Page 60 of One Night with a Prince
“Perhaps it’s just as he claimed—he ran out of rooms.”
“In this mansion? Not bloody likely.” Byrne slanted her a dark look. “Did he say anything to you?”
She related their conversation in full.
Byrne’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Either he’s playing games with us, or he’s taken a fancy to you. Whichever it is, I don’t like it. It’ll make getting those letters all the more difficult.”
Her heart sank. She should have known Byrne wouldn’t be jealous; he was merely concerned aboutGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmltheir purpose here.
Not that she wanted him to be jealous. She was already far too attracted to him as it was. If she thought for one minute that he might actually care for her…
That was dangerous thinking indeed.
They reached the bottom of the stairs where others waited to go in to dinner. Guests here and there hailed them, some of whom she recognized. The Talbots were there, along with Lady Jenner and a man who was probably her husband. Her lover, Lieutenant Markham, also stood close by, exchanging pleasantries with a raven-haired woman whom Christabel didn’t recognize. Laughing, the woman turned so that her profile was to them, and Byrne suddenly tensed. “Anna?” he said, his tone disbelieving.
The raven-haired beauty glanced over, then paled from the roots of her hair to the bodice of her fashionable emerald gown. She faced them slowly. “Gavin?”
She looked stricken. Byrne looked the same.
Christabel’s heart sank. Was this another of Byrne’s former mistresses? But no, she’d never heard him speak of any of them with that peculiar note of pain in his voice. And none of them called him Gavin. Or so he’d said.
“What are you doing here?” Byrne asked hoarsely, his fingers digging into Christabel’s waist like iron talons.
“Lord Stokely invited me and Walter, of course.” The woman tugged on the arm of a man who stood near her. “Come, dear, I’d like you to meet someone.”
Christabel found it hard to breathe past the tightness in her chest. Judging from Byrne’s reaction, this was no mere mistress, whoever she was. But why could this “Anna” make him tense and angry when no other woman—including Christabel—touched his emotions?
The elderly man who turned around looked as if he’d rather be sleeping by a fire than waiting in a crowd to go in to dinner. “Eh? What is it?”
“Walter, may I present an old friend of…my family’s, Mr. Gavin Byrne. Mr. Byrne, this is my husband, Lord Kingsley.”
A muscle ticked in Byrne’s jaw as he nodded at the gentleman. “Lord Kingsley. You’re certainly a long way from home. Dublin, right?”
“Yes, Dublin.” Lord Kingsley lifted his lorgnette to eye Byrne closely. “Have we met before?”
“No.” Byrne shot Lady Kingsley a glance, then added in a voice thick with irony, “But I’ve heard of you.”
Coloring, the woman said hastily, “Mr. Byrne owns a gentlemen’s club in London, my dear. The Blue Swan. I’m sure he makes it his business to know everything about the most important men in England and Ireland.”
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“Quite.” Lord Kingsley leveled a condescending gaze on Byrne. “Rather surprising that Stokely invited your sort, but I suppose that’s to be expected. This being a gaming party and all.”
“Yes.” Byrne had apparently regained his composure. “Stokely likes to surprise people.” He glanced beyond the Kingsleys. “And speak of the devil, here’s our host now.”
Lord Stokely approached, his face wreathed in smiles as he slid between the couples. “Ah, Byrne, I see you’ve already met the Viscount Kingsley and his wife.”
“Yes,” Lady Kingsley said, casting Christabel a searching glance, “but we have not yet been introduced to Mr. Byrne’s friend.”
Lord Stokely performed the introductions as Christabel tried not to notice Byrne’s stiff reactions. Or Lady Kingsley’s stunning beauty. And elegant manners. And polished replies. The viscountess was everything that Christabel was not and could never be.
Indeed, it was all she could do not to laugh madly when Lord Kingsley turned into a fawning old fool the instant he heard Christabel was a marchioness. As he babbled his honor at meeting her and gushed compliments over her gown, Christabel fought to smile. His wife looked on with a pained expression, and Byrne stood there woodenly.
Their host seemed to find the whole thing vastly amusing. He clapped his hand on Lord Kingsley’s shoulder. “Capital fellow, isn’t he? We ran into each other last year at a card party in York. Lady Kingsley is an avid whist player, so I couldn’t resist inviting her and Kingsley to my affair. We can use some new blood among our players, eh, Byrne?”
“That depends on how much of that new blood you’re hoping to spill,” Byrne quipped.
“Byrne, you wound me!” Lord Stokely exclaimed in mock reproach. “Lady Kingsley can hold her own at the tables, I assure you. And she’ll prove a fine addition to our group.” A calculating smile touched his lips. “She’s full of fascinating tales about her coming out in London.”
