While she first attributed it to the rest of Society merely being polite and extending their sympathies for the loss of her father, she feared that it was getting out of hand.
There were never less thanfivegentlemen at a time and they tended to get louder as they boasted of feats she could not care less about.
She glanced at Lady Suzanna and hoped the older lady could see the pleas in her eyes. There was nothing more she wished than to be able topolitelyescape these fine young men and their endless posturing.
She could only wish to emulate Lady Suzanna, who was the picture of unflagging grace as she sat there, daintily sipping her tea like a goddess apart from mere mortals.
She glanced at the doorway, half-hoping to see His Grace walk in and put an end to her misery but he did not.
“I daresay there is no one who sits a horse better than I!” Lord Harlan declared, cutting off her reverie. “Do you ride, Lady Claire?”
Anyone who knew her, knew that before her father died, she and Lady Suzanna went to Rotten Row daily.
“Why, yes I—” she began.
“Splendid! You and I shall have much to talk about!”
“But I—”
“Nobody cares how your horse sits, Lord Harlan, if you cannot get off your high horse.”
They all turned around to find the impeccably dressed Marquess of Draydon walk in with a slight smile on his handsome features. He looked at Claire and smiled, apparently sensing that she was a little distraught.
“You did not even give the lady a chance to speak,” he rebuked in a joking manner as he sat down.
The rest of the room exploded in laughter as Lord Harlan sputtered futilely at Lord Draydon.
“I believe he’s got you there, My Lord,” Lady Suzanna said dryly.
Lord Draydon smiled. “Why, even Lady Suzanna agrees with me.”
With the attacks coming swift and fast, Lord Harlan huffily sat back down and sipped more tea to wash the bitterness off his tongue.
Claire, who was already bored to tears, was glad for the timely arrival of at leastoneman whose conversation she appreciated. Although he was possessed of a caustic wit, with an arrogance that seemed to be inherent in all noblemen except His Grace, it was incomparably better than the sort of drivel Lord Harlan and the others liked to engage in.
“Forgive me for my tardiness, Lady Claire, Lady Suzanna.” This time, he turned the full force of his charm on the ladies. “I was under the impression that it was fashionable to be a little late.”
Claire nearly laughed at that. It was an apology but not an apology, as well as serving as a jab at the overeager swains who crowded their doorstep.
She waved her hand delicately and smiled, “I suppose we can forgive you this time, Lord Draydon.”
He smiled at her. “I hope you can extend your graciousness towards me in the future as well.”
“I shall endeavor, My Lord, but patience has never been my strongest suit,” she replied with a little laugh.
At least with the Marquess present, the other gentlemen would not act as outrageously as they did earlier, for fear of being the targets of his witty remarks.
As much as she enjoyed the banter that he brought with him, she could not help but feel that he was a little…mean.
He certainly never turned that same caustic wit on her, true, but she could not help but feel sorry for poor Lord Harlan, who was only acting as the rest of his contemporaries did.
In all honesty, she missed His Grace, who handled such difficult situations with unwavering calm and gentleness.
Well, I suppose all remarkable men have their own ways of dealing with things.The Marquess with his rapier wit and His Grace with his immeasurable kindness.
While the Marquess might have the upper hand in such dealings, she felt that the Duke exemplified a better way of handling things.
If only he were here.
