“I beg your pardon, Your Grace—”
“You most certainly should,” Raphe’s mother snorted, clearly infuriated.
Raphe’s twin brother — younger only by ten minutes — Lord Gabriel Stewart, chose that very moment to rise from the chair where he’d been lounging and observing the festivities and limp to their mother’s side, leaning quite heavily on his cane. Actually, he was leaning on it a fair bit more than usual, Raphe noted.
The young lady’s mother, the Countess of Weatherstone, who’d been guffawing like a braying donkey at her daughter’s snide barb only a moment before, froze. Her muddy grey eyes went wide with dawning horror as Gabriel came to a halt at his mother’s elbow and banged his cane on the floor so loudly that everyone within a fifteen-foot radius fell silent and turned their attention to the Duchess of Elkington, her sons, and the unfortunate young woman who’d just unwittingly crossed the entire Stewart family with one foolish comment.
Gabriel’s hands rested atop his cane as if he were a king, it was a sceptre, and he regarded the cruel girl unflinchingly, despite the startling shrapnel scar which curled across his cheek. A sense of pride bloomed in Raphe’s chest as his wounded brother fearlessly faced off against the paragon of shallow pettiness before him.
“Since you have such a keen interest in making commentary on people’s physical appearances, I must ask… what have you to say of me, Lady Camilla?”
No one around them moved, nor even dared to breathe as Gabriel drawled his challenge to the dumbstruck girl. His blue eyes blazed with cold disapproval as he looked her over from head to toe. His lips pressed into a hard, thin line.
“I… well, I couldn’t possibly—” Lady Camilla stammered, her cheeks reddening with mortification at being called out for her poor behaviour in front of everyone.
Gabriel clicked his tongue and shook his head at the girl, holding nothing back.
“No, no… out with it, Lady Camilla, or are you the sort of girl who only has unkind things to say when your victims are not at hand to defend themselves?”
The girl’s mouth opened and closed several times, but the only sound which escaped her lips was a rather inelegant, incredulous choking sound.
Raphe stepped up, then, right by Gabriel’s side, and that seemed to shake Lady Camilla out of her shocked stupor. She drew herself up to her full height and narrowed her eyes at Raphe.
“Do you really intend to stand there and allow your brother to speak to me in such a beastly manner, Your Grace?”
“I do.” Raphe offered the girl a polite smile which did not reach his eyes. Then, he turned to the girl’s mother. “I think it would be best if the two of you excuse yourselves before any further unseemly scenes are made, don’t you? People might talk, and we certainly wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Lady Camilla opened her mouth as if she intended to argue with him, but her mother gripped her arm so ferociously that she winced and swallowed her words as a footman materialised to show them out.
Raphe waved a hand at the other guests, silently urging them to get back to enjoying the Ball. Just like that, the members of the ton started chattering and the music resumed.
Most were careful not to meet Raphe’s gaze, but when he glanced across the room, the blonde girl Catherine had encouraged him to dance with was watching them with guarded curiosity.
Gabriel cleared his throat and leaned over to murmur something so only their mother and Raphe would hear him.
“Mother, I should very much like to be introduced to the young lady whom Lady Camilla was disparaging, if you please.”
Raphe cleared his throat and nodded.
“As would I.”
The Duchess offered her sons an indulgent smile.
“Of course, my dears. Give me but a moment to locate her chaperone and I shall see to the introductions immediately.”
CHAPTER2
A loud,resounding bang sounded and the ballroom fell silent. Eliza’s head snapped up, and she looked around, searching for the source of the noise.
“What on Earth was that?”
She and Matilda were on their second glasses of orgeat. They had been sipping them and watching for Susan, Eugenia, and Lord D’Asti to return from where they’d disappeared to, down the hall.
“It’s His Grace’s brother, Lord Gabriel Stewart.” Matilda leaned over and murmured by Eliza’s ear. “Lady Camilla seems to have made some sort of grave misstep and upset him. Her Grace looks quite upset, as well.”
“I wonder what happened.” Eliza frowned, watching their exchange with guarded, idle curiosity.
Really, Eliza felt terrible — at least in part — for watching them, as if their lives were some sort of grand drama meant for public consumption. Surely she had something better to do than gawk at them like some sort of nosy ninny and wonder why they looked so upset, but really, what else was she to do? The entire Ball had gone quiet, and everyone was looking on at whatever was playing out between Her Grace, Lord Gabriel Stewart, and Lady Camilla.
