A Wicked Conceit, Anna Huber [best e book reader txt] 📗

warn Lady Edmonstone of Lord Henry’s relationship with Lady Drummond since she seems to be unaware of it. Not that a match with Miss Drummond is entirely out of the question, but it would be decidedly . . . awkward.” I repeated the word, being at a loss to find a better one.

I leaned to the side to peer beyond a trio of debutantes dressed in white at the familiar figure standing on the opposite side of the room, his auburn hair a bright spot among darker heads, and had a sudden inspiration. “Or maybe I should caution Lord Henry.” What better excuse to speak to him without arousing my husband’s suspicions, so I could demand he finally reveal the secret he’d forced me to keep.

Gage tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me to the side as Imogen and Lord and Lady Edmonstone entered the ballroom behind us. “Not before you grant me your first dance,” he said into my ear as we all applauded for Imogen as her father stepped forward to lead her onto the floor beneath the glittering chandeliers.

The orchestra struck up the notes to a waltz, and we watched as the pair stiffly circled the floor for a dozen bars before Lord Drummond passed Imogen off to a young gentleman not of my acquaintance. And apparently one whom Lady Edmonstone disapproved of based on the glare she aimed at Lord Drummond. Other couples then began to take to the floor to join them, including me and Gage.

I always enjoyed dancing with Gage, particularly when it was a waltz and I could circle the floor in his strong arms. But dancing while being so heavy with child was not quite the same experience. There was certainly no possibility of our bodies maintaining the appropriate distance. I only hoped that if Gage sensed my rising vexation he attributed it to the clumsiness I felt in my condition and not my distraction over Lord Henry’s presence.

When the waltz ended, Gage guided me to the edge of the room where we’d last spied Lord Henry, but he had since vanished. “I noticed Sir Phineas Riddell speaking to our hosts,” he said in a low voice. “I’m going to try to learn what I can about the jewelry Maclean told us was stolen from Riddell’s town house.” His lips quirked in dry humor. “Maybe I’ll offer him our services.”

I turned to scan the room as he departed, pondering where Lord Henry might have gone. I didn’t spy him in the lines of the quadrille, but the ballroom was large, and the guests spilled into a number of adjoining rooms. Like at most soirees, there would be a gaming room set aside for the gentlemen, and the various retiring rooms to meet the guests’ needs, as well as the dining room where refreshments could be found and a cold supper would be served later in the evening. I edged my way around the room toward the far door, refraining from asking those of friendly acquaintance whether they’d seen my quarry, lest such a request fuel more gossip.

At the door, I paused, wondering if he’d ventured into the corridor or simply to the other corner of the ballroom. The scent of warm negus, ham, and savories wafted down the passage to my right, telling me in which direction the dining room lay, and I decided it was as good a place to continue my search as any. Besides, no one would be surprised to find me there sampling the choice offerings at such an early hour, not in my current state.

In any case, the air was somewhat stuffy, and I wasn’t the only one strolling in that direction. I suspected many had gone in search of a cool drink of punch or ratafia. Lord Kirkcowan was the lone figure moving counter to that flow and, unfortunately for me, determined to waylay me.

“Lady Darby,” he drawled as his stride checked before adopting a decided swagger. “Venturing forth without your husband, I see.” He paused before giving his next word a great deal of emphasis. “Again.” His yellow tobacco-stained teeth flashed as if he’d just said something fiendishly clever.

If it would not have drawn more unwanted attention, I might have slapped the smug grin off his face. Instead, I merely replied in a disinterested voice. “Lord Kirkcowan.” I tossed a negligent glance over my shoulder. “I thought you’d be in the gaming room. Why, you haven’t found your pockets to let again, have you?” I tilted my head in mock concern.

He chuckled, his gaze flicking to the side as a lady and gentleman passed us with a look of interest. “Why, whatever are you talking about, dear girl. I’m on my way there now.”

“I see.” I blinked vapidly, not unlike the chit he implied me to be before leaning forward to whisper loudly. “Are you certain that’s wise? What if they don’t let you play?”

“Of course they’ll let me play,” he snarled. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but my pockets are plenty plush.”

I turned my head to smile at a trio of matrons. “Of course they are.”

“They are, you pert piece of baggage!”

One of the matrons gasped at this insult, and they all turned to glare at him. Though I noticed none of them considered coming to my aid when he grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me farther away.

“Listen here, I’m on to a very lucrative enterprise now, and I don’t need some meddling minx and her besotted husband botching it for me.”

“Unhand me, Lord Kirkcowan,” I demanded.

He pulled me even closer, looming over me. “Not until I make myself clear.”

I knew he couldn’t do anything more to me, not in the middle of a corridor filled with people, but my heart kicked in my chest nonetheless. “Unhand me,” I ordered in an even louder voice, tugging sharply against his hold.

“You’re the one who encouraged my wife to leave me, aren’t you?” he hissed. “You put that bloody foolish notion into—”

“I believe the