with these vixens. Need to show a bit more discrimination in the petticoat line.’
Michael laughed and rose from the table in a lazy movement. ‘Put your mind to rest, Charles. I have no interest in renewing a relationship with Lady Marchant. Ready to go? There’s a pair of chestnuts up for auction at Tattersall’s I’ve been wanting to see.’
Michael only half-attended to his cousin’s conversation as they made their way to the auction yard. Instead, he found himself thinking of Lady Jeffreys. Would she be present at Lady Winthrope’s rout? He hoped so, for he had the perfect excuse for speaking to her. After his aunt had departed, Watkins had presented him with a small folded fan, saying he believed it belonged to the young lady. Michael had taken the fan, assuring Watkins he would personally see it was returned to its owner.
Chapter Two
‘I was sorry to hear of your brother’s troubles. I know how much Meryton means to you,’ Edmund Fairchilde said softly. ‘Perhaps there is something I could do to help.’
Rosalyn looked up into his cool, hooded eyes, and wished she could escape from him. However, it was impossible in Lady Winthrope’s crowded drawing room unless she was to clamber over one of the guests behind her.
‘Thank you, there is nothing you can do. But, how did you know? I had thought it was a private game.’ She tried to keep the dismay from her voice. She had hoped no one outside of Lord Stamford, James and herself knew about the wager.
A faint smile touched his thin lips. ‘I was also there, my lady. I had hoped there was something I could do, but alas, Stamford rarely loses. It makes one wonder…but, his temper, one hates to suggest…At any rate, do not worry, only the three of us were present, and I am very discreet.’
‘Thank you.’ She managed a smile, not certain she trusted him at all. He had been a visitor to Meryton, coming down once with a group of her brother’s friends. Although he had been charmingly courteous, there was something about his hooded gaze, particularly the way it sometimes rested on her, that made her uneasy.
‘But I do wish to offer my help.’ He smiled again. ‘Before you protest, you must hear my proposal. I am not without resources, and I should hate to see you turned from your family home. Come driving with me tomorrow, and I shall tell you my proposition.’
‘That is very kind, but I…I shall be busy tomorrow.’
‘Will you? Then the next day.’ His eyes rested on her face as if he wanted to calculate the impact of his words. ‘I have longed for the opportunity to become better acquainted with you ever since I saw you at Meryton.’
‘My dear, there you are!’
Relieved, she turned to see her grandmother, Lady Carlyn, suddenly appear next to her. Lady Carlyn acknowledged Fairchilde with a cool smile. ‘If you will excuse us, sir, I must introduce my granddaughter to Lady Carruthers. I fear she is about to leave.’ She dragged Rosalyn away, but not before Rosalyn saw Fairchilde’s brows snap together in sudden anger.
Lady Carlyn marched Rosalyn from the drawing room to an adjoining room, then stopped. ‘My dear, you should not be talking to Edmund Fairchilde. His reputation is, well, not quite what it should be. People will talk.’
‘I didn’t wish to talk with him. He approached me. He is an acquaintance of James’s.’
‘Indeed. I must say I am surprised at James, although he has been going about with some rather wild young men. I hope he will settle down soon enough and properly manage Meryton. It has been most careless of him to leave you to do so. Women have no business running estates.’
Rosalyn said nothing. She had not yet informed her grandmother that James had gambled away Meryton. For once she was thankful that her grandmother’s mind tended to jump from subject to subject. ‘However, we must concentrate on you. What did you think of Neville Hastings?’
‘Neville Hastings?’ Rosalyn finally recalled a plump, man with thinning hair and creaking corsets. Lady Carlyn had introduced him to her when they first arrived. ‘He seemed very nice, I suppose.’
‘A bit plump, although a diet of rice and water would help. But twenty thousand pounds a year, that is nothing to sneeze at in a husband.’
‘A husband?’
‘Why, yes, for you, my love.’
‘Grandmama! I don’t want a husband!’
‘But of course you do. You are only six-and-twenty and still quite pretty. I must own Neville Hastings is not quite what I had in mind. Someone with a bit more dash.’
‘I never plan to remarry.’
‘Of course, it will be someone you like,’ Lady Carlyn continued, paying no heed to Rosalyn as usual. ‘I have several eligible men in mind.’
Her sharp grey eyes darted around the packed drawing room, seeking more prey. ‘I see Lord Brandon has arrived. He is searching for a wife. A pity he has five children, but I know you are very fond…’
‘Please, no! I am rather tired. I would like to rest for a few minutes.’
Lady Carlyn fidgeted with her fan, then snapped it shut. ‘Very well. You may stay here. I must admit, you do look a trifle pale. No use having you faint, although Ellen Winthrope would consider that the highest compliment! I must have a few words with Maria Smythe-Howard and then we can leave.’
Rosalyn watched her grandmother make her way through the packed room, a small plump figure dressed in a gown of orange satin completely unsuitable for a woman of more advanced years. The dictates of fashion meant nothing to Lady Carlyn.
Rosalyn shifted uncomfortably. Her feet hurt from standing, her mouth ached from smiling, and her head pounded from the strain of making conversation in the impossible noise. There was no place to sit, as all the furniture had been removed to accommodate the several hundred people Lady Winthrope expected to parade through her rooms.
At least she was free of her grandmother for a few minutes. Lady Carlyn’s unflagging energy was exhausting. And this hare-brained notion of finding her a husband…she had enough to distress her without fighting her grandmother’s schemes.
Her thoughts turned to James, as they had all day. Ever since their mother’s death, four years earlier, he’d become more and more unmanageable. She no longer knew how to reach him. Somehow, she had believed if she tried to preserve Meryton for him, he would return, for he had once loved Meryton as much as she did. Now Meryton was lost and, in her heart, she feared he was lost also.
‘Oh!’ She gasped as a stout gentlemen stepped back, jostling her with such force that she lost her balance and stumbled sideways against a tall, hard form. Strong hands caught her bare arms, causing an unexpected warmth to course through her.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said in confusion.
‘There is no need to apologise. I am always delighted when beautiful ladies fall into my arms.’
That familiar, detestable voice caused her heart to stop. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet the Marquis of Stamford’s laughing eyes. For the briefest of moments, he seemed not to recognise her, and then, a wicked grin spread across his face.
‘Why,
