Trent turned his attention from Marissa back to Lady Christina, who had been joined by Miss Archer, both women busy smiling up at him and batting their lashes. His body was still humming with the awareness of Marissa, her scent still clinging to his coat.
Patience.
Something else Trent was good at.
3
“Oh dear, you don’t look the least pleased,” Adelia piped up from behind Marissa, casting a glance at an elderly matron whispering to her companion with ill-concealed distaste. “And you’re quite flushed.” Adelia linked her arm with Marissa’s, walking them both away from the wall of undesirable women. “Your Lord Haddon is scrumptious.”
“He’s not a cucumber sandwich, Adelia,” Marissa snapped. “And he’s most definitely not my Lord Haddon. He’s too bloody arrogant.” Haddon had certainly made his point by depositing her amongst these women.
“Most men who look like that are, my dear. My darling young soldier is just such a man. Crooks his finger, and I can’t help but rush to his side to be entertained.” Adelia gave a small laugh.
“I shouldn’t worry. A young lady as pedigreed and gently bred as Lady Christina Sykes will likely sob and collapse into a mound of ribbons on her wedding night. I’m sure her mother has taught her to endure. If Haddon were to marry her, he’d be bored within a fortnight, if not sooner. And he’s much too delicious to be bored. I should offer him my companionship while he’s in London.”
Marissa snapped her head around. “You’ll do no such thing, Adelia.”
Adelia pursed her lips in pretend shock. “I was only joking, Marissa. My goodness, no need to be so. . .territorial.”
“I’m sorry. It’s only my head has begun to ache.” She placed a hand to her temple. Her head did hurt, both from the press of bodies in the Cambourne ballroom as well as from seeing and sparring with Haddon. “My apologies for my ill humor.” Marissa took Adelia’s hand. “I fear I must take my leave, Adelia.” She’d no desire to be at the ball a moment longer.
“Marissa, you cannot leave yet. The evening is young. You’ve only danced once.”
Once had been enough.
“Enderly has just arrived.” Adelia pointed with a flick of her fan to a distinguished gentleman.
Catching sight of Marissa, the older man changed course with a wave and headed toward her. Tall and fit for his age, Enderly’s form held only a touch of softness around the middle. He still had a full head of hair, though it was not the rich brown of Haddon’s but the color of new fallen snow. Enderly did cut a dashing figure, she assured herself.
Marissa cast a sideways glance to Haddon across the ballroom.
It was like comparing an aging Persian cat to a sleek black panther.
I’m being unfair. Enderly is perfectly respectable.
Enderly, member of Parliament and wealthy mine owner from Cornwall, was perfect for Marissa. Widowed and in possession of a slew of sons and grandchildren as well as an immense country estate overlooking the ocean, he was significantly older than she. Enderly would never stay up all night debauching her.
“Lady Cupps-Foster.”
Marissa looked up to find Enderly taking her hand with familiarity. The pale blue eyes twinkled at her. He smelled subtly of pine and mint. Not the least exotic.
“Mr. Enderly.”
Enderly spared a glance at Adelia but didn’t take her hand. “Lady Waterstone.”
Adelia made a muffled reply. She didn’t care for Enderly.
“You’re looking quite lovely, my dear.” His eyes strayed to her neckline in appreciation of her bosom but didn’t linger overlong. She thought he was probably more interested in the diamond around her neck.
There was no shock of excitement at Enderly’s presence. No whisper of arousal sliding up her silk-clad legs.
No chance he might break her heart.
Marissa bestowed a lovely smile on him. “Thank you, Mr. Enderly.”
“What a magnificent necklace,” he said.
She’d been correct. His admiration had been for the diamond around her neck and not her bosom. Marissa tried to summon up a modicum of disappointment and found she couldn’t. “A gift from my father on my twentieth birthday.”
“A mere addition to the jewel of your beauty, my lady.”
Nodding in acknowledgement of what was a weak compliment and ignoring Adelia’s mutter of disdain for Enderly, Marissa said, “I wasn’t sure you’d attend tonight.”
“I wouldn’t miss the Cambourne ball, my lady, though I’m here more to play cards than to dance.”
Of course he was.
“You’ve saved me the trouble of sending you a note tomorrow. I’ve been invited to a small gathering next week at Lord Duckworth’s and was hoping you’d allow me to escort you. Lord Pendleton is speaking about the bill he is trying to gain support for in Parliament.”
“I’d love to attend. Lord Pendleton is a passionate speaker and his reforms of great interest to me. I’ve been following his career for some time given that my late husband’s estate borders the Pendleton estate, Brushbriar.”
Surprise colored Enderly’s features. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Lord Pendleton.” Ambition flared briefly in his eyes; he was likely already deciding how his association with Marissa could benefit his own relationship with Simon. “He’ll be delighted to see an old friend, I’m sure.”
Marissa doubted that. “I haven’t seen him in years,” she lied smoothly. “It will be delightful to see him again.”
“Wonderful. I’m pleased to escort you.”
“I look forward to it.”
Enderly, obviously realizing he’d ignored Adelia and ever polite, proceeded to ask her about the weather, a topic neither of them found the least interesting. But it did allow Marissa the opportunity to watch Haddon discreetly.
A pretty, overly endowed brunette appeared to have him captivated, whether by her display of bosom or her sparkling wit, Marissa wasn’t certain. She was blushing and giggling as she looked up at Haddon, completely oblivious that Lady Christina Sykes seemed about to do her bodily harm.
Miss Priscilla Archer. The girl’s name popped into Marissa’s head. And she has a spectacular bosom. Doubtless much perkier than my own.
Haddon lifted his head and caught her watching him.
