If Evie was an earl in search of a wife, she’d want to marry Martha as well.
Even her laugh sounded like wind chimes.
It was quite irritating, actually. But for all that Martha’s presence set Evie’s teeth on edge, she couldn’t seem to make herself look away.
Thus the staring.
“What can you tell me about her?” she asked Rosemary in a low tone so as not to be overheard by the other guests. The table–the longest she’d ever sat at–was filled to overflowing with all facets of the British aristocracy. There were lords and ladies. Dukes and viscounts. Businessmen and scholars. It would take Evie a day, if not more, to learn everyone’s name. This even after they’d all gone around at Brynne’s invitation and introduced themselves.
When it was Evie’s turn, there’d been an excited buzz of chatter. Much to her surprise, it had rapidly dwindled. Given the stir that she and Joanna had made when they attended the Countess of Beresford’s ball, she’d been expecting all sorts of questions and gossip. But it appeared thetonhad a short attention span, and while the return of Lord Dorchester’s illegitimate daughter and her sister had made headlines last week, they were already sniffing after a more exciting scandal. Especially given that Evie’s mere presence at the house party indicated that the Westons had accepted their American blood into the family fold with no more drama to be had.
“Who?” Rosemary asked as she slathered butter onto a piece of toasted bread. She peered at Evie’s untouched plate of food. “Are you going to eat your eggs?”
“Take whatever you’d like. And I want to know about Lady Martha Smethwick.”
“Oh.” Biting off a piece of bread, Rosemary chewed thoughtfully. “There’s not much to tell, really.”
“Is she positively awful?” Evie asked hopefully. “Does she kick small puppies and terrorize children?”
Rosemary blinked. “Not that I’ve ever seen. She is always kind to me. One of the few diamonds that is.”
“Diamonds?”
“A term used in thetonto describe a debutante of the highest quality,” her cousin explained. “It’s not as common nowadays, but were Lady Martha born at the beginning of the century, that’s what everyone would have called her. I’m more of a quartz, myself. But Lady Martha…definitely a diamond of the first water.” Rosemary stabbed a chunk of roasted potato with her fork. “Did you know she is rumored to soon be engaged to the Earl of Hawkridge? Grandmother heard whispers that it might even happenhere, during the house party.”
“I’ve heard.” As Evie slumped in her chair, she wished she could slide right under the table. Having seen her competition firsthand, she recognized that her plan to woo Weston away from Martha had been a fool’s errand all along. She may have been a diamond in Somerville, but in England, without a title or a dowry or any social influence of which to speak of, she found herself in the same category as Rosemary.
Quartz was by no means an ugly or undesirable gem.
But it certainly did not compare to a diamond.
Weston was going to marry someone else.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
“I…I need some fresh air.” Several heads turned when Evie shoved her chair back and stood up, including Brynne’s, who was seated several chairs over to her left.
“Are you all right?”Weston’s sister mouthed.
Evie summoned a tight grin and gave a curt nod. Squeezing behind the row of chairs, she managed to keep her pace at a slow, measured walk until she’d quit the solarium.
And then she ran.
“What are youwaiting for?” Brynne hissed, giving Weston a sharp nudge with her elbow. “Go after her!”
His gaze pinned to the door that Evie had just exited through, he brushed off his twin’s demand with an irritated hitch of his shoulder. “You’ve only just finished chastising me for being late to the breakfast, and now you want me to leave in the middle of it?”
“There are some things more important than proper etiquette.”
“You go after her, then.”
Brynne sipped her champagne, then flicked him a smug glance over the top of the crystal flute. “I would, but I am not the one she is trying to escape. I don’t know what you did, West, but you need to make it right.”
“I didn’tdoanything,” he snapped, even as his fists clenched into knotted balls of tension beneath the tablecloth. “Unless you count the fact that I rescued her damned lamb. Again.”
“Is that why you came in dressed like a pig in slop?”
“I do not wish to discuss it.”
