Page 50 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
Richard in the mirror solemnly shook his head. No. She was not, and she did not. She blamed him for the disappearance of Edmund’s brat. She’d refused to believe the little monster was dead. She’d betrayed him, and she’d betrayed the son they had made together.
The reflection winced at the thought of Chalky. Another traitor. Gone. Run off to be Moses White’s lapdog when he might have been Viscount Snowden. After Snowden, of course.
This was all Moses White’s fault.
He met his reflection’s steady gaze and nodded. Snowden had other tools, and sources of information that the pestilential by-blow and his harlot countess knew nothing about.
Chapter Nineteen
When Margaret wentdown to breakfast the following morning, Pauline was already in the breakfast room. She had served herself a cup of hot chocolate, and was sitting on the window seat, reading a newspaper.The Teatime Tattler, by the look.
Margaret was not fond of the scurrilous rag but had had a subscription for Aunt Aurelia. She’d kept it when she found Pauline was a fan, though she assured Margaret that she knew better than to believe more than one word of three in the gossip and scandal they printed.
As Margaret entered, Pauline gasped, pushed the paper away from her, then pulled it closer to reread whatever had elicited such a reaction.
Margaret went to the sideboard, laden with breakfast selections, to pour her own cup of chocolate and to butter a raisin-laden bun to go with it.
“Something interesting in theTattler, Pauline?” she asked, as she took a seat at the table.
Pauline jumped and flushed. “Margaret. I did not hear you come in.”
“You were absorbed in your reading.” Which must be something scandalous indeed to cause Pauline to blush.
Pauline looked at the paper on the table, then at Margaret, then back at the table. “Oh, dear. I suppose I need to tell you.”
Margaret raised her eyebrows. That sounded ominous.
“TheTattlermust have had a reporter at the ball,” Pauline explained.
Margaret understood her immediately. “There is a report on our confrontation with Martin?”
“Not exactly. Well, yes, I suppose. But it is more what they have implied… wait. You should read it for yourself.”
Pauline spread the paper out on the table next to Margaret’s place and went to fill her plate from the buffet while Margaret read.
“They have reported what Snowy said to Martin,” Margaret said. “Nothing to complain of there.” She read on. “Oh dear, they have speculated about my earlier acquaintance with the horrid man.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate.
“But, Pauline, they are siding with Snowy. They are calling Martin a known drunkard, an unlucky gambler, and a man who does not pay his debts. That is not so bad.” She had been afraid that Martin’s accusations about her own virtue might be believed.
“Keep reading,” Pauline advised. She had taken the seat opposite Margaret and was sipping her own drink.
Margaret read on to the end of the article, then met Pauline’s eyes to repeat Pauline’s own words. “Oh, dear.”
“What do you think Lord Snowden will say?” asked Pauline. “Therealone, I mean?”
Margaret looked at the page again.
“Lord H.-F. lost all sympathy from those assembled when he insulted the much-admired Lady C. Mr. W., who might indeed be Lord S., responded by addressing to the lady a stunning and romantic proposal, and sweeping her into the waltz that Lord H.-F. had interrupted.
“So, Lady C. is at last betrothed, and we are to wish her and her gentleman happy. Did they use the waltz or the supper dance to set the date? Will Lady C. insist on waiting until she knows whether her betrothed will be confirmed in his viscountcy? This correspondent will be sure to report all, as soon as possible.”
Pauline frowned. “It wasn’t exactly a proposal,” she said. “Was it?”
Margaret shook her head. “And I do not intend to allowThe Teatime Tattlerto force him into anything he does not want to do.”
“Hedoeslike you,” Pauline suggested. “Would you marry him, Margaret? If he asked you?”
Margaret hesitated, taking a moment to suppress the surge of longing. What a fool she was. She had guarded her heart for nearly six years, ever since she imagined herself in love with a man who turned out to be a liar and a cheat. Now she had given it away again, without the least encouragement.
