Page 59 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“That’s an excellent idea,” Gillian said. “Charles, will you do the honors?”
Leverton headed to a chinoiserie sideboard that held a number of decanters and a collection of delicate crystal goblets. He splashed brandy into two of the glasses and stalked back to the chaise, silently giving one to his wife and the other to Lia.
Lia forced herself to meet his gaze, which still burned with anger and frustration. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry I embarrassed your family. I wish there was some way I could go back and redo this entire miserable night.”
“Yes, it’s unfortunate that we cannot,” he said in a clipped tone.
“For God’s sake, stop acting like such a discourteous grump,” Gillian said, scowling at her husband. “You’d think you were the one who’d been slapped instead of me.”
He drew in a breath. “I wish it had been me, my love. That harpy actually left a mark on your cheek.”
Gillian removed the cloth and carefully worked her jaw. “Lady John has quite a good arm. Now, apologize to Lia for being such a brute.”
Lia jumped as if someone had jabbed her with a pin. “Please don’t. Lord knows you have nothing to apologize for.”
Leverton unbent a bit more, giving her a rueful smile. “My wife is quite right, Lia. None of this is your fault. Events unfolded in a way no sane person could have predicted.”
“It was rather exciting, you must admit,” Gillian said with surprising good cheer. “And I honestly don’t think it was all that bad. Yes, there will be gossip, but lots of people in the Ton behave badly on a regular basis. It was just one little slap.”
Lia was rather stunned by her cousin’s assessment. Then again, Gillian had punched an earl at her debut, all but causing a riot in the ballroom. Perhaps by that standard, tonight’s events seemed a pale imitation.
“You’re taking this rather well,” Leverton said, eyeing his wife with a puzzled look.
“I suppose you expected me to pull a knife from under my gown and stab her,” Gillian said with some asperity.
Her husband’s raised eyebrows supplied the answer.
“Really, Charles, I would never stab Jack’s mother, no matter how much she might deserve it. He would be very displeased if I did.”
Lia had to choke back a giggle. The entire evening had turned into a domestic farce that would probably have been hilarious if it involved someone other than her and Jack.
“I agree it could have been much worse,” Dominic said, smiling at Gillian. “And that’s mostly due to you, my dear. Your reaction was eminently sane and generous.”
“And unexpected,” Leverton said with a glimmer of humor. “I was convinced I’d be breaking my wife out of Bridewell before the evening was over.”
“I am capable of self-discipline when the occasion calls for it,” his wife said dryly. “Even if sometimes a little late.”
The assembled guests had been stunned into silence by Lady John’s resounding slap. They’d stood frozen in horror, waiting for the Duchess of Leverton, well known for her volatile temper, to respond to the insult. Jack’s mother had refused to back down one inch, meeting Gillian’s dagger-filled glare with one equally fierce.
Jack and Leverton had immediately started to move to intervene between the combatants, but Gillian had stopped them dead in their tracks by giving Lady John a rueful smile as she extended her hand.
“That was a nice, flush hit, my lady,” she’d said. “I commend you. Now, why don’t we shake on it and call it an evening, man to man.”
Lady John had stared at Gillian with utter consternation, but she’d clearly been so stunned by the gesture that she’d weakly extended a hand. Gillian gave it a brisk shake.
As if a spell had been broken, the ballroom had whirled back to life. Everyone started talking at once and the orchestra, by a miracle of timing, struck up a waltz. After Jack exchanged a glance with his sister, they’d taken their mother by the arm and led her swiftly away. Dominic and Aunt Chloe had done the same for Lia, removing her through a side door and taking her upstairs.
Lia gave her cousin’s hand a squeeze. “You were absolutely splendid, Gillian. I don’t know how you managed it.”
“I’m quite good in a crisis.” Gillian’s eyes twinkled as she glanced at her husband. “As Charles can tell you.”
Leverton snorted, but his smile was warm and approving. A man of great presence and authority, he obviously adored his exceedingly unconventional wife. While Lia was thrilled for Gillian, she couldn’t repress a twinge of envy. To be so completely accepted by the man you loved, warts and all, seemed like the stuff of dreams.
“Speaking of managing a crisis,” Gillian said, putting down her glass, “I suppose we’d best get back down there and assess the extent of the damage.”
“There’s no need to rush,” Leverton said. “My mother and your grandmother are keeping an eye on the situation. Between the two of them, I’m sure they have everything under control.”
Lia had met the dowager duchess and Lady Marbury, Gillian’s grandmother, before the party started. They were both impressively dignified women. But while the dowager had looked down her nose at Lia, Lady Marbury had been friendly and apparently willing to accept her into the family.
