“The first dance, Lady Maribel.”
The debutante breathed a contented sigh. “A prize indeed, Lord Rothwell.”
CHAPTER4
Of all that Gray knew about Evangeline Granger, her disdain for dancing was unwavering. Whether her refusal was due to lack of skill or interest, he couldn’t be sure. But it always gave him a little satisfaction that she refused everyone, not only him.
Yet with all his knowledge about Evie and dancing, he was disappointed when she didn’t reappear after the parlor games.
He’d known she wouldn’t accept an offer to take a turn about the ballroom, but he’d still craved her presence.
And now, nearly an hour after the dancing had ended and he’d joined the other noblemen for conversation and drinks in the billiard room, she lingered in his thoughts.
After stepping from the spot where he’d been sequestered with her behind the library drapery, he’d imagined he could smell her lily scent on his clothes the rest of the evening.
He drew in a deep breath and smiled.
“So, which will you offer for?” Lord Jameson asked as he positioned his cue for what they’d all agreed would be the last drink and the last game of pool before retiring.
“He certainly has an eager lot to choose from,” Lord Montgomery put in.
Gray stifled a yawn, not only because he had no wish to discuss the eligible young ladies, but he’d passed exhausted hours ago. Now his body was running on whisky and worry over the prospect of marrying one of the women he’d met in the past nine hours. No, that wasn’t quite true. He’d met all of them before, of course, at balls and soirées during the London Season. But he’d never given any of them any particular notice, never befriended or courted any lady.
Thus, the need for this bloody house party.
“Lady Imogen seems a rather bothersome female,” Lord Grissom opined. “A plethora ofopinions, that one.”
Grissom had always been an ungenerous, unimaginative bore, in Gray’s opinion. He had no idea what had possessed his aunt to invite the man.
“Ladies have opinions, Grissom, much as men do.” Gray tipped back his glass of whiskey and swallowed the final dram. “Someone should have told you.”
Jameson let out a chortle of laughter, and then the room fell silent.
“So pick her if you’re so keen,” Grissom said in a tone as irritating as the man himself.
“I have a fortnight to choose,” Gray quipped. “Don’t rush me.”
“Lady Maribel is a true beauty,” Montgomery said as he chalked his cue and waited for Jameson to take his shot. “And she seems spirited in the best of ways.”
Gray found her to be overeager, though he understood. He wasn’t the only one at the house party who felt the duty to marry. Whether they’d accepted the invitation because of their desire for matrimony or out of the necessity of doing their duty, the mothers and chaperones who’d accompanied them let off a kind of palpable urgency that he could read on all the ladies’ faces despite their smiles.
“I’m curious about the redhead,” Jameson mused. “The pretty, sharp-tongued one who lurks at the side of the room as she does in ballrooms during the Season. That red hair and green glare are hard to ignore. Why is she not in the mix of prospective brides?”
At the reference to Evangeline, everything in front of Gray became shaded in crimson. With drink and fatigue numbing his usual inhibitions, he was on his feet and heading straight toward Jameson when Montgomery stepped in to stall his progress.
“He meant no offense, Rothwell.” Montgomery glanced back at his fellow billiards player. “Miss Granger is a personal friend of the marquess, I believe.”
Jameson held up a hand in mock surrender. “I intended no insult, Rothwell. Miss Granger is rather becoming and seems a mystery. I wondered why she’s been left out.”
Gray clenched his jaw, balled his fists, and willed himself to stop seeing red.
“I’ll bid you all goodnight. If I know my aunt and Lady Worthington, I promise they have a full schedule planned for tomorrow, and activities will commence early.”
On his way out of the door, Gray swiped the nearly empty whiskey decanter from the drinks cart. There wasn’t much left, but he suddenly felt the need for its numbing power.
Good grief, why the hell was he so touchy when it came to Evangeline? And why couldn’t he stop thinking of the blasted woman?
He climbed the stairs and made his way down the long hallway to his room, but movement ahead caused him pause halfway. The last thing he wanted was to encounter one of the ladies in the state he was in. His patience for polite conversation had dried up hours ago.
