found it impolite. One of the runners could be sent upstairs to escort Lady Isley back to the public area. Before he could turn, she grabbed the lapels of his coat, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
36
Margaret glanced down at the table, making herself as small as possible lest Winthrop decide to come her way, and attempted to hide herself behind Georgina.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Georgina glanced toward the door, noticing for the first time, not Smith, but the man the giant actually held in his grip. “Oh, dear. Winthrop. I was certain he’d been banned.”
Margaret snuck a peek around her friend’s shoulder. Her former suitor was mopping at his forehead with a handkerchief and scowling. Garbed in a brown velvet jacket trimmed in gold braid, he looked like an oversized chocolate truffle wrapped in foil and spoiling in the sun.
“Good Lord, he’s terrible,” Georgina said with a glance down at her cards. “Your aunt meant to give you to that sweating mass of velvet?”
“Yes,” Margaret said, scanning the room behind her, looking for Welles. Movement caught her eye on one of the second-floor balconies. A woman pressed herself rather seductively into a gentleman who didn’t seem to be resisting her. Lady Isley and—
Bile turned her mouth bitter. Surely not.
Lady Isley, the redhead who’d so scornfully examined Margaret a short time ago and found her wanting was now on the balcony directly above the gaming floor, locked in a passionate embrace with…Welles. Margaret’s head whipped back down sharply, Winthrop and the faro game forgotten.
“Maggie? What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
She looked down at her hand of faro, disinterested in the remainder of the game. And she was even wearing one of the new gowns her husband had chosen for her. A deep, jeweled sapphire that matched his eyes. Jerking her head in the direction of the landing, she lifted her glass, draining the contents.
Georgina followed the motion, her eyes widening as she caught sight of what was transpiring on the landing above them. “Maggie, I’m sure it isn’t—”
“I need some air. Please excuse me.” She closed her eyes for only a moment but even when she did, Margaret could still see Lady Isley and Welles. Pushing away from the table, she brushed off a startled Georgina and started through the gaming floor. Weaving her way between various card tables, roulette, and dice, Margaret’s only thought was to get as far away from Welles and Elysium as she could.
At least I won’t wonder any longer about Welles taking a mistress.
Wounded and angry, Margaret was at the far end of the floor when the horrible smell of talc and sweat filled her nostrils. A giant, pear-shaped form blocked her way, looming over her in brown velvet.
“You.”
Tony turned his head and Lady Isley’s mouth landed on his chin. He pushed her away in annoyance, nose wrinkling at the overabundance of perfume she wore.
She made a poof of surprise at his rejection, the look on her finely sculpted features almost comical.
Had the circumstances been different, Welles might have laughed out loud at Lady Isley’s shock. But Winthrop’s whine of indignation reached his ears, so loud it could be heard above the din of the gaming tables. The man sounded like a screeching rooster.
Lady Isley pouted. “What is it? Her? Oh, come now Welles, we can be discreet. My understanding is she’s a timid thing at best.”
Timid was the last thing Welles would have called his wife. Quietly determined would be a better description.
“I have a room set aside for us,” Lady Isley continued. “And a friend downstairs who can join us, if you like. You’ve enjoyed such things in the past. Surely you need a change from the little…sapling you’ve been—”
“Lady Isley,” he said in a chilly voice, “I bid you good evening.” He had caught a glimpse of his wife’s petite form as she sidestepped Winthrop and continued toward the far end of the gaming floor, apparently unaware Winthrop continued to stalk her from behind.
“Welles—” Lady Isley tried to stop him, and he shook her off.
Tony strode quickly down the hallway to the back staircase, intent on intercepting Winthrop before the man could catch up with Maggie again. His wife wasn’t in any real danger from her past suitor; Leo had runners all over the floor who all knew Lady Welles. Even now, he saw Peckam cross the floor, his head turned in the direction of Maggie. Nodding to two other runners, the three men spread out to