Page 104 of Madcap with a Marquess
“Thank you, Your Grace. I cannot express my gratitude enough that you have thrown your support behind me.”
The dowager winged a thin dark brow, her lips twitching on her perfectly proportioned face. Age had done nothing to detract from the mature woman’s beauty. The threads of silver running through her dark coiffure only added to the woman’s presence: striking, regal, revered.
“Yes, that much is obvious,” the dowager said. “Considering that was, at minimum, the fifteenth time you’ve thanked me.” Her grey eyes were keen, sharp. Franny had known an instant after meeting this woman that she saw more than most. “And also a lie.”
Franny blinked, her mouth slackening. “I-I… I am thankful, Your Grace,” she rushed out.
The woman’s single brow lifted a hair higher, and Franny’s mouth snapped shut. Heavens, the woman could command armies with nothing more than her eyebrows.
They greeted the next pair of guests, and as soon as they were beyond hearing distance, the dowager met Franny’s gaze again. “You think I am fool enough to believe you want any of this?” Her stare traversed the magnificent ballroom, glittering gold chandeliers, Greek-inspired marble columns, intricately carved, gilt covered molding, and then came to land back on Franny’s bold choice of gown. “You do not care what these people think of you.”
As though the fates wanted to prove the woman’s point, another couple in the assembly line stepped up to Franny and the dowager. And this guest did nothing to hide her disgust at being forced into Franny’s presence. She dipped a curtsy to the dowager.
“Your Grace, it is an honor to be here this evening. It is of no surprise that the festivities are truly unparalleled.” She didn’t curtsy to Franny, she didn’t turn to Franny, she didn’t acknowledge Franny.
A clear cut.
And Franny laughed.
It bubbled out of her, unrestrained and unrefined. The dowager caught Franny’s gaze from the corner of her eye, the glimmer there as smug as the curve of her lips.As I said. She didn’t say the words, but she didn’t need to.
The odious lady turned up her nose at Franny, giving her head a little shake, like something foul had assaulted her person. What a joy she must be if a laugh was considered an affront.
“Are you well, Lady Harrington?” The dowager’s delicate brows pinched, concern emanating from her as she rested a gloved hand over her heart.
Lady Harrington’s expression quickly smoothed into a practiced smile. “Of course, Your Grace.”
The dowager matched the woman’s smile. “Oh, what a relief. I had feared you’d taken ill. But I see that it’s merely your natural countenance.”
The woman gasped, but the dowager was already turning and greeting the next guests. Franny’s hand flew to her mouth, and she tried desperately to hold back her mirth. The dowager wasphenomenal.The guest glared at Franny and marched off. Good riddance.
Franny blew out a small breath and regained her composure.Pull yourself together, Franny.She plastered a smile back on her face and turned to the final guests in the assembly line. The dowager and a slender mature woman with rose gold hair were holding each other’s hands, genuine smiles splitting their faces. The woman’s stunning blue eyes landed on Franny, and her smile softened. Something about the woman’s presence instantly put Franny at ease. There was no doubt this woman was friend not foe.
“Lord and Lady Bentley,” the dowager said. “May I introduce Lady Rutledge, my most cherished guest this evening.”
Lady Bentley dropped into a curtsy, her pale blue skirts fluttering around her. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rutledge. And may I extend my felicitations on your recent nuptials.”
A gentleman, equal in handsomeness to the woman’s beauty, stepped to her side. He bowed, his greying amber curls flopping over his forehead, and he flashed her a smile far more boyish than one would think possible at his advanced years. “An absolute pleasure, my lady.”
“And I would be remiss if I didn’t introduce this dashing young gentleman,” the dowager Duchess said. “Lord Mallen. Lord Mallen, this is the newly made Lady Rutledge.”
An identical boyish grin flashed at Franny, and her mind went blank. She stared dumbly at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was the exact replica of Lady Bentley, except with the amber coloring of Lord Bentley. The man took her hand and bowed low over it. “A pleasure, my lady. And felicitations. Your husband is a most fortunate gentleman.”
“Oh,” was all Franny could manage.
She was greeted with three breathtaking smiles, and then Lord and Lady Bentley and their son glided off.
A hand patted her arm, and she blinked out of her stupor. The dowager’s lips twitched, sympathy and amusement glittering in her expression. “That family’s beauty could be used as a weapon. You are not the first to be struck mute.”
A breath burst from Franny. “Oh, thank goodness. So, it is not just me then? I swore I lost all ability to form coherent thoughts.”
The dowager chuckled softly. “They tend to have that effect on people. Kinder, more genuine-hearted people, you will never meet.”
A dark movement at the entry of the ballroom drew Franny’s attention, and a trio of gentlemen dressed in black from the tips of their shoes all the way to their cravats stepped into the ballroom. And this time, not only was she unable to form words, she was unable to breathe.
Broad shoulders rolled back, his imperious and commanding presence on full display, her husband looked every inch the Prime Minister his viper of a mother had trained him to be. Except this man was most definitely not one who followed the rules. This man broke them. His two sentries flanked him, slightly taller, both darker, and slightly uncivilized with the Duke’s scar and the Marquess’s unfashionably long shaggy hair.
The dowager hummed softly at Franny’s side. “Andthatis the reason you are truly here, my lady. You may not care about other’s opinions of you. But it took but a minute of being in your and your husband’s presence for me to discern you would go to any lengths for that man.”
