Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(7)

“No. Thank you, my lord. I can manage.” He released her and nodded, but as he stepped away, a sudden fear gripped Gemma. If she were to meet with Colin again, she would be alone. She needed someone to provide a buffer between her heart and the man’s scorn. “Lord Maddox!” Her voice faltered into a frantic squeak.

He spun around to face her. His expression betrayed his concern. “Yes?”

“I… I would like you to escort me. Thank you. For offering.”

His golden-green eyes sparkled with humor, as if he knew why she’d changed her mind and couldn’t help but mock her pain. After all, he and Colin were as thick as pirates in the West Indies.

Gemma’s stomach turned uneasily, but she took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her into the gentlemen’s gaming den.

“There he is.” Lord Maddox lifted a hand to gesture toward Hawke, who seemed deep in conversation with the gentlemen at his table. Not surprisingly, they were the same fellows he had introduced her to earlier in the evening. Mr. Everett, Mr. Sumner, and Mr. Percival laughed raucously at the point he had just made.

“I see him, thank you.”

“Then I shall excuse myself, my lady, to locate my party, by your leave.”

“Of course, my lord.”

She made her way closer to her brother, hoping to get his attention without having to engage in pleasantries with the other gentlemen at the table. All she wanted was to go home.

His table was near the corner of the room, located just behind a pillar. As Gemma drew up behind him, pieces of the conversation from the table floated to her ears.

“That, gentlemen, is why I removed my sister from London for the winter.”

“You say your parents were against the match?”

“They were once I finished my description of the fellow. And, of course, his abysmal rank of knight served only to support my cause.” The others laughed at his mocking tone. “You know, of course, I’ve never liked Sir Wilde. I have no intention of letting him worm his way into my sister’s affections.”

“She certainly deserves the best,” one of the gentlemen added. Gemma believed the voice to be that of Mr. Everett. Though she could not see clearly from her place behind the pillar.

“Right. And Wilde is nothing but a pretender. His reputation comes purely from the company he keeps. None of it is of his own doing. And now, look at him. I was right to keep them apart. He has deteriorated into the worst sort of creature.”

“How long did he continue in his suit?”

“Weeks. Months. Even after I ceased sending the missives on her behalf.”

“He is a persistent fellow,” Mr. Sumner said.

“As persistent as a rat after the cheese,” Hawke said with a disdainful laugh. “And twice as repulsive.”

The rest of the gentleman laughed.

“Well, who can blame him? She is a tasty piece of cheese.” Mr. Percival raised his glass. “To the cheese.”

“To the cheese,” the rest of them said in unison and raised their glasses in salute.

The sound of their mocking laughter sent a chill burning down Gemma’s spine. Colin. Hawke was the reason he hated her. Some ancient grudge her brother held against Sir Wilde was what had truly kept them apart. And Hawke had convinced their parents of Colin’s unworthiness.

Indignation rose like bile in her throat, and she stepped from behind the pillar to address her brother.

Instantly, Mr. Everett stood to his feet, and Mr. Percival choked on his brandy —served the blackguard right, and Gemma hoped he’d never recover from it. A tasty piece of cheese, indeed.

Hawke glanced up at her as though the conversation she had just overheard had never happened.

“My lady,” he said with a sickeningly gallant grin, standing slowly.

“My lord, I beg your pardon. I have had my fill of dancing this evening. If it pleases you, may we take our leave?” Her voice was level and in perfect control. A direct contrast to the turmoil that raged within her mind and soul. Her lifetime of practicing proper etiquette was her support now. She would not make a scene in front of the peerage for the wide world.

“Of course, my dear.” He nodded and turned to his entourage, offering them a conspiratorial wink and a slight bow. “Gentlemen.”

Mr. Everett bowed to Gemma. His smile was almost apologetic, but Gemma did not care to determine the depth of it. After all, he had toasted the cheese along with the rest of them.

Gemma curtsied and took her brother’s arm, though her mind was spinning with all the ways she could injure him in the process. Patience, Gemma, she told herself. Soon enough they would be alone, and she would have her say.

****



Hawke led her back into the ballroom so they could say their farewells to the hosts. She stood awkwardly to the side as he laughed and joked with Mr. Smythe. Had he any idea how upset she was? Or how uncomfortable?

Gemma exhaled and crossed her arms, stealing a glance to her right, where the door led outside. A few more feet and she would be rid of this awful, torturous night.

Wilde suddenly appeared across the room. He looked unsure on his feet as he stumbled toward the door with a woman on one arm.

“Pity, for I would have liked to take my turn at taming that man tonight,” a feminine voice said next to her. Gemma did not recognize the woman, but she was beautiful.