“Are you quite all right?” Miss Madeley looked at her, concerned. “You stepped away from them rather quickly, and I was sure that you had some dances remaining. Did you not want to step out with Lord Penforth? Not even after he has declared himself to be the gentleman who sent you the flowers?”
Shaking her head, Almeria let out a slow breath, aware of how it trembled.
“I am utterly overwhelmed,” she answered truthfully, as Miss Madeley murmured sympathetically. “I know that I should be pleased. I thought I would be delighted to know who it was, but instead, I feel a strange sense of almost disappointment.”
Miss Madeley twisted her lips for a moment, her brow a little lined as she thought.
“Are you disappointed because you have discovered who it is, or because it is Lord Penforth?”
The question stole Almeria’s breath for a moment, her confusion growing all the more.
“I do not know.” Her voice was weak, still shaking a little. “I do not knowwhatemotion drives me at present. All I know is that I want to be free from both gentlemen.”
Miss Madeley nodded.
“Then allow me to take you for another turn about the room, in the hope that we might find some more of our friends or even Lady Yardley. Although… might I ask you something?”
Almeria nodded.
“Of course.”
“Did you note that Lord Coppinger stated that you hadtwotypes offlowers in your last bouquet?”
Having very little understanding as to the meaning of her friend’s remark, Almeria shrugged.
“I must have said something to him about them. His behavior has been so very embarrassing, I am glad to be free of him also at present.”
She said nothing more, but her thoughts continued to tumble around her mind, refusing to settle, refusing to land anywhere until her head began to ache. For the first time in her life, Almeria was glad of the pain in her head, hastily finding her mother and requesting that they return home. Her mother’s concern for her daughter was immediate and thus Almeria soon found herself bundled in the carriage, with the horses heading towards home.
She could not have been more grateful.
Chapter Eight
“The blasted fellow!” Lord Trevelyan watched with a look of mild amusement on his face as Marcus stalked around his drawing room. “This is not something to be laughed about either!” Throwing a furious look at his friend, Marcus threw up his hands. “You are meant to be showing sympathy, at the very least!”
“Then allow me to explain the reason for my smile.” Rising from his chair, Lord Trevelyan poured two brandies from the drinks table, and then brought them back, handing one to Marcus and looking him straight in the eye. “Thus far, you have marched around my drawing room without giving a clear explanation for why you are doing so. I have heard something about Lady Almeria, and there is a wretched fellow involved also, but given that you have not told me his name nor explained what it is that he has done, I confess that I am quite at a loss.”
It was this explanation which stole Marcus’ ire away. Groaning, he rubbed one hand over his eyes.
“Forgive me, old friend. I thought that I had explained everything to you on at least three occasions already.”
With a deep sigh, Lord Trevelyan sat back in his chair, spread out one hand, and lifted an eyebrow in question.
“I am ready to listen to you, Coppinger. However, might you begin at the very start, and tell me what has happened?”
Marcus swallowed against the swell in his throat, pushing his anger away.
“As you may know, Lady Almeria asked Lady Yardley to write an article in ‘The London Ledger’ on her behalf. It begged whichever gentleman had been sending her flowers to announce himself to her, for while she was delighted with him, it was a matter of frustration and intrigue that no name had been given. I discovered this in conversation with the lady at the ball last evening and was, I confess, on the verge of doing as she had asked. But before I could utter my words of truth, Lord Penforth threw himself forward with nothing but lies.”
At this, the slight amusement which had lingered in Lord Trevelyan’s eyes vanished. Instead, he sat forward in his chair, one hand at his chin, his eyes a little shadowed.
“You mean to say that Lord Penforth is the one who has claimed to be sending Lady Almeria the bouquets which you have been sending?”
Marcus nodded, the pain of it striking hard at his heart all over again.
“I do not know what to do.” With a slight shrug, he took a sip of his brandy, lifting one shoulder. “Perhaps I should have told her the truth, regardless, but given how poorly I spoke to Lord Penforth thereafter, I was quite certain that I would then appear only to be attempting to discredit him.”
Lord Trevelyan frowned.
