Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(32)

Geoffrey stiffened. Dionysus.

“Do you know it, my lord?” Beatrice went on.

Abigail touched her hand to Beatrice’s. “I’m sure His Lordship doesn’t want to hear about silly Greek myths.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “No, no. You’re quite wrong, Miss Stone. I’m intrigued.” He returned his attention to Beatrice. “You must remind me, my lady, about the story of Dionysus. I must admit it has been quite a while since I’ve studied the Greek classics.”

Abigail surged to her feet. “Er, if you’ll excuse me, I should leave you and Lord Redbrooke to your visit.”

Lady Beatrice sat forward in her chair. She reached for Abigail’s hand. “No you mustn’t!” Her blue eyes glittered with a faintly pleading expression. Then, with an unladylike show of force, Beatrice yanked Abigail back down into the seat she’d just vacated.

Geoffrey supposed he should be insulted. And he suspected he would have…if he wasn’t having such fun teasing Miss Stone.

Beatrice went on. “Placed in a labyrinth as food for a monster, Theseus convinced the King of Minos’ daughter, er…”

“Ariadne,” Abigail supplied weakly. Her fingers plucked at the fabric of her skirts.

“To take her with him if she helped him escape. Ariadne helped free him but he journeyed with her to an island.”

“The isle of Naxos,” Abigail added quietly.

Beatrice nodded. “But the fiend took her and left her alone.” A frown formed on her lips. “Everyone deserted her. Until Dionysus came to rescue Ariadne.”

Geoffrey sat frozen.

Lady Beatrice seemed to note that she had a captivated audience and continued. “Dionysus rescued her from abject loneliness and despair, and as a sign of his love, gave her a crown of seven diamonds.”

“Did he?” Geoffrey drawled. He glanced over at Abigail, who now trained her stare upon the mural painted at the central part of the ceiling. He wondered whether Abigail identified with Ariadne’s sense of loneliness and sadness. His amusement died a swift death.

A knock sounded at the door.

The butler entered with a calling card upon his silver tray. “The Earl of Sinclair to see Miss Stone.”

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes on the smiling, too damned affable Lord Sinclair, who filled the entrance.

Sinclair bowed low at the waist. “Miss Stone, my lady, how do you do?” He looked at Geoffrey. “Redbrooke.”

Geoffrey’s gut clenched as that unwanted emotion that felt remarkably like jealousy coursed through his veins with a life-like force.

Bloody hell.

Abigail and Beatrice rose simultaneously and curtsied.

Sinclair focused his attention on Abigail.

Geoffrey’s jaw tightened at the roguish gleam in the other man’s far too appreciative gaze. A gentleman didn’t ogle a young lady in such a manner. He…well, hell…he just didn’t.

Abigail and Beatrice sat.

Sinclair slid into the small, mahogany shell-back chair closest to Abigail. With its thin spindle legs, the seat was entirely too small for one of Sinclair’s size…and what’s more, too close.

Why when Sinclair sat in the blasted seat, Abigail’s leg all but brushed his thigh in a most inappropriate manner. God how he hated the other man for that subtle touch of her body.

Geoffrey was filled with an unholy desire to see that fragile piece of furniture shatter under the weight of Sinclair’s imposing frame.

Except, Abigail’s placid expression, indicated she was a good deal less impressed with Sinclair’s effortless charm than most other young ladies.

Ever the hostess, Lady Beatrice, engaged Sinclair in discourse. “We were just discussing the ancient classics before you’d arrived, my lord.”

“Specifically matters of astrology and astronomy, it would seem,” Geoffrey drawled, enjoying the heightened color that ran from the top of Abigail’s head, down her neck, and he wondered just how much lower...

“My cousin is rather well-versed in the topic,” Beatrice said.

Abigail dropped her gaze to her lap. “Beatrice is merely being polite.”

Beatrice shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no. Not at all. Er, that isn’t to say I’m not being polite. I am. But I’m also being truthful. Abigail knows nearly everything on the topic.”

Sinclair’s eyes lit with interest. He raised a brow. “Is that so?” He directed his question to Lady Beatrice. At his attention, color filled her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the floor, clearly not immune to Sinclair’s charm the way Abigail had been.

Geoffrey frowned. He suspected he should feel a hard resentment, even a stony annoyance at Sinclair’s effect on Lady Beatrice, and yet…

His eyes went to Abigail.

She smiled at Geoffrey, clearly having noted her cousin’s reaction to the roguish Sinclair.

“We were just discussing the tale of Dionysus and Ariadne,” Beatrice said.

“Ahh, yes. The tale of Theseus’ desperate attempt at survival.”

Geoffrey gritted his teeth. Of course, the bloody perfect Sinclair would be so versed in the classics to remember the details of the myth.

“Is it really a tale of desperation?” Abigail asked. “I consider it a story of Dionysus’ great love for Ariadne.”