usual calm lack of emotion. “Nothing, Mama.”
“You’ve been making a positive cake of yourself with Lord Willbridge. I don’t know what you think you are doing, monopolizing his time like that. But I mean for him to marry Mariah.”
As if that wasn’t painfully obvious, Imogen thought, fighting to keep her visage serene. She stared at a spot just over her mother’s shoulder, an ache starting up behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the dim light and her lack of spectacles.
“He is not interested in you in that way, you know,” her mother added, seeming to become only more furious in the face of her daughter’s calm silence. “You may as well get it through your head now, and save yourself heartache later.”
As Lady Tarryton turned away from her, finally ending her tirade, Imogen slowly returned her gaze to the front of the room.
No, she thought, surprised at the painful throb her heart gave, he certainly was not. And never would be.
Chapter 6
A week later, Imogen and her family set out for the Knowles’s yearly house party. Everyone in the carriage was bleary-eyed and yawning as they left London, the rising sun sending slanting shafts of newborn light in to touch on their weary faces. No one, however, was going to fight Lady Tarryton on the ridiculously early departure she insisted on. The past sennight she had done nothing but berate Imogen for the time Lord Willbridge spent with her and bemoan his lack of attention for Mariah. If getting a jump on all the other marriage-minded females was what it took to content her, then they would all gladly get up at the crack of dawn.
