Page 7 of Redemption of a Marquess

She placed her fingers in his, then rose. He led her to the dance floor and they joined a group on the edge. She stood across from him, eyes on his chest instead of his face. Either Chilson hadn’t deflowered her or he had been unkind when he did.

The music began and, as he’d already observed, she danced well. That pleased him. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he would bring her to balls like this one. He would, no doubt, attend at least half a dozen soirées before doors closed to him. Perhaps they wouldn’t close at all. Being wealthy had its advantages.

When the dance ended, Valan slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and led her through the open balcony doors. A dozen other guests milled about the balcony. She cast a nervous glance toward the ballroom and slowed. Valan placed his hand over hers, keeping her fingers firmly wrapped around his arm. She was forced to walk alongside him as they descended the steps to the lawn.

“I do not think that I should come out here with you, my lord,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Viscount Chilson won’t like it.”

“Then we shan’t tell him. Do you like gardens?”

“Gardens are beautiful, of course. But a lady—”

“Viscount Chilson’s cousin’s daughter?” he cut in.

She looked sharply at him.

He flashed the smile that had earned him the name The Morning Star. “Would you prefer Viscount Chilson’s company to mine?”

She regarded him for a long moment as he slowed their steps across the lawn. “May I ask who you are, sir?”

“Valan Grey, the 6th Earl of Edmonds, the Marquess of Northington.”

“An earl and a marquess?” she said in a breathless voice.

He nodded, slightly disconcerted that it was his title that captured her attention and not his smile. He was getting old.

“You are more handsome that Viscount Chilson,” she murmured.

“You are too kind,” he said with a sardonic smile.

They left the lights of the mansion and entered a pebbled path lined by flowers. Moonlight illuminated her face. They had gone far enough. Valan slipped an arm around her waist and began lowering his head to hers.

“You are no gentleman!” a woman shrilled.

Valan stilled. Surely that wasn’t…

The bushes up ahead rustled violently, and a small form broke through at a rapid walk, headed toward them. The dark-haired beauty stiffened as the woman approached.

“Lydia?” The newcomer reached them and stopped. “Is that you?”

A large figure emerged from the bushes, but turned in the opposite direction and disappeared around a hedge.

“What are you doing here in the garden?” Miss Matheson asked.

“The same thing you are, it seems,” Lydia replied.

Miss Matheson looked at him and frowned. “Y-you.”

“I see you did not heed my warning about going off alone with a man, Miss Matheson.”

“You know her?” The dark-haired beauty stepped from his embrace. She glanced from Miss Matheson to him.

“Miss Matheson and I met the other night at Lady Peddington’s Midnight Ball.”

“Met the other night—” Lydia turned to face Miss Matheson. “What are you doing here?”