drew the glove from his hand, shockingly bruised as it was, and once again took Ginny’s hand in his.
He heard the gasp of alarm she dutifully swallowed before she addressed the man seated at her side. “I am persuaded, Mr. Graham, you won’t begrudge me a moment with Lord Crenshaw.” She honeyed her words with a smile.
The smile was lost on Mr. Graham, however, whose whole attention was given over to the red and purple bruises covering the knuckles of Anthony’s hand.
“Mr. Graham,” Anthony said with a fractional bow of his head. “It would seem there’s another just like this one. I would be most pleased for you to make its acquaintance if you are so inclined,” he added in a low purr.
Mr. Graham withdrew his hold on Ginny’s arm and clasped his hands tightly together in his lap. “Fists are not the weapon of a gentleman,” he said gruffly. “I prefer the use of pistols myself.”
“For that, I fear, you shall have to get in line,” Anthony drawled; then, drawing Ginny to her feet, he led her swiftly to a side table and poured himself a drink.
“Did I not overhear you tell Grandaunt only this evening that you no longer have a taste for alcohol?” Ginny asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Did I?” Anthony said in a voice that sounded curt even to his own ears. “It looks as if I spoke too soon. At any rate, we must depart,” he said, pulling her paisley shawl up around her shoulders. “I’ll fetch Grandmama, but you must head straight for the stairs.”
“What? Because of that poor minister?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “No! That is to say, I made a mistake in bringing you here tonight.” He had trusted his mother to make Ginny a part of the family. However, in light of present company, it was clear she had never intended to do any such thing. If the promised voucher for Ginny to Almack’s appeared, he would eat his hat. Worse, the longer they stayed, the greater the chance that his dear mama would let slip the details with regard to his trio of odious tasks, the ones he meant to keep from Ginny at all costs.
He saw her face crumple a bit and congratulated himself on his decision to quit the house. Her tears were more endurable than Avery’s, but he had no wish to start them flowing anytime in the near future.
“No tears tonight. I’m afraid I left my handkerchief at home, and Lucinda’s already looks the worse for wear.”
Ginny opened her mouth to respond, to say he knew not what, for she was spared the effort of formulating a reply when the dinner bell rang. Mr. Graham shot instantly to his feet, whereupon, to Anthony’s dismay, Ginny took the preacher by the arm and went with him into dinner.
tinny regretted her decision the moment she took her assigned seat between Mr. Graham and Mr. Simmons, who was of an age with Anthony but seemed much younger with his flighty ways and shallow observations. Sadly, her conversation would be limited to him and the dour minister, since speaking across table was highly improper at a formal dinner, even if one were betrothed, albeit somewhat secretly, to the man seated directly opposite. Meanwhile, she would be forced to endure watching as Anthony limited his conversation to the ladies at either side. Lucinda and Lady Derby were two of a pair; both bore the title of countess, a head of lush blond locks, and an expression of coy defiance.
The fact that Anthony had once been attached in one way or another to each of them, however falsely, did nothing to quicken Ginny’s appetite or her confidence in her own upcoming nuptials. Neither did the initial hurt that had assailed her when Anthony was so eager to hasten her away from this paltry clutch of “high Society.” Even so, that had faded enough to make way for curiosity. Though she was tempted to believe he feared she would say or do something unsuitable, she knew him well enough by now to suspect that something else was afoot. She took a sip of the soup course, a light broth seasoned with
He heard the gasp of alarm she dutifully swallowed before she addressed the man seated at her side. “I am persuaded, Mr. Graham, you won’t begrudge me a moment with Lord Crenshaw.” She honeyed her words with a smile.
The smile was lost on Mr. Graham, however, whose whole attention was given over to the red and purple bruises covering the knuckles of Anthony’s hand.
“Mr. Graham,” Anthony said with a fractional bow of his head. “It would seem there’s another just like this one. I would be most pleased for you to make its acquaintance if you are so inclined,” he added in a low purr.
Mr. Graham withdrew his hold on Ginny’s arm and clasped his hands tightly together in his lap. “Fists are not the weapon of a gentleman,” he said gruffly. “I prefer the use of pistols myself.”
“For that, I fear, you shall have to get in line,” Anthony drawled; then, drawing Ginny to her feet, he led her swiftly to a side table and poured himself a drink.
“Did I not overhear you tell Grandaunt only this evening that you no longer have a taste for alcohol?” Ginny asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Did I?” Anthony said in a voice that sounded curt even to his own ears. “It looks as if I spoke too soon. At any rate, we must depart,” he said, pulling her paisley shawl up around her shoulders. “I’ll fetch Grandmama, but you must head straight for the stairs.”
“What? Because of that poor minister?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “No! That is to say, I made a mistake in bringing you here tonight.” He had trusted his mother to make Ginny a part of the family. However, in light of present company, it was clear she had never intended to do any such thing. If the promised voucher for Ginny to Almack’s appeared, he would eat his hat. Worse, the longer they stayed, the greater the chance that his dear mama would let slip the details with regard to his trio of odious tasks, the ones he meant to keep from Ginny at all costs.
He saw her face crumple a bit and congratulated himself on his decision to quit the house. Her tears were more endurable than Avery’s, but he had no wish to start them flowing anytime in the near future.
“No tears tonight. I’m afraid I left my handkerchief at home, and Lucinda’s already looks the worse for wear.”
Ginny opened her mouth to respond, to say he knew not what, for she was spared the effort of formulating a reply when the dinner bell rang. Mr. Graham shot instantly to his feet, whereupon, to Anthony’s dismay, Ginny took the preacher by the arm and went with him into dinner.
tinny regretted her decision the moment she took her assigned seat between Mr. Graham and Mr. Simmons, who was of an age with Anthony but seemed much younger with his flighty ways and shallow observations. Sadly, her conversation would be limited to him and the dour minister, since speaking across table was highly improper at a formal dinner, even if one were betrothed, albeit somewhat secretly, to the man seated directly opposite. Meanwhile, she would be forced to endure watching as Anthony limited his conversation to the ladies at either side. Lucinda and Lady Derby were two of a pair; both bore the title of countess, a head of lush blond locks, and an expression of coy defiance.
The fact that Anthony had once been attached in one way or another to each of them, however falsely, did nothing to quicken Ginny’s appetite or her confidence in her own upcoming nuptials. Neither did the initial hurt that had assailed her when Anthony was so eager to hasten her away from this paltry clutch of “high Society.” Even so, that had faded enough to make way for curiosity. Though she was tempted to believe he feared she would say or do something unsuitable, she knew him well enough by now to suspect that something else was afoot. She took a sip of the soup course, a light broth seasoned with
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