countess would find ways to overspend her allowance. Thus she had budgeted an amount to cover it. So far, Lady Wicksfield remained within it.
But her self-congratulation died under mortification as the memory of last night’s ball sneaked back into her mind. How could she have been so foolish?
The ballroom had been suffocatingly warm, even with all the windows open. She’d been fetching the lemonade Harriet would need after finishing a sprightly reel when the girl’s name had echoed from the far side of the refreshment room. Like a ninny, she’d turned to see who had spoken.
But she hadn’t stopped walking.
Heat again climbed her face. The moment of inattention had cost her dearly, for she’d collided with Lord Sedgewick in the doorway.
“Dear Lord, not you again,” he’d drawled, pulling out a handkerchief. Lemonade stained his coat, his waistcoat, his pantaloons. It even spattered his cravat. When he raised his glass to glare at her, a dribble of lemonade distorted his view.
“I c-can’t b-believe—” Her voice had died completely under the fury in his eyes.
“You are a menace to Society, Miss Patterson.”
“I didn’t m-mean… I mean, I d-didn’t see you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” His voice remained languid, exhibiting the sangfroid he showed the world. But he exuded an intensity that left her reeling. “I suppose it is too much to expect you to leave town, but would you please stay out of the way? That potted palm near the entrance would provide an admirable barrier to protect us from your antics.”
He’d retreated before she could wrap her tongue around a reply. He exchanged comments with numerous guests during his progress to the door, so she was unsurprised to hear the words clumsy servant buzzing through the room. Her own clothing had collected only two tiny drips, which increased her embarrassment.
Yet despite his fury, he had refrained from turning her into a laughingstock. She’d lain awake most of the night alternately cursing herself and pondering his actions. Why did she fall into scrapes only when he was nearby? And why had he not grabbed the opportunity to drive her from town – she knew he was scheming to end her friendship with Reggie.
Morning brought no answers, but she was determined that never again would he overset her to the point of stammering idiocy. Eight-and-twenty years of living should have built enough poise to face him down the next time they met. She had to do it for her own peace of mind. She was becoming obsessed with the man, watching for him everywhere, avoiding his vicinity lest she embarrass herself again. It was interfering with her duty to Harriet.
“The Lutterworths left town this morning,” said Lady Beatrice, interrupting Joanna’s memories.
“Hardly surprising,” commented Lady Marchgate. “With his daughter gone and his reputation in tatters, he had little choice. And after Brumford’s latest tirade, he probably feared for his safety.”
Joanna returned to her brooding, having already heard about Brumford’s attack on Lutterworth last night. He was so obsessed with Lutterworth’s daughter that he’d had to be forcibly ejected from Brook’s after uttering wild threats against Lutterworth and Lastmark. The incident revived some of her fears for Harriet.
Braxton was an impoverished baron who had been sniffing around Harriet for weeks. She had made the mistake of encouraging him before she discovered his circumstances, and he was furious over her change of heart. Had he developed the same obsession that plagued Brumford? Harriet was beautiful, sweet, kind, and had an air of fragility that appealed to many gentlemen. And Society still believed that Wicksfield was wealthy.
How could she learn his motives without starting rumors that would harm them all? She had not seen Reggie since the Cunningham ball. Immediately after Lord Sedgewick had spirited him away, he had been summoned home to Glendale Close.
Devil take the man , she
But her self-congratulation died under mortification as the memory of last night’s ball sneaked back into her mind. How could she have been so foolish?
The ballroom had been suffocatingly warm, even with all the windows open. She’d been fetching the lemonade Harriet would need after finishing a sprightly reel when the girl’s name had echoed from the far side of the refreshment room. Like a ninny, she’d turned to see who had spoken.
But she hadn’t stopped walking.
Heat again climbed her face. The moment of inattention had cost her dearly, for she’d collided with Lord Sedgewick in the doorway.
“Dear Lord, not you again,” he’d drawled, pulling out a handkerchief. Lemonade stained his coat, his waistcoat, his pantaloons. It even spattered his cravat. When he raised his glass to glare at her, a dribble of lemonade distorted his view.
“I c-can’t b-believe—” Her voice had died completely under the fury in his eyes.
“You are a menace to Society, Miss Patterson.”
“I didn’t m-mean… I mean, I d-didn’t see you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” His voice remained languid, exhibiting the sangfroid he showed the world. But he exuded an intensity that left her reeling. “I suppose it is too much to expect you to leave town, but would you please stay out of the way? That potted palm near the entrance would provide an admirable barrier to protect us from your antics.”
He’d retreated before she could wrap her tongue around a reply. He exchanged comments with numerous guests during his progress to the door, so she was unsurprised to hear the words clumsy servant buzzing through the room. Her own clothing had collected only two tiny drips, which increased her embarrassment.
Yet despite his fury, he had refrained from turning her into a laughingstock. She’d lain awake most of the night alternately cursing herself and pondering his actions. Why did she fall into scrapes only when he was nearby? And why had he not grabbed the opportunity to drive her from town – she knew he was scheming to end her friendship with Reggie.
Morning brought no answers, but she was determined that never again would he overset her to the point of stammering idiocy. Eight-and-twenty years of living should have built enough poise to face him down the next time they met. She had to do it for her own peace of mind. She was becoming obsessed with the man, watching for him everywhere, avoiding his vicinity lest she embarrass herself again. It was interfering with her duty to Harriet.
“The Lutterworths left town this morning,” said Lady Beatrice, interrupting Joanna’s memories.
“Hardly surprising,” commented Lady Marchgate. “With his daughter gone and his reputation in tatters, he had little choice. And after Brumford’s latest tirade, he probably feared for his safety.”
Joanna returned to her brooding, having already heard about Brumford’s attack on Lutterworth last night. He was so obsessed with Lutterworth’s daughter that he’d had to be forcibly ejected from Brook’s after uttering wild threats against Lutterworth and Lastmark. The incident revived some of her fears for Harriet.
Braxton was an impoverished baron who had been sniffing around Harriet for weeks. She had made the mistake of encouraging him before she discovered his circumstances, and he was furious over her change of heart. Had he developed the same obsession that plagued Brumford? Harriet was beautiful, sweet, kind, and had an air of fragility that appealed to many gentlemen. And Society still believed that Wicksfield was wealthy.
How could she learn his motives without starting rumors that would harm them all? She had not seen Reggie since the Cunningham ball. Immediately after Lord Sedgewick had spirited him away, he had been summoned home to Glendale Close.
Devil take the man , she
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