Marjorie Farrell by Lady Arden's Redemption Read Free Book Online Page B

that you were just dancing with, Arden? It doesn’t look right, you know, to leave someone in the middle of the dance floor.”
    “Yes, my dear, I know.” With anyone else, Arden would have answered sarcastically, but she knew Celia’s gentle admonition came from concern for her, not the proprieties. “But he made me furious,” she explained.
    “How?” Celia was surprised that any man had managed to get such a warm reaction from her cousin.
    “He actually dared to refer to that ridiculous title. But it was not so much that he did so, as how he did it. He was intent upon provoking me, I am sure.”
    “You didn’t say anything insulting, did you?” asked Celia anxiously.
    “If you mean did I manage to make some apt comparison to bird or beast?” said Arden with a smile. “No, I did not. In fact,” she went on, eyebrows drawn together, “I couldn’t manage to think of one,” she said. “Well, never mind. He is beyond rapier wit—it would take a bludgeon to affect a fellow like him.”
    “Oh, dear, here comes Lord Heronwood,” said Celia, watching him approach with two glasses of orgeat.
    “Do you want me to go, Celia? If this attraction proves serious, we will have to meet someday.”
    “I suppose so,” sighed Celia. “Do stay.”
    Lord Heronwood had been dreading the inevitable meeting with Lady Arden. Inevitable, because he was in love with Celia and intended to offer for her before the Season was over, as soon as he was sure of her feelings. He knew she had begun by pitying his discomfort and humiliation. Celia had risked her reputation and approached him without a formal introduction in order to apologize for Arden’s ridicule. She had been so sweet and shy that he was able to forget his own wounded sensibilities. After thanking her for her concern and trying to reassure her, he had gone to Lady Broadhurst later that evening and had himself formally introduced. Celia had blushed prettily, and he had found himself in the unusual position of the one drawing out, rather than the one being drawn into, conversation.
    He knew that he loved her after the first week of their acquaintance. He felt less awkward around her, and much less self-conscious about his height and chin than he would have believed, given the beginning of their acquaintance. He found himself looking at family portraits, especially his father’s, and realized he had much to be grateful for! His own chin was much more noticeable than his sire’s.
    Oddly enough, he had reason to be grateful to Arden, he thought, as he approached the two ladies. After a day or two of feeling utterly humiliated, he had decided to prove to himself and others that extreme height and slender form did not preclude manliness, and had managed to act as though nothing had been said.
    He was , therefore, able to hand Arden and Celia the orgeat and explain that he had had a glass at the table and could easily spare this one to Arden.
    Arden made a genuine effort to keep the conversation going. It was strained, but it was slowly progressing when she became aware of someone’s approach. Celia’s eyes widened in surprise and Arden turned to find herself looking at Captain Richmond.
    “Good evening, Miss Denbeigh, Lady Arden,” said Gareth. Offering his hand to Heronwood, he said, “Captain Richmond, my lord.”
    Heronwood bowed, grateful for another man’s presence, and completely oblivious to the tension between Arden and the captain.
    “You are newly arrived in England, sir?” asked Heronwood.
    “Only two days ago, my lord.”
    “You’ve been in Spain and Portugal, then?”
    “For the last two years.”
    “Then you must have been at Talavera? What was it really like? We only get short newspaper accounts.”
    “I would rather not speak of it before the ladies, my lord,” said Gareth shortly.
    Heronwood flushed and Gareth cursed himself for his own reaction. But he always had a hard time when civilians wanted exciting descriptions of battles. They did