The countess wrapped her hand around Charlotte’s elbow and tugged her forward, clearly attempting to have them cross directly in front of the Marquess to gain his attention. Caught utterly off guard, Charlotte instinctively resisted. But her aunt was surprisingly strong and managed to pull her off balance. She stumbled forward with a gasp and an abrupt drop of her stomach.
The marquess was moving far too swiftly through the crowd, his gaze intently focused beyond them toward the ballroom exit. Though her aunt managed to nip clear of the inevitable collision, Charlotte had no chance to regain her balance before he was suddenly there.
Still struggling to get her feet beneath her, her stomach plummeted as she glanced up in horror to catch a swift and indelible impression of a fine black coat, snowy white cravat, and stern-set features angled slightly away from her.
As his large form collided rather forcefully with hers, her aunt’s short sound of dismay was overwhelmed by Redington’s low grunted exhale. The harsh, gravelly sound was not something Charlotte would have expected to hear from a gentleman of such reserve and sophistication. Nor did she anticipate that the firm grip of his large hands around her ribcage as he grasped ahold of her would feel so competent and…intimate as he pulled her into the curve of his body.
She instinctively gripped his forearm, flickering another glance to his face which showed a fiercely tense jawline and the darkest, heaviest scowl she’d ever seen. His glare was hooded and intense—boring straight to the core of her. Her stomach bounced back into place, forcing a sharp exhale as every nerve in her body seemed to suddenly sizzle and dance. Everything tingled and for a swift, irrational second, she honestly feared she might burst into flames.
To her astonishment, he not only kept her from being knocked to the floor but he actually managed to move her to the side and out of his way. All while barely breaking his stride.
Before she could fully comprehend her wildly inexplicable physical reaction, his upper lip curled as he muttered harshly beneath his breath, “Just once I’d like to make it across a room without some overzealous chit throwing herself at me.”
The flame of awareness that had been ignited inside her, exploded with a blast of ire and indignation.
Charlotte gasped at his insulting tone and degrading words.
Overzealous chit?
Throwing herself?
The gall! The pure arrogance! How dare he?
Before she could overcome her shocked outrage and gather her wits, he’d set her aside with a short, perfunctory bow of his head before continuing on his way in a long, determined stride, dismissing her and the incident without even a token apology or hint of concern.
Charlotte was left standing awkwardly—her cheeks aflame and her belly trembling—as belittling glances and snickers of amusement danced around her.
One of the things that had put the Marquess of Redington on her list was his powerful social influence. And now, she was suddenly faced with the evidence of just how influential his opinion could be. It was obvious that she wasn’t the only one tohave heard his rude comment. Even if no one elsehadheard it, his dismissive attitude had been clear and undeniable.
Fury burned hot beneath Charlotte’s skin.
Her aunt quickly came forward with an expression so apologetic and genuine Charlotte immediately discounted her initial suspicion that the unfortunate incident had been intentionally manufactured.
“Just smile, dear,” Lady Henmere muttered tensely behind her own forced smile. “Don’t show any distress.”
Knowing she’d have to repair the damage done by the marquess’s rude and demeaning behavior immediately or not at all, Charlotte decided to make light of the situation, hoping everyone else would follow suit. She managed a short, self-deprecating chuckle and spoke just a bit louder than necessary. “Let’s hope I have a bit more grace on the dance floor.”
The countess smiled ruefully and muttered beneath her breath, “It can’t exactly get any worse.”
Charlotte laughed in truth at that. The warm, robust sound drew even more curious glances.
Though she would’ve preferred to call it a night, Charlotte looped her arm through her aunt’s and flashed her most charming smile. “Shall we take a turn about the room and see who else I mightbump into?”
The countess gave a nod and lifted her chin. “Oh, there’s Lord Harkner, an old friend. I must introduce you.”
It turned out to be an astute and effective choice as the handsome, middle-aged gentleman in question greeted their approach with a ready smile and a gentlemanly bow, an attitude that was sharply incongruent to Redington’s. And soon enough, everyone’s attention shifted back to other interests and curiosities. Charlotte prayed that complete social disaster had been safely averted.
But as she made small talk with Lord Harkner, she couldn’t help but recall the hard force of Redington’s glare and the disgust in his tone as he’d physically set her aside without the slightest consideration for her welfare. She wouldn’t forget how easily his harsh and dismissive behavior toward her could have ended her ambitions. His ugly words—even if not entirely untrue—had been callous and careless. Surely, the man was aware of his influence over the ton. He had to know that his response would be observed and noted.
The marquess obviously didn’t care whose prospects he ruined.
With a harsh twist of injured pride, she mentally scratched his name from her list of prospective grooms and added it to the very short list of people she hated.
Chapter Three
Ralston Fairchild, theMarquess of Redington and heir to the Duke of Lindley, stalked stonily from the ballroom.
In the back of his mind, he acknowledged that he’d been a bit harsh with the young woman who’d nearly sent them both tumbling to the marble floor. He probably could’ve handled that moment better, but his concern was far too consumed by the desperately urgent tone of the note he’d just received.
