Page 97 of The Miracle of Love
Although he was glad she responded with outrage and was not shrinking back in tears, he remained determined to keep her out of this exchange.
Genevieve was purposely provoking her.
Every patron in the dining room was now staring at them.
Every member of the serving staff had frozen in place.
Lord Somerset approached. “Quinton? Is that you? What is going on here?”
“Take your wife home, my lord.” He had never hurt a woman and would not start now. But if Genevieve took it further and demanded Somerset take action against him, that was a more serious situation. He had no intention of hurting the man, but neither was he going to back down if he insulted Grace.
“Return to our table at once,” he ordered his wife. “You as well, Velda.”
Apparently, Somerset knew of him and what he did in service of the Crown. The man was known to be arrogant and a bit pompous, but he was obviously no fool.
Genevieve’s wasp of a cousin did not look pleased. “My lord, he insulted your wife.”
“Be quiet, Velda, or I shall assist him in hauling you out of here. My apologies, Quinton. My wife seems to have forgotten she is married to me. But you have found yourself a lovely young bride. Lockbridge will be sorry he ever let her go. We shall not disturb your tea any further.”
He then called over the maitre’d. “Mr. Quinton and his wife are my guests. I will settle their account.”
The man bowed obsequiously. “Of course, Lord Somerset.”
“Do not contradict me, Quinton. Consider it a wedding token from me and my wife. I hope this makes us square.” He grabbed his wife and her cousin by the elbow and steered them back to their party of friends.
Grace was trembling, obviously overset after the rude confrontation. “Let’s go, please. It was a mistake to come here.”
“There will always be one or two vindictive wasps trying to stir trouble. They will not stop if they think they can get to you.”
“Well, they can. Is it not obvious? Deklan, please. Everyone is looking at us.”
“If you run, Lord Somerset’s support of you will be for naught. Do not take it lightly, Grace. He may have done it to admonish his wife, but all anyone in the tea room will remember is his acceptance of you.” He glanced around. “They will quickly lose interest now that there is nothing to see. This isn’t London, love. Most of the tea room patrons are notton. As far as they are concerned, they are looking at Deklan Quinton and his wife because I said you were mine and so did Lord Somerset.”
“But Somerset had to know the truth.”
“Of course, he did. I owe him the favor for his support. We have to stay, Grace. Just listen to the whispers.”
“What do you mean?”
“You may be a viscount’s daughter, but you were not out in society and most of them don’t know anything about you beyond the gossip rags mentioning your viscount father had a daughter about to make her debut. Beyond this, we are not that interesting. They are more curious about Lord Somerset and his misbehaving wife.”
She leaned forward to better overhear the chatter at the surrounding tables.
She was in love with Quinton but he chose the quiet, pretty one instead. They say Lady Somerset never got over him. Poor Lord Somerset. How humiliating it must be for him.
Who is she? A Montague, did Lady Somerset say? Hmm, Montague…that name is familiar. She might be an Italian relation of my aunt. But the girl does not look Italian, does she? We were there just this summer on the Amalfi coast. The climate is so much more tolerable than in England. We really ought to go back, but it is quite vexing. So few of them speak English.
Isn’t she lovely? Did Lady Somerset say Montford? I wonder if she’s related to the viscount who got into a spot of trouble. And the viscount’s son, awfully nice looking fellow. He threw a good party. Haven’t seen much of him lately. I did enjoy his last party. Have you ever been?
Lady Somerset is green with envy. Has she forgotten she is married to an earl? Never seen that Montague girl before. Quinton obviously noticed her and wasn’t letting her get away. He’s sharp as a crack, that one.
No wonder Lady Genevieve lost him. That Montague girl is quite beautiful. I’m sure she is related to my aunt. We really ought to return to Amalfi in the spring.”
Poor Lord Somerset, his wife is obviously not over that Quentin fellow.
Grace covered her mouth to hide her amusement. “That Quentin fellow?”
“And you are the beautiful Montague lass. Italian ancestry?” He placed his hand over hers. “Grace, most people are in their own worlds and do not care what goes on around them unless it affects their comfort. There will always be wasps like Lady Somerset’s cousin who have nothing better to do with their days than spread malicious gossip. Most people don’t care beyond the initial titillation and will soon overlook it. Do not be surprised if we are suddenly flooded with invitations.”
