Patience, belatedly realising their topic of conversation, stared at her sisters in astonishment. ‘Are you both completely beef-witted?’ she spluttered. ‘How on earth do you think to match me with the Marquess of Guildford?’ Unable to help herself, she laughed at her sisters’ indignant expressions. ‘It’s entirely absurd to imagine such a man might even look once at me, let alone twice, and I insist you put such a ridiculous idea out of your minds immediately, or I swear I will walk out of this ballroom right this very second.’
Grace sighed. ‘You are right, Patience,’ she conceded eventually. ‘As much as it pains me to admit it, such an idea is no more than a fairy tale.’
‘We had our fairy tales and so did Faith and Hope,’ persisted Temperance heatedly. ‘Why should it be any different for Patience?’
‘Because I don’t want it,’ Patience gritted through her teeth, taking care to emphasise thedon’t want.
‘Mayhap you would care for some air?’ interrupted Nicholas casting a warning glance to his wife. Patience stared at him for a second, then visibly sagged and nodded her head.
‘Come, we will avail ourselves of some more of the delightful tea they are so fond of here,’ he continued drily, holding out his arm. ‘Adam, I charge you with ensuring our lady wives do not get into any mischief in the meantime,’ he added, looking pointedly at Grace and Temperance.
‘How could you think such a thing?’
‘What an absurd thought.’
‘You have my word. I’ll watch them both like a hawk,’ Adam laughed favouring both ladies with a mock glare.
Nicholas rolled his eyes before looking down at Patience. ‘No matter what lofty plans your sisters are entertaining, you will not be coerced into marrying anyone you do not wish to,’ he assured her.
Adam nodded. ‘Ofthat, you have our word,’ he agreed.
Patience looked into the sympathetic eyes of her brothers-in-law and felt her heart thud disagreeably. She could only hope they’d both be as understanding when her planned downfall finally came to fruition.
∞∞∞
Max had never been surrounded by so many twittering females. Any hopes he’d harboured of discovering something pertinent from Hugo’s erstwhile friends went entirely out of the window within the first fifteen minutes of his arrival. Belatedly remembering that this was only the second ball he’d attended since his return from Portugal, he found himself surrounded by a large group of simpering females who clearly had no intention of even giving him room to breathe. God’s teeth, he swore internally, if he was forced to evade one more groping hand, he would deliver a set down that would send the whole gaggle into paroxysms of fright.
What the devil had he been thinking?It made no difference to the matchmaking mothers, or their simpering daughters that he’d just buried his brother. Indeed, their imaginative offers to provide sympathy would have made even the most hardened man blush.
After half an hour, he’d come to the end of his tether and knew if he didn’t escape now, he would do something he’d entirely regret. With an abruptness that had two ladies stumbling backwards, he stepped to one side and gave a small bow. ‘I thank you for your most enjoyable conversation, ladies,’ he bit out, ‘however, I am unfortunately obliged to take my leave of you for a short time.’
The chorus of protests had him holding his breath and counting to ten. Smiling grimly, he inclined his head again and strode swiftly away.
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered to himself. He needed a drink. Did they even serve anything other that the damnable tea everyone was sipping?
Was this what waited for him until he finally chose a bride? Gritting his teeth, he became more determined than ever to getSepidehback. There was no way he could spend the whole Season negotiating the marriage market and keep his sanity intact. Shuddering, he stepped through the first doorway he came to and simply kept walking along the mercifully empty corridor until the noise from the ballroom faded behind him. Approaching a pair of glass doors, he stepped through, onto a small overgrown terrace, clearly not well used.
He stopped, and leaning against the wall, took a deep breath. Finally, golden, blessed silence. He closed his eyes in an effort to compose himself. If Bamford should make an appearance, it was imperative he did nothing rash, and right this second, if the Earl stepped out onto the terrace, Max was entirely certain he’d put him on his back.
‘I feel I must warn you, my lord, that one or the other of us must vacate this particular spot immediately, and given the circumstances, I fear it must be you.’
Almost jumping out of his skin at the unexpected voice, Max pushed himself upright and peered into the gloom. After a few seconds, he was able to make out a pair of slippers standing next to an overgrown bush. Frowning, he stepped forward until the shadows separated, and in their stead was a young woman. He swore softly to himself.
‘It is not desirable for you to be seen with me,’ the voice continued levelly. ‘I’m about to be ruined you see, and if we are seen together people may well consider that you are the one doing the ruining. Which of course is entirely preposterous.’
‘What the devil are you talking about?’ questioned Max, wondering if he’d blundered into a clandestine assignation. Or worse. With a sudden sense of dread, he questioned whether he had stumbled unknowing into some kind of trap. Cursing inwardly, he looked around, half expecting an angry mother to launch herself out of the bushes and accuse him of compromising her daughter. But all remained silent.
‘If you are concerned about your reputation my lady, then perhaps loitering on an abandoned terrace is not in your best interests.’
‘In truth, I care nothing about my reputation,’ she responded matter-of-factly. ‘It is of no consequence to me who actually does the ruining provided they are unknown. Which you, my lord, certainly are not.’ She stared at him candidly. ‘I watched you arrive,’ she declared. ‘Indeed, my sisters were all of a flutter initially, until I explained that a man like you would have no interest in a woman like me.’
‘Why would I not have any interest?’ questioned Max, intrigued despite himself.
The strange creature snorted in derision. ‘You are not wearing glasses,’’ she mocked. ‘If you have to ask that question, I must conclude that their absence is out of vanity, and if such is the case, I recommend you put them on immediately.’
‘I can assure you there is nothing wrong with my eyesight.’ Max stared intently into the darkness and realised what he mistook for shadow was actually the colour of her dress, and though he could not make out the entirety of her features, he could tell that her face was pale. Indeed, her skin appeared to be the same hue as her ballgown. Not a good choice he reflected absently. ‘Why do you wish your ravisher to be unknown?’ he asked suddenly recalling her odd comment. He had no idea why he was continuing the bizarre conversation when clearly his best course of action would be to get as far away from the odd female as possible.
She took a small step forward and frowned. ‘I have no intention of marrying,’ she declared, the vehemence in her voice emphasising her strong feelings on the subject. ‘And I do not wish my fall from grace to result in an enforced wedding. If my would-be ravisher is not known to anyone, then who will care whether he makes an honest woman of me?’
