“I was not staring at anything of consequence, I am sure, Lord Greywood.”
Even as she muttered the words, Lydia could taste the bitterness of the lie on her tongue. She only wished that Lady Eugenia Calthorpe was of little consequence, but it was deeply unlikely to ever be true. Lord Greywood’s gaze flicked back to Lydia for a mere moment, and a flash of cunning flared in his mercurial eyes before he returned his focus to Lady Eugenia and Lord D’Asti.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you, Miss Errington.”
Lydia waved a dismissive hand.
“Think nothing of it, Lord Greywood.”
She did not linger any longer, despite the fact that the focus of his staring had piqued her curiosity. Lydia had things to do – opportunities to watch for – and she had no interest in being distracted from her purpose by Lord Greywood, nor anyone else, for that matter.
Marco foundhimself disappointed when the dance set ended. He wanted, quite badly, to spend the entire evening dancing with Lady Eugenia Calthorpe, but more than one dance together would surely cause a scandal, or at the very least, a flurry of gossip, and Marco was resolved to avoid any future involvement in theton’s scandals, if that was possible. He wanted to court Lady Eugenia properly. More than that, he wanted to shelter Lady Eugenia from the rumours and gossip of thetonin the way that he should have done for Susan Hastings (nee Wingfield), who was now the Countess of Seabury.
There would be enough time for dancing while he courted her, Marco reasoned, as the two of them strolled over to the refreshment table together. He wanted to do this right, and be the kind of man that a young lady like Lady Eugenia truly deserved, which meant that he needed to be a far better man — a more careful man — than he’d ever been before.
“Thank you for the dance, Lord D’Asti,” Lady Eugenia murmured, sipping delicately from her glass of orgeat.
“It was my pleasure, I assure you. Every moment spent in your company is truly a delight.”
Marco smiled, genuinely meaning every word.
Lady Eugenia’s pale cheeks flushed at his compliment, turning delightfully rosy. The tentative smile which curved her lips sent a thrill through him, setting his pulse racing. Lady Eugenia’s smiles made Marco feel more alive than he ever had before. As the two of them moved to join Eugenia’s brother, Edward, Marquess of Billington, and his wife, Georgiana, Lady Billington, a footman with a letter in his hand stepped into their path. In unison, Marco and Eugenia stopped short. The footman cleared his throat nervously.
“Lord D’Asti?”
Marco nodded.
“Yes, I am Lord D’Asti.”
The footman thrust the letter at Marco, then.
“This just arrived for you, my Lord. The messenger insisted that it be delivered to you with the utmost urgency.”
An uneasy feeling slithered through Marco as he took the letter. The footman bowed and disappeared, whilst Lady Eugenia hovered beside him, her warm presence the only boon combatting the chill which gripped him as he unfolded the letter and read it.
We will burn Ashewood to the ground if you do not return immediately.
Trembling with rage and fear, Marco carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his jacket pocket. His stomach churned, as if he might cast up his accounts. Swallowing convulsively, he turned back to face Lady Eugenia, offering her a bow.
“I must offer you my sincerest apologies, Lady Eugenia. I have just been made aware of an urgent issue, which I have no choicebut to resolve immediately. Although I am reluctant to leave your company, I must depart London at this very moment.”
Lady Eugenia’s brow furrowed, and she wrung her gloved hands.
“When can I expect to see you again? I fear London will be rather bleak in your absence.”
Marco’s throat tightened painfully at her earnestness. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion.
“Believe me, Lady Eugenia, I will return to London as quickly as I can. I do not wish to be away for long. I hope to see you again soon.”
He bowed, feeling as though there was an anchor tied around his neck, dragging him to the bottom of an ocean of hopelessness.
Eugenia remainedin the same spot, utterly motionless, as she watched Lord D’Asti’s hurried departure. A chill seeped into her skin at his absence, and she crossed her arms, trying and failing to fight off a shiver. Someone who happened to be passing by paused.
“Lady Eugenia Calthorpe, is that you?”
The voice was light and airy, and just loud enough to draw the attention of several young ladies nearby. Eugenia turned towards the voice, surprised to see her old friend Lydia Errington’s slate grey eyes trained on Lord D’Asti’s retreating back as he disappeared through the door which led out into the entrance hall. Finally, Lydia’s gaze shifted back to Eugenia, taking in her stance and expression.
“Good evening, Lydia.”
