Page 26 of Tempting the Marquess

“That sounds like a potential experiment, my dear,” said Lord Trentham with a wicked grin. “And you know how I enjoy assisting with those.”

Louisa sniffed disdainfully, but the sultry glance she shot her husband could have melted steel.

“Ugh. Newlyweds,” whispered Caroline, but her fond gaze was on Stephen, who stood on the other side of the Hartley drawing room talking to a small group of fellow shipping investors.

Samantha’s eyes burned again. Trapped in aural purgatory, and accompanied by friends all blissfully married. This might well be her worst night in London.

“Trentham, that was not a challenge. No need to summon every stray cat in the vicinity with your yowling,” said a deep voice behind her, and she tensed.

“Jealousy is a terrible thing, Standish,” said Lord Trentham. “Didn’t think you were going to make it. When Whitehall beckons…”

The marquess joined the semi-circle and inclined his head. “Indeed. But I wouldn’t miss this gathering. Esther invited me, and it is hard to refuse her, as you wellknow.”

Her stomach churning at the confirmation of his friendship with their hostess, Samantha stared at the floor. Those same poets who wrote the odes to lips and eyes made it seem like meeting someone special was a wonderful, heart-lifting experience. Clearly they had been inhaling the nitrous oxide Louisa had spokenof.

“Ah!” she gasped, as a hard elbow to the ribs made herjump.

“Lord Standish asked if you were enjoying the evening,” Caroline muttered. “You ignoredhim.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Well, my lord, it’s been, er, most enlightening—”

A tinkling laugh interruptedher.

“There you are, Lord Standish!” Esther Hartley said, smiling warmly as she joined the group. “Papa mentioned he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you this evening, so I offered to come and fetch you. His leg is playing up a little, so he is restingit.”

Samantha gritted her teeth as Esther rested her hand on his sleeve. The woman had been kind and friendly from the outset, yet Samantha had never wanted to overturn a full punch bowl on anyone more. And now Esther was guiding the willing marquessaway.

“Well, well, little Samantha Buchanan. How are you, mydear?”

Turning, she managed a smile for Sir Francis Quinn, a good friend of her parents that she didn’t particularly like. But right now, a distraction was more welcome than marzipan at Christmas. “Very well thank you, Sir Francis.”

“I was just thinking you look a little parched. May I escort you to the refreshment table?”

Caroline frowned. “Perhaps Westleigh—”

“Some champagne would be delightful,” said Samantha loudly. The other musicale guests had the right of it. Drink to ease thepain.

After fetching two glasses of champagne, the baronet chatted away about the weather, his hounds, and some soiree her mother had attended, and she only had to nod from time to time as she savored the tart, fizzy beverage.

“I say, my dear. You are looking a little flushed if you don’t mind me saying. Claremont would have my hide if I didn’t look after you. Perhaps a few minutes of air on the balcony?”

Samantha hesitated. “My friends will be waiting.”

“Indeed, indeed. But young ladies make the best impression on young bucks with a peaches and cream complexion, like sweet Esther. Not raspberry.”

Oh God. Sir Francis was politely saying she looked like a washerwoman at the end of herday.

“Very well. Just a few minutes.”

It was cooler on the upper balcony overlooking the Hartley’s well-tended gardens, and the evening breeze felt wonderful on her cheeks.

“Aren’t you just a picture. As beautiful as your mother.”

“Thank you, Sir Francis,” she replied uneasily. He was standing too close now, and from his brandy-scented breath, not nearly as sober as she’d first thought.

“But far lusher,” the baronet added, his gaze settling on her breasts in a way that made her feel ill. “The best pillows for a man’shead.”

“I really must get back to my party. Will you excuseme?”