Maxwell played a few more hands but then, seeing his luck had abandoned him this evening, excused himself shortly after. As he entered the grand hall, his mother waved him over to where she sat beside the Duchess of Crossings.
But it was the Countess of Helton who drew the most attention. Tonight was no different, and the colors in her flowing gown matched her vivacious personality.
She was more than a handsome woman, however, and possessed all the grace and charm of her late father’s bloodline. This was her world and Max couldn’t bear to imagine what she’d do without it.
"Ah, there you are, Maxwell," she said, her eyes shining with pleasure. “You remember her Grace, the Duchess of Crossings.” Max bowed appropriately and the duchess dipped her chin, a disinterested frown marring her features. Married to a blighter such as Crossings, the lady had good reason for her sour mood.
A staying hand clutched his sleeve as his mother asked, “Have you secured a partner for the supper dance yet?”
This was the problem with attending these sorts of events. Expectations. “Not yet, Mother, but I’m here now, aren’t I?” He glanced around and, when his eyes landed on a familiar figure, his irritation spiked.
Lady Caroline.
Hovering near one of the trees brought inside for decoration, she looked quite alone, and nearly as uncomfortable as he felt. Her eyes met his, and a jolt of awareness shot through him.
All too knowingly, his mother’s gaze followed his, and she made a clicking sound with her tongue. “That poor girl,” she said.
Max turned back to his mother in surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“I would think you’d be well-informed of these things, Maxwell. It should have been written about on your society page—if you saw fit to publish a proper one like I keep telling you...”
He’d slashed the gossip section to half a page six months ago, believing the paper ought to be above such nonsense.
But apparently, according to Lady Caroline anyway, most of it was rubbish anyhow. The vexing young woman dropped her gaze and plucked at the lace on her gloves.
Maxwell folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Because he knew his mother all too well, and the one thing she loved more than almost anything was a good scandal.
“Lady Caroline debuted two weeks ago when the Countess of Standish, her new sister-in-law, held a ball in her honor.”
He tilted his head. “She is Standish’s—”
“Sister. And Lady Standish is her Grace’s daughter.” His mother gestured to her present companion.
But Max was more concerned with the first bit of information.
“She is Lady Caroline… Rutherford?”
“Charlatans,” the duchess inserted. Lord Standish had married the woman’s youngest daughter without the duke’s approval. Messy business to be sure.
And Max himself couldn’t help but partially agree. Too many rumors surrounded the Earl of Standish, a man who’d been fourth in line to the Standish earldom, and then inherited unexpectedly.
Furthermore, the man had double-crossed Max. And although the matter had mostly resolved itself, Max couldn’t help but feel bitter. Especially now that Standish had been invited to participate in a few of their secret meetings at the Domus Emporium.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Dreadful business. Very unfortunate. The major-domo introduced her and her brother, and she looked very pretty, actually, standing at the top of the steps looking over Standish’s ballroom, wearing one of Madam Chantal’s latest designs—a baby blue silk with those new puffed sleeves. Quite striking, really.” Wrinkles appeared on his mother’s forehead.
“And…?” Max prompted her.
“As she began descending, she stepped on the hem of that magnificent creation, tearing it and losing her balance at the same time. The earl made a gallant effort to keep her from falling, but it was too late. But that’s not even the worst of it. When she landed, her skirts had twisted around her waist.” His mother ended the last part on a whisper. “I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”
Max lifted his brows, his imagination already at work. Her ankles were no doubt slim, and her thighs creamy and soft. He dismissed the image for another time.
If Lady Caroline hadn’t so thoroughly insulted his paper, he would almost feel sorry for her. “Was she hurt?”
“I’m sure she walked away with a few bruises, but it’s her reputation that suffered the most. I can’t imagine any gentleman of consequence will want to associate with her now, not after she made such a spectacle of herself. I daresay, if Lord Standish cared enough to consider her feelings, he’d have sent her back to the country already.”
