Free Compromising the Marquess by Wendy Soliman

deeply offended him. She would report every detail, every little change, to his stepmother in a disparaging fashion. Hal didn’t care, he merely objected to the woman herself. As far as he was concerned, she and Lady Denby were cut from the same cloth. Hal continued to observe his nemesis as she mentally catalogued his possessions. Whilst all the other ladies merely sipped at their champagne, Lady Wantage was on her third glass, causing Hal’s derision to increase.
    When dinner was announced, Hal didn’t hesitate to proffer his arm to Leah. “Would you do me the honour, Miss Elliott?”
    She looked surprised by the request. “Surely you ought to—” She cast a glance at some of the more senior ladies present, her aunt amongst them.
    “In my own home I do as I please. If any of my guests find that offensive, I daresay they will not come again.”
    “You make it sound as though you wish that were true.” She placed her hand on his sleeve.
    “A man in my position can afford to do as he likes.” He matched his pace to hers as they traversed the room, all eyes upon them. “It’s one of the privileges of rank.”
    “But surely, with that rank comes responsibility.”
    “I am fully aware of my responsibilities.” He shrugged. “I ought to be. I have had them drummed into me since I was in leading strings.”
    “It’s difficult for someone like me to understand how onerous that must have been. One sees only the outward signs of wealth and privilege.” Miss Elliott covered her mouth with her free hand. “Forgive me, I speak too freely.”
    “Not at all. Your frankness is a pleasant change.”
    Flick had organised everyone else, adroitly managing to finish up on Darius Grantley’s arm. Lady Wantage looked ready to commit murder when she found herself seated towards the foot of the table, away from Hal and his brothers, stuck between the old squire and another elderly gentleman who appeared to find much to admire in Augusta Wantage’s bosom.
    Hal seated Leah on his right, holding the chair until she had arranged her skirts to her satisfaction.
    “Thank you, Lord Denby.”
    He bestowed one of his most intimate smiles on her. “The pleasure’s entirely mine.”
    “You don’t look especially pleased.”
    Hal’s eyebrows shot up. “I admire your backbone, Miss Elliott. Flick is constantly telling me that my habitual expression is fierce, but not many people outside the family have the courage to point that out.”
    “Perhaps that’s because I’m not afraid of you,” she said with an arch smile. “Nor do I require your good opinion.”
    Then what do you require? “Tell me what brings you to Denby, Miss Elliott.”
    “My sister’s health. We live in Wapping, but I daresay you have no idea where that is.”
    “You suppose me ignorant of the geography of my own capital city?” he asked coldly.
    “Perhaps you know where it is, rather like one is aware of the existence of Italy, but I cannot imagine you having occasion to venture into such an unfashionable district.”
    “You lived close to the river?”
    “Yes, in Cinnamon Street.”
    “Then you were near to the timber yards I do business with. Perhaps we passed one another in the street.”
    “I was not aware that you had connections with the timber trade.”
    Hal arched a brow. “Is there any reason you should be?”
    “None whatsoever. I was merely making conversation.” She helped herself to a stuffed pigeon breast from the platter in front of her, picked up the correct cutlery and commenced eating. “It would appear strange if we had nothing to say to one another.”
    “You’re right, of course.” Hal’s mouth curved. He was enjoying Leah’s irreverent company, a breath of fresh air compared to the sycophantic grovelling he normally had to put up with at such gatherings. “You were telling me about Cinnamon Street.”
    She lifted her shoulders, simultaneously declining a second glass of wine from a hovering footman. “There is little