My Wicked Marquess by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online Page B

for the reasons a girl might hope—she knew that she would need to look impeccable. Appearances were all that mattered to Society, anyway, and in this gown, she could be confident that at least she’d look her best.
    Beyond the perfect dress, she had no real strategy in mind but to be her usual easygoing self and show the ton that she was fine and everything was normal.
    If Albert gave her any trouble, she knew she need not even make a scene. A few subtle comments delivered with a smile should be enough, she trusted, to cast his backbiting in a whole new, foolish light.
    All was not lost. She was confident she could still turn her situation around. Admittedly, it was ironic to find herself in this position after she had been so conscientious about her behavior all her life.
    In honor of her mother’s memory, she had tried at all times to conduct herself like the perfect lady.
    Fortunately, she had faith that some good always came from even the most difficult challenges. For example, this whole episode was a valuable lesson in finding out who her real friends were.
    Some had turned away, and she intended to remember their names; but many others, like Carissa and Jonathon, had remained steadfastly loyal.
    Thankfully, above all, she still had the blessing of the powerful ladies who ultimately controlled opinion in the ton. This was due, in part, to the support of her formidable great-aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Anselm.
    If it came to it, Daphne knew she could always summon her old dragon aunt to come and breathe fire on the ton on her behalf. But unless it became a true emergency, she preferred to handle it herself.
    In all, having Albert Carew for an enemy was no easy burden to bear, but having him for a suitor had been even more annoying. At least she no longer had to sit through his artificial paeans to her beauty.
    Pushing idly away from the door, she went to set her bonnet on the head form atop her chest of drawers, but her thoughts returned to the row in Bucket Lane. She still could not stop wondering what had become of her unexpected rescuer. She had so many questions about him.
    He was quite a mystery. Had his whole performance been indeed a ruse designed to lure the criminals away from her? Surely he had been as foxed as the gang members were to have attempted such a thing. His verbal abuses of them, his demands for his carriage, dropping his coin purse on purpose? She shook her head in amusement. If so, the man deserved a round of applause for his acting skills.
    It was difficult to know what had been real with him and what had been illusion. She just hoped he had escaped the mob alive.
    Wouldn’t that be something if her maid was right and he did show up at the Edgecombe ball?
    He did not look like the sort of man who would be received there. And even if he was invited, perhaps he had a prior engagement at the brothel .
    Daphne snorted. The dark stranger might have saved her life, for which, of course, she owed him her thanks. But beyond that, obviously, she could have nothing to do with any fiend who ever set foot in that place.
    If the gang had beaten him up, perhaps he had learned his lesson. Really, a gentleman ought to know better.
    With a soft, prim humph, she put the enigmatic strangerout of her mind and glanced in the mirror, cynically wondering which beauty potions to put on her face tonight in preparation for tomorrow. With the ton’s worst gossips sure to be watching, waiting eagerly to see the little drama unfold between her and Albert, she did not want to look one jot haggard or careworn over his nonsense.
    Who could say? She shrugged to herself. Perhaps her jilted suitor was finally over his tantrum. Albert might even surprise her, and greet her like a gentleman.
    It pleased her to think there was that chance.
    Then again, she rated the likelihood of it about as highly as that debauched, magnificent wild man showing up in the Edgecombes’ ballroom.
    Whoever he was.

Chapter 3
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