Miss Delacourt Has Her Day by Heidi Ashworth Read Free Book Online

now.” Grandaunt patted Ginny on the knee. “Hopefully you will have a chance to clear things up a bit, though, if I am not wrong, I believe you received a missive from him. Would I be too much of a nosy one to ask what he wrote?”

    Grandaunt was never wrong, even when she was. What’s more, Ginny had never known her to care one jot for whether or not she was intruding on one’s privacy. Clearly she was giving Ginny a wide berth, and Ginny feared it meant that her grandaunt was feeling more than a little anxiety. Ginny drew a deep breath and chose her words carefully.
    “Yes, he wrote to say he would be attending one of the do’s we go to tonight, but I can’t be sure which one”
    “Never you fear! I took it upon myself to dispatch my own note. He will be at the soiree, and you shall have your dance”
    “Grandaunt, you are so kind!” Ginny wondered what accounted for it. Grandaunt was not above high-handed meddling-in fact, she rather wallowed in it-but it was not like her to be so thoughtful in her methods. Yet, Ginny owned, Grandaunt above all else wished for her grandson’s happiness and would stop at nothing to achieve it, apparently even if it meant stooping to kindness. Ginny prayed she was still deemed essential to Anthony’s happiness in Grandaunt’s mind. After reading Anthony’s poem, she knew she was in his.
    The Radcliff rout was a sight better than the Worthingtons’ hot and hasty affair, but only because Anthony thought he caught a glimpse of the back of Ginny’s head as she scurried through the crush of people intent on bowing and scraping to the Marquis of Radcliff and his marchioness. How could he have ever enjoyed such affairs designed for nothing better than to see and be seen? And why hadn’t Grandmama had the grace to share with him which party she would be attending tonight rather than listing them all? Surely she didn’t mean to drag poor Ginny to all three. But if not, which ones? There was nothing for it but to hasten through the routs and hope he would be in the Hadleys’ home long enough to at least encounter Ginny. He would much rather dance with her, truth be told, but he would take anything, must have something, even if just an eyeful, to get him through the night. To his chagrin, a perhapsyes, perhaps-no viewing of the back of her head did nothing to quench his thirst for the sight of her.

    Pushing through the throng, sidestepping a fallen glass of port here and a wad of wayward snuff there, he raced through the house and to the stairs in record time. Never mind that he had practically snubbed the marquis and his lady wife once he found himself close enough to greet them. They would no doubt take it to be on account of his suddenly heightened status. Hadn’t the vile Thomas Barron looked down his lofty nose at the world when he unexpectedly became Marquis of Radcliff, and for less reason? In the case of the future Duke of Marcross, only love would be allowed to break down the door of what he deemed polite, and he feared love was on its way to a rout he had already attended.
    Racing out into the street, he barked his name to the porter and scanned the crowds waiting for their carriages as well as those being disgorged from theirs. It was utter confusion and madness, but one person seemed to notice none of it as she moved toward him with single-minded purpose. Lady Derby.
    Was it merely his imagination, or were the crowds, like the Red Sea, parting in anticipation of her passage directly to where he stood? And were the guests all watching him, their faces the very picture of so many gasping fish that find they have suddenly landed on dry ground? Anthony knew he would be waiting an eternity for his carriage to be brought ‘round and would have no other option than to speak to her. The thought of diving into the swarms of people and pelting down the street like a bedlamite occurred to him, but Rebecca was upon him before he had a chance to so much as turn his head.
    “Why,