Page 26 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Chapter Eight
“You have a poisonous tongue,” Eliza said to Miss Wentworth, whose color was high on her cheeks.
As always, the ballroom was disagreeably packed.
Adrian stood at the edge of the room as the two young ladies giggled and advanced into the crush without him. He glowered at any young lady who attempted to approach him.
This was about as far from his idea of ‘fun’ as anything could be.
Watching his cousin and newfound responsibility flirting with other gentlemen. The lemonade was tart, and there was very little else of worth to drink. There would be a dinner later, but he doubted it would be particularly good fare. At least it wasn’t Almack’s, known for its stale bread and watery lemonade. And at least there, there would be betting in the other rooms, even if the stakes were not particularly high.
He was about to head over there when he glanced back at where Lady Isobel was standing. Her back looked rigid from this view, and she appeared to be standing beside Miss Wentworth.
Adrian frowned. The lady had never struck him as being especially accommodating, and he had cultivated a strong dislike of her.
Not to mention Lady Isobel’s briefly stricken expression when she had mentioned that all men had their vices—it was obvious she was not talking about something as mundane as racing or gambling.
No. This went deeper. And he couldn’t shake that instinctive desire to protect her, to stand between her and whatever she faced.
Ludicrous. Ridiculous. Unnecessary. She had proven time and time again that she did not want his defense. Still, he found himself striding over to her.
He came to a stop behind Lady Isobel.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, hearing the threat in his own voice and having no desire to remove it.
“Oh. Your Grace,” Miss Wentworth fluttered her eyelashes at him. The attempt left him cold. “We were just conversing about her family in Scotland.”
“Conversing?” Eliza’s jaw was clenched. “She was insulting Lady Isobel’s heritage.”
“I merely said that I had never heard of your family’s seat, is all.” Miss Wentworth gave what she no doubt thought was a placating smile. “It is nothing to get too worked up over, I assure you. I was not trying to assert anything?—”
Lady Isobel spoke, her voice low and her accent accentuated. “I’m afraid I daenae believe a word that ye say.”
“Neither do I,” Eliza said with a toss of her fair head. “She was trying to disparage Lady Isobel.”
Miss Wentworth chuckled softly. “Heavens, such vitriol. One would think you had been brought up in a barn, not polite company.”
Adrian raised a brow. “Be careful with your words, Miss Wentworth. Lady Eliza is my cousin.”
“Oh—” Miss Wentworth blinked, but Adrian had no desire to smile, even in grim victory. “Well,” she said faintly. “Yes, of course. And I was not attempting to suggest anything negative, of course. But Lady Eliza would do well to keep her tongue in check.”
“That is not a matter I am disputing,” Adrian said, sending his cousin a quelling glance. “But it sounds as though you suffer from the same affliction, Miss Wentworth. You would do wellto keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. They are not always welcome, especially in polite company.”
An ugly flush covered her face. Adrian knew that, for the most part, she was considered extremely pretty, but he had never cared for her simpering style of beauty.
Now, having had her bad behavior thrown in her face, all her loveliness had fled.
Lady Isobel looked equally flushed, but her eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and triumph, and the expression did nothing to hinder her attractiveness.
A pity, he thought viciously.
“I find it hard to believe that you, Your Grace, are defending a nobody from who knows where, who might not even be from a reputable family.”
“Let me put that to bed.” His temper flared, and he forced it back down with iron control. “Lady Isobel’s family is perfectly respectable, and she is a guest of my mother’s, the Duchess of Somerset. There is nothing of reproach about her, save that just like my dear cousin, her tongue can sometimes run away with her.”
He gave her an apprising look that she returned with her chin tilted. Flushed and beautiful. He despised the sight of it, even ashis body stirred at memories of that soft mouth on hers, and her soft body pressed against his.
“Ye flatter me,” she said dryly.
