Was this…love?
Argyll waited for the rush of panic.
Strange it didn’t come.
His skin prickled.
Recalling his audience, he looked up and found every last Kearsley sister staring at him.
He had to say something here. Something around the knot in his throat. “Dare I ask how that news traveled your way so quickly?”
“I suggest you find something else to say,” Cora advised with a terrifying smile. “Daring us is a dangerous proposition at this time, Argyll.”
“Shh,” Brenna whispered, sliding an elbow into the taller girl’s side. “He feels badly enough.”
“He should,” Cora muttered.
“Heshouldget his arse to Lord and Lady Abington’s,” the marchioness reminded with a gentleness Argyll didn’t deserve.
Argyll came all the way to his feet.
Bowing his head, he pressed a hand to his chest. “Give me your pardon. I’ve done Daria wrong. What I have done…I here proclaim was madness.”
A resounding quiet met his apology. The Kearsleys looked amongst themselves and settled on Daria’s twin.
Argyll remained with palm to heart.
Delia angled her head, contemplating him.
And it was all he could do not to rush her along so he could get to Lord and Lady Abington’s. Argyll managed restraint.
His efforts were rewarded in the form of Delia’s first real smile for him. “Yes, it was, madness, Argyll.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make the mistake again. It won’t go well for you.”
Five sisters made matching slashing motions at their throats.
“Duly noted,” he said.
Argyll took a step to go, but he remembered that he had a gathering of young ladies, all of whom needed to be properly delivered.
Lady Landon came forward and patted the top of his hand. “Worry, not, Your Grace, my husband is waiting in the parlor next door for our meeting to conclude. He will see us home.”
Argyll took in a previously neglected detail. The marchioness’s luxuriant evening tire.
She’d been in attendance at Lady Abington’s.
Emotion clogged his throat. “How…was she?” he asked hoarsely.
“Sad,” Anwen responded without hesitation.
An invisible fist slammed into him.
“I originally had alternate evening plans, but my husband has a way of finding out information. When he discovered she’d be in attendance, he suggested we alter our plans.”
This was family. Ladies who’d learned their sister was in trouble and sought out the bounder responsible for her pain, and demanded he do better.
His throat moved painfully.
He was beginning to understand it, even though he’d never experienced it—mostly on account of the walls he’d crafted.
