Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,86
called Temperance out so splendidly in the carriage. The busybodies continued with their cruel gossip.
“Well, my mother said,” one of the ladies said loudly, “it of course shocks no one that they should find her brother, a common pickpocket, living on the streets . . .”
There was nothing common about Dare Grey. The ton, however, would think of him as a common street pickpocket, never imagining that he’d robbed at a grand level that could have seen Dare with houses and riches to rival any lord . . . but who’d instead given it away.
“Scandal follows them all, is what my mama said,” another of the pale-faced ladies piped in.
“Well, my mother says the lady not only allowed herself to be seduced by a scoundrel . . .” That last utterance was spoken more loudly than all the others, a statement made with the intention that it be heard. Altogether, the group directed their stares at Lady Kinsley. The lady in question’s mouth tensed, and her cheeks fired red. “But she’s also carrying his babe . . . That is what my mama said anyway.”
This was what accounted for Lady Kinsley’s bitterness and resentment, her ill opinion of men.
Oh, that was really quite enough.
“It is unfortunate that your mothers have so much to say in front of you,” Temperance drawled.
One of the ladies—the leader of the trio—bristled. “And why is that?”
“Because if they didn’t, we’d have blessed silence, as the three of you don’t appear to have a brain in your heads.”
As one, three mouths fell agape, and the trio’s eyes went impossibly round.
The white-clad lady in the middle was the only one to find her voice. “How dare you? Who do you think you are?”
There’d come time enough later to worry about the scandal she’d caused and the powerful enemies she’d found in some peer’s daughter. As it was now, all Temperance was capable of was the same Scot’s fury her mother had lamented. “How dare I scold three gossips speaking unkindly about another person in public?” She arched a brow. “I’d expect it is a far more egregious offense to be a busybody than the one calling them out.” With that, she marched off to assess a pair of ribbons hanging from a clever netting affixed to the ceiling.
“Well!” The only one with a voice amongst them stuck her nose in the air, and with a snap of her fingers that saw the other girls in line behind her, they marched over to three older, plumper versions of themselves.
Temperance tested the fabric of the ribbons, measuring the quality.
She tensed as a person joined her, and then identifying her visitor, Temperance went back to her appraisal.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Lady Kinsley said tersely.
“No. I don’t have to do anything.” Well, that wasn’t altogether true. She did have to remain here in London and play the role of chaperone to Dare’s sister if she wished to earn her five thousand pounds. But even that was a voluntary decision. “I spoke up to those women because I wanted to.”
“Why would you want to? You don’t even know me, beyond . . .” Beyond how nasty she’d been earlier to Temperance.
Temperance released a pale-blue satin ribbon and exchanged it for an ivory lace one. “I have a greater problem with women gossiping about others than with direct, forthright ones who tell a person precisely how they’re feeling.”
“Even if said person is telling you she doesn’t like you or trust you?” Kinsley asked, trailing close at Temperance’s heels as she moved down the aisle.
“I would say there’s all the more reason to trust someone who tells a woman precisely how she’s feeling. One knows precisely where one stands.”
The other woman hesitated. “Thank you,” she said gruffly. “For . . .”
Temperance spared Dare’s sister from having to humble herself. “You needn’t thank me.”
And just like that . . . there was an unspoken truce forged between them.
Kinsley stepped closer and spoke from the side of her mouth. “Ava, Anabelle, and Araneid are their names. They are the nastiest gossips, and also diamonds of the first waters. They’re very exclusive and live to make everyone whom is not accepted as part of them . . . absolutely miserable.”
“Ahh,” Temperance said in like, hushed tones. “There is that sort in every end of London.”
“Now, their mothers?” her sister-in-law continued to whisper. “They’ll invite former lovers, cheating spouses, and the respective others they’re cheating with, all in the name of an interesting affair.”