night, silent and set on his current goal—to save Lady Maryann from a spoiled debutante’s merciless plot.
He rubbed the back of his neck, admitting with a silent snarl that it served his purpose to think he was running to rescue her. The truth of the matter was it would be more likely that he would be saving them from her wrath and rapier.
God, he hoped so, for if Talbot touched her, the man would lose the hand with which he created the offense.
Chapter Twelve
Another day of endless rounds of social calls, another night of attending a ball where Maryann stood on the sidelines with her mother indulgently looking on, content in her delusion that her daughter’s reputation had not suffered a blow. Maryann had refused to attend, but Crispin had begged her to cease aggravating their mother’s nerves, and Maryann had relented. Attending a ball did not mean acceptance of a marriage offer.
Maryann would give it an hour before pleading a headache and making her way home. Several dancing couples glided the intricate steps of a minuet, others reposed on chaise longues, while others stood drinking champagne and laughing. She watched Crispin’s graceful form as he moved with his current partner, Miss Lydia Moncrieff, who peered up at him with her heart on her sleeves.
That tender look of longing brought a hot lump to Maryann’s throat. Merely existing these days was proving itself a tiresome business, a notion which filled her with guilt. She had many blessings to be thankful for, but Maryann couldn’t escape anymore that she lived a life she found unbearable.
“I am not content with my lot. I cannot believe any of you are happy with your situation. We must be daring and take what we need instead of waiting, wasting away on the shelves our family and society have placed us on.”
The very impassioned words she had flung at her group of friends now haunted her, taunting her earlier confidence that she could direct the outcome of her happiness. Her one daring moment had been to claim a ruination that did not belong to her, and these last few weeks she had witnessed the power of her mother and father working to squash those rumors. That ball where Nicolas danced with her should have been the icing on the cake. And the scandal sheet that thought it worth a mention would have been adding ice cream to the decadent bowl.
Instead, despite every provocation, her parents wielded their influence with notable lords and ladies in the ton, to show the world all of Maryann’s missteps were simply charming eccentricities. But whereas before she had faded into the background, tonight when she entered Lady Vidal’s brightly lit ballroom, many had stared, fans had lifted to mouths, and the whispers were rabid.
Those in the ballroom seemed to be unsure how to interact with her. Surprisingly, a few sighs of envy from ladies had been aimed at Maryann, but there had also been cutting speculations. Even a few ladies who usually ignored her presence engaged her in brief conversation. Maryann wasn’t certain if that was due to her parents’ influence, or if dancing with the marquess had done the opposite: given her a stamp of approval that she was sought after…perhaps elusive.
Her society was so changeable, it was ridiculous.
What else must I do?
She opened her fan, waving it gently to and fro, wishing she were anywhere but here. None of her friends seemed to be in attendance, and she wondered why Charlotte had not come tonight after promising it.
I must remember to call upon her tomorrow.
A nameless agitation was upon Maryann, and it had nothing to do with the very direct and ungentlemanly stare from Lord Stamford. How surprising that he was at almost every ball she attended, when he had been conspicuously absent the last few seasons.
Maryann vowed to refuse him should he approach her for any dances.
To the earl’s credit, he did not approach her, and she wondered at his restraint. Perhaps after his failure to compromise her, he had moved on to another lady. Quite wishful thinking on her part, for though he must have heard the wicked rumors, he did not break the alliance.
“Excuse me, my lady,” someone at her elbow said.
She turned to see a hovering footman. He held out a folded note to her. “Your friend bid me to deliver this to you.”
With a frown, she took it from him, unfolding the paper.
Maryann, the most dreadful thing has happened. I need you to come