Wed in Disgrace (Convenient Arrangements #3) - Rose Pearson Page 0,29

at any moment.

“Lord Coventry.”

He bowed quickly, smothering his surprise as Lord Chesterton drew near to him, a small smirk on his face as he watched Timothy.

“Chesterton,” he grated, already despising the gentleman’s company and wishing that the fellow had not chosen to come and greet him. “Good evening.” He inclined his head and made to turn away, but Lord Chesterton took a small sidestep, clearly not yet ready for their conversation to end.

“You have been invited to an occasion, I see,” Lord Chesterton continued, his eyes fixed to Timothy’s. “How...unusual.”

Timothy fought back the urge to respond with cruel words and instead merely shrugged. “I have been invited to a few social occasions,” he replied honestly. Perhaps it was not as many as the year before, but he would pretend to Lord Chesterton that he was not forced to remain at home most evenings.

“It seems you have some within society who still wish to befriend you, although I cannot understand why,” Lord Chesterton said dismissively. “It appears they do not know the truth of your character.”

Anger began to bubble up in Timothy’s chest, but he did not say a single word. He had never once laid a hand on Lord Chesterton, and yet, for whatever reason, Lord Chesterton had been the one to tell all of society that he had been the one to blame.

“You have seen that my sister is now married,” Lord Chesterton stated with a smirk. “The Marquess of Parrington is an excellent gentleman, as I am certain you know.”

“In truth, I do not know anything of his character,” Timothy replied honestly. “But I am contented if she is happy and settled.” Given his meeting with her earlier that day, Timothy now began to question just what it had been that had once drawn him towards Lady Parrington. She was not what he remembered, for her cruel, callous, and arrogant ways had stung his heart and his mind, making him wonder if he had ever really known her at all.

Lord Chesterton snorted. “I can assure you that she is certainly a good deal more improved in her status than she would have been if she had been married to you, Coventry.”

“No doubt,” Timothy replied evenly, still battling the anger underneath his calm exterior. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Chesterton.” He lifted one eyebrow and pinned his gaze onto Lord Chesterton’s dark expression. “I do not think there is a need for us to converse further.”

This appeared to anger Lord Chesterton greatly but Timothy did not care. Making his way past the gentleman, he sighed heavily as he walked through the rest of the guests, wishing that the music for the first dance would begin soon. Perhaps then he would be able to hide himself away in a corner of the ballroom, watching the other young ladies and gentlemen step out together as they began to dance. His heart was still pounding furiously, his anger still roaring to be released, but he did nothing other than clench his fists and wait desperately for the feeling to pass. He could not lose his temper now, not in the middle of a ball and certainly not with Lord Chesterton.

Perhaps that was what he intended to do, he thought to himself as a cold hand gripped his heart. Perhaps he wanted you to lose your temper so that he could, yet again, remind society of your disgrace.

“Oh!”

Wincing, Timothy stepped back, spinning around to look at whoever it was that had shoved him, hard. He could see no one in particular, for with all the guests around him, he had no idea which one might have done so. Frustrated, he turned back again, only to realize that he had stumbled directly into a young lady who was looking up at him with a dark frown.

“My apologies.” There was no need for him to make any excuse, to tell her that someone had knocked into him hard, which, in turn, had made him fall into her. Rather, it was best merely to apologize.

“Lord Coventry,” she said, making him realize that they were, it seemed, already acquainted. “If you are looking for Miss Mullins, I fear she has not yet arrived this evening.”

He cleared his throat, trying to find something to say.

“Miss Jamieson,” the lady continued, reminding him of her name with what appeared to be the smallest hint of exasperation. “You spoke at length with my friend earlier last week, when we took a walk through the park.”

“Yes, yes,” he stammered, bowing