Free Susanne Marie Knight by A Noble Dilemma Page B

dreadful person? I am beyond mortified.” Petunia stamped her tiny foot, losing all pretenses of civility.
    “My dear.” Weatherhaven cleared his throat. “Whatever is the matter?”
    He did not moderate his tone to accommodate this intimate gathering. He spoke as if addressing his peers in the House of Lords.
    Bethany leaned in and lowered her voice. “The hour is far advanced, my lord, and indeed, the air is quite close in the ballroom.” She used her hand to fan her face, most likely for effect. “Perhaps you and Lady Petunia would prefer to repair to your own home for a comfortable coze?”
    Again, David smiled approvingly at his houseguest. Bethany had the invaluable gift of knowing exactly the right thing to say.
    Petunia fluttered her lashes. “But Davy, were you not desirous of me to stay at your townhouse?”
    “Our mother is here now, Pet, and she has taken Miss Branford under her wing.” David glanced at Bethany and smiled once more. By the stars, he could not help smiling at his young protégée, could he? He turned back to his sister. “In any event, you and Weatherhaven must make your plans for the upcoming journey to Paris.”
    “Indeed we do.” Weatherhaven nodded, then walked over to the cloakroom attendant. “We must have all the arrangements in place before the winter sets in.”
    After he procured his great coat and his wife’s warm pelisse from the attendant, Weatherhaven helped Petunia into the garment, then shrugged into his coat. Then the Viscount and Viscountess Weatherhaven left to wait in the anteroom while their carriage was brought to the front door. They were both silent. Silent as the grave, as the saying went.
    David did not envy the man. Soon, very soon, Petunia would acquaint Weatherhaven with the nature of his crime. She would harangue her husband until she was blue in the face.
    Poor bastard.
    But Petunia’s ire was not David’s concern. Once more he smiled, set Bethany’s hand on his arm, and led her back into the ballroom.

    Bethany walked back into the ballroom on Lord Ingraham’s arm. Although she felt like a queen, walking with him and seeing everyone’s admiring glances, a sense of sadness weighted down her soul.
    Again she contrasted the simplicities of village life to the city of London. More specifically, she thought of her new friend, Lady Petunia. One would think just by looking at her, that she had everything a woman could desire. Attractiveness, good breeding, noble birth, wealth, a fine husband…but something was missing. Something so important, it cut in Petunia’s very fiber.
    Lady Petunia felt threatened. She did not feel loved.
    Loved by her husband, at any rate. Petunia was insecure, a feeling that was as alien to this noble woman as was the thought of wearing rags and going hungry.
    Bethany sighed. If only she could help the proud but humbled Petunia.
    Standing by one of the marble Ionic columns strategically placed near the side walls of the room, she felt the Earl stir by her side.
    “Are you tired, Miss Branford?” he inquired. “Shall I procure some refreshments for you?”
    “No, thank you, sir.” She adjusted her scarf to allow a breeze of air to cool her off. “I, um, I was just thinking about your sister.”
    “And you became blue-deviled. I understand.” He glanced at her, then looked away. “Seeing Weatherhaven pay court to a former rival took the wind out of Petunia’s sails, that much is certain.”
    Bethany lifted up onto her toes and whispered in Lord Ingraham’s ear. “Does Lord Weatherhaven…regret marrying your sister?”
    The Earl took his time in answering. He raised his gaze to the ornamental ceiling with its golden molding and brilliant chandeliers, traveled over the ballroom dancers, then settled back onto Bethany’s face. “If Weatherhaven does have regrets, then I shall have to box his ears, eh?”
    He spoke in jest. She could discern that by the good-humored twinkle in his blue eyes.
    “Indeed, sir.” She