Page 8 of With Love in Sight
He grinned. “You have surprised me already, Miss Duncan.”
“Imogen!”
Lady Tarryton’s voice tore through the moment. Imogen felt her joy pop like a bubble at the surface of a pond, until not even the ripples of happiness were left behind. She kept her eyes at the level of her mother’s chin. She could not bear to see the fury that must be stamped across the woman’s face.
“Yes, Mama?”
“You are keeping his lordship from joining his friends. Please don’t embarrass us.”
Lady Tarryton addressed Lord Willbridge then, and Imogen could see her entire demeanor change. “Please do forgive my daughter, my lord. I hope this does not prevent you from coming back to visit with us. I am certain Mariah would love to receive you again.”
Her mother’s voice fairly oozed flattery.
Imogen felt sick to her stomach. Of course her mother would want Lord Willbridge for her youngest. Why wouldn’t she? The man was a marquess, and rich, and handsome. But more importantly, he was quite the kindest man Imogen had ever known.
“Thank you, my lady,” he replied after a pause. Was that aggravation in his voice? His face was smooth, a polite smile on his lips. But there was some angry spark simmering in his eyes. He turned to her then, and his anger disappeared. Imogen melted under his regard.
“Miss Duncan, it was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.”
With a bow he stalked from the room.
• • •
Caleb settled back into the plush velvet seat of his friend’s carriage and sighed. The sight of Imogen getting bullied by her mother had left a bad taste in his mouth. What was wrong with the woman? Couldn’t she see what a gem her eldest was?
Tristan settled beside him. “That was her, wasn’t it, Willbridge?” he asked. “The girl you mentioned earlier.”
Malcolm Arborn, Viscount Morley entered the carriage then. He knocked on the trapdoor with his ebony walking stick and the carriage lurched forward, away from the Incomparable Miss Mariah’s home. Away from Imogen.
“What are you blathering on about, Tristan?” Morley drawled as he adjusted his cuff.
“Willbridge here has taken a fancy to Miss Duncan,” Tristan replied with a wide smile.
Morley shrugged. “Who hasn’t? She’s a beauty. Not many are immune to her.”
“Not Miss Mariah Duncan, you dolt. Her sister, Miss…” He frowned. “What the devil is the chit’s name?”
“Damned if I can remember.”
Caleb looked from one to the other in exasperation. “Truly?” he exploded.
Both men looked at him in shock.
“It is Imogen. Miss Imogen Duncan. She gave her name to you right there in the hall. She saved your ass, Morley, from the embarrassment of not remembering it in the first place. It was a damned sight kinder than I would have done.”
Morley looked on him as if he’d grown two heads. Tristan, however, smiled widely. “You truly do fancy her.”
Caleb would not even bother acknowledging his friend’s idiocy. He leveled a hard stare at each of them. “Just because she has not the outlandish beauty or sparkle of her sister does not make her a nonentity.”
“What the devil has gotten into you, Willbridge?” Morley asked. “Why the sudden sermon? I have never once seen you ask a wallflower to dance. You seemed quite content to concentrate on the flashy, generous widows who clamber after you.”
Caleb clenched his jaw and turned his attention to the window. Every word Morley spoke was true. He had never concerned himself with women like Imogen before. He had been more than happy to pretend they did not exist. They had never done anything for him, had never helped distract him from the unending guilt that had ridden him for the past decade. He had needed the constant stimulation of knowledgeable women to erase the painful recollection of his past sins.
So why did he suddenly feel mortally offended over the way one unpopular maiden sister was treated?
He knew the answer, of course. If she had not stumbled upon him last night and he had not been fairly smacked in the face with her distress, if he had not taken the time to soothe her, if she had not let him glimpse what lay beyond the façade, he would even now be sitting as these two, happily oblivious to such women.
When he contemplated the way he had tripped through life before, overlooking the Imogens of the world, he felt very small. Even worse, he wondered how many times he had passed by Imogen herself, his eyes sliding over her as if she were a part of the scenery.
