Free The Harlot Countess by Joanna Shupe Page B

the opposite direction from where Simon stood.
    The introductions took several minutes. Most were familiar faces—the men, at least. When the duchess excused herself to check on the other guests, Maggie found herself with Lord Quint. The viscount gave her an elegant bow, stood, and pushed overly long brown hair out of his face. “Lady Hawkins. I look forward to more discussions on painting this evening. Do you plan on attending the Bathmore exhibit in two weeks’ time?”
    â€œI do, indeed. I am curious to see if this new batch of paintings solves the perspective issues in his last exhibit.”
    Quint chuckled. “You are a harsh critic.”
    â€œI suppose that is true. I am much more interested in the technique and the choices an artist makes rather than the end result.”
    â€œI quite agree. I find myself fascinated by the whys and hows of things.”
    Quiet and whip-smart, Quint had a subtle handsomeness under that rumpled exterior. Even his appalling fashion sense was endearing. So why did she not get fluttery in his presence instead of Simon’s? Quint would be better suited to her, with his keen eye and perceptive nature, and he seemed much too reasonable to mind her blackened reputation.
    Not that it mattered, as she intended to avoid the male species.
    Another familiar face joined them. A bit older than the others, Lord Markham’s presence tonight had been an unwelcome surprise. He’d attended a few of Maggie’s recent parties, never failing to issue at least one not-so-veiled invitation to her during the evening. She never encouraged him, but some men were more determined than others.
    â€œLady Hawkins.” Markham bowed, his smile a touch too wide as his eyes traveled up and down her form. “May I say how happy I am to find you here this evening? I had no idea you were on such intimate terms with Colton.”
    The gleam in his gaze said exactly what intimate terms he assumed. From everything Maggie knew, the duke and duchess were happily married, and there had been no rumors regarding the duke and another woman since his return from the Continent. But even if Colton did have discreet affairs, did Markham truly think the duchess the sort of woman to tolerate her husband’s conquests at her dinner table?
    â€œHer Grace issued the invitation after she attended my party last week,” Maggie told him.
    â€œIndeed,” Markham said, giving her an audacious wink that caused bile to rise in her throat.
    Yes, why else would the Half-Irish Harlot be invited? Markham’s assumptions were likely being made by everyone here, save Colton and his duchess. She straightened her spine to stand a bit taller. Let them think what they would; they always did.
    â€œExcuse me,” Quint murmured before sliding away. Maggie considered clutching his arm in order to prevent his escape, but Quint proved too quick.
    Markham took this as an invitation to move closer. Desperate for help, Maggie glanced wildly around the room. Her gaze swung in Simon’s direction, then stopped. Sharp blue eyes were locked on her, the irises bright with cold fury. She’d never seen him so furious. What in heaven’s name?
    â€œLady Hawkins,” Markham whispered, boldly reaching out to touch her hand.
    Simon didn’t miss Markham’s audacity either. A muscle in the earl’s jaw clenched before he pointedly turned away. An idea occurred. Perhaps if she kept Markham close this evening, Simon would maintain a distance. The notion was a harsh one and would ensure a tedious evening—but a woman must do what she must, after all.
    She gave Markham a blinding smile. “Yes, my lord?”
    The viscount blinked. “Oh, yes. Well, I had hoped to escort you to dinner. You never—”
    â€œYes,” she blurted. “I meant to say, I would be honored.”
    â€œExcellent.” Markham puffed up, his ruddy face turning a bit ruddier. “I quite