“In the meantime, I have just the thing to keep Glory occupied. I shall send it over tomorrow morning,” Tessa said.
“Oh, that is too kind. You needn’t—”
“I insist.”
“What are you insisting upon, sprite?” Harry Kent joined the group. He wasn’t alone.
Two exceedingly handsome gentlemen accompanied him. They shared his tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped build. The three were the epitome of male virility, and Maggie noticed ladies eyeing them covetously, though the men had no eyes for anyone but their own wives.
The newcomers were introduced as the Dukes of Strathaven and Acton. Strathaven was ebony-haired and debonair, his pale green gaze warm and possessive as it settled upon Emma. Acton, a bronze-haired Adonis, also wasted no time in claiming his duchess; his arm slid around Polly’s waist, his stormy blue eyes taking her in as if the rest of the world ceased to exist.
Maggie’s breath caught at the love and passionate attraction that sizzled between the men and their wives. It was clear that these marriages were love matches…the sort of relationship she dreamed of one day having with Rhys. And if Emma and Polly, professed country mice, could become duchesses adored by their dukes, could it be possible for Maggie too?
“We were just sharing a chat between ladies,” Tessa said blithely.
“Are you too busy to have a dance?” her husband asked.
“Never too busy for you, darling.”
“Excuse us,” Harry Kent said, sweeping his wife off to the dance floor.
The Dukes of Strathaven and Acton followed suit with their ladies.
“I guess it’s just you and…” Gabby trailed off, her gaze catching on something behind Maggie. Pivoting, Maggie saw the gentleman approaching them. Tall and lean, he radiated an air of ruthless elegance, from his slicked-back black hair to his sharp features.
“My dear.” He bowed to Gabby, who looked as besotted as a newlywed.
“What are you d-doing here?” she stammered. “I thought you had another event tonight.”
“I left early and thought you might like a ride home.” A black brow winged. “Unless you would rather stay with…your new friend?”
“Oh, where are my manners!” Clearly flustered, Gabby turned to Maggie. “Mrs. Foley, I’d like you to meet my husband, Mr. Garrity.”
A chill snaked down Maggie’s spine as Garrity’s fathomless gaze met hers. She had the distinct feeling that he already knew who she was. That, unlike his sweet, rather naïve wife, he knew entirely too much.
“A pleasure, ma’am.” He bent over her hand.
All of a sudden, Maggie felt a solid masculine presence behind her.
“Garrity.” Rhys’s greeting sounded more like a warning.
“Your Grace.” Garrity’s smile was razor-sharp. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife.”
After a brief hesitation, Rhys bowed. “How do you do, madam?”
“I hope you are enjoying the ball, Your Grace.” Seemingly oblivious to the tension, Gabby spoke in cheery tones. “I must confess my evening was ever so improved by meeting your lovely Mrs. Foley.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mrs. Garrity.” Rhys’s gaze remained fixed on her husband.
The moneylender held out his arm. “My dear, are you ready?”
“Yes, of course.” Gabby gave him a look of pure adoration. As she was led off, she abruptly turned and waved. “I hope to see you both soon!”
Maggie waved back.
Rhys muttered, “What was that about?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said, bemused. “Tessa introduced me to her sisters-in-law, and Mrs. Garrity was with them. She seems quite lovely.”
