Page 23
She had the odd urge to giggle, as an image of herself in her green gown pinned to a display board popped into her head. And then one of Lady Calbraith, those unnaturally perky bosoms sticking out, as she was pinned to a similar board.
Megan squeezed Nicolette’s hand again.
Ah, she’d also observed the malevolence in the woman’s eyes.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Westfall?” Lady Calbraith breathed in a husky bedroom voice while coyly fluttering her eyelashes. Well, her voice was what Nicolette imagined a bedroom voice would sound like, in any event.
She almost rolled her eyes at the woman’s theatrical performance.
There was no doubt that Lady Calbraith was a practiced flirt. A coquette. And given her choice of gown—which Nicolette strongly suspected she wore nothing beneath—perhaps not so very far removed in station from that of a demimonde.
In truth, women of her ilk did much more than flutter eyelashes and expose vast amounts of breasts. Nicolette wasn’t so naive that she didn’t recognize a woman of the world. And the viscountess quite obviously had eyes for Mathias.
Something very much like jealousy jabbed Nicolette’s ribs.
But that was ridiculous.
She had no claim on Mathias nor he on her.
He sighed, sending Nicolette a look tinged with regret. Or was that shadow deepening his eyes to navy-blue apologetic?
What in the world?
“Oh, there’s no need to introduce me to Mrs. and Miss Twistleton,” Lord Crawley assured the viscountess, jovially. “We are already well-acquainted.” From his slightly slurred speech, he’d imbibed deeply tonight already. “I am not, however, acquainted with this young lady.”
He all but leered at Megan, in full view of her brother, too.
Mathias flexed his jaw.
He’d perceived as much as well, and for a heartbeat, Nicolette thought he’d refuse the introductions.
Mama coughed delicately behind her hand, a not so subtle hint to get on with it and dispel the expectant, highly charged, atmosphere.
With another pulse of his jaw, Mathias proceeded with the introductions. “Crawley, my sister, Mrs. Megan Bridgham.” Mathias angled toward his sister and extended an arm. “Megan, Warren, Earl of Crawley.”
If Mathias had thought to dissuade the earl’s interest by mentioning Megan’s marital status—well, former status—he’d made an error in judgment. If anything, the earl’s expression became all the more lecherous.
Did he think Megan was the type of married woman who looked for entertainment outside her marriage? Hmm, given his present company, the notion mightn’t be so ridiculous.
Crawley was a most apt name, indeed.
He made Nicolette’s skin crawl, and from the way Megan had stepped nearer her and tucked her hand into the bend in Nicolette’s arm, he did the same to her.
Mathias inclined his dark head toward Lady Calbraith, and an unmistakable chill coloring his tone, stiffly said, “Megan, Mrs. Twistleton, Miss Twistleton, may I introduce Victoria Melbourne, Viscountess Calbraith?”
They all dipped curtsies, and the viscountess fairly preened under the attention.
Nicolette seldom formed an opinion from a first meeting, but she did not like this woman. Not her haughty looks or condescending, superior attitude. The only reason Mama wasn’t the Dowager Countess of Scarborough and Nicolette wasn’t Lady Nicolette was because Ansley had inherited the earldom from an uncle, rather than his father.
“My lady, my sister Megan Bridgham, Mrs. Mary Twistleton, and Miss Nicolette Twistleton,” Mathias finished.
“Twistleton? Why do I know that name?” The viscountess arched a perfectly plucked white-blonde eyebrow and made a small moue with her rosebud mouth. “Any relation to Ansley Twistleton, Earl of Scarborough?” Lady Calbraith asked, edging closer to Mathias.
Was she serious?
Twistleton wasn’t exactly a common name.
“He is my son,” Mama said, coolness leaking into her voice and her disapproving stare.
