What is a proper young lady to do when she finds a stranger sleeping in her bed?
Angelique Grafton doesn't know much about love. Resigned to marry the man her late parents intended for her, she can't help dreaming of more than a loveless marriage. W...
Dear Diary, I cannot help it. Sometimes, Philip reminds me of something slimy. Maybe a nasty, green toad. But then why doesn't a kiss turn him into a prince?
"Chettisham," the marquess said tonelessly, finally letting go of her even as he took a step closer.
"Pensington," Philip replied in the same even tone.
Couples continued dancing around them, ignoring the silent battle between the two men. The cheerful music filling the room seemed ill-matched to their set faces and assessing eyes.
Looking back and forth between them, a ball knotted inside her. "Do you know each other?"
"We've met." Philip took her arm possessively. "Now, dance with me."
The marquess looked at her for a moment, as if he wanted to say something. She was torn between wanting him to and not wishing him to make a scene. Then he gave a curt bow and left. Philip took her hand to lead her through the steps of the quadrille. No longer enjoying the dance, she wished she could have left the dance floor too, but that would have been terribly rude. So she stayed.
"I did not know you had arrived in London," Philip said, his light-blue eyes cold as ice. "I thought you were arriving in a fortnight."
"That was the original plan," she admitted. "I arrived sooner. Only yesterday."
"You should have informed me."
Her answer had displeased him. She could see it by the tightening around his lips. He was quite a handsome man, really—when he wasn't angry—tall and slim with light brown hair. Her cousin, Joan, always pointed out that he had an attractive face with his clean lines and straight nose. Objectively, she could agree. He was not displeasing to look at, but something about him always made her feel awkward and uncomfortable.
Sometimes, she couldn't help comparing him to something wet and slimy. He might be considered a catch with both excellent looks and a future title, but she had never felt attracted to him. Not at all like how her body hummed to life every time the marquess was near. Which was disconcerting when one considered she barely knew the man.
"I didn't realise you would be here," she said quietly, hoping to keep their discussion away from the ears of the other dancers.
"That is hardly the point. In the future, I should like to be informed of any change of plans where you are involved."
She nodded, used to not arguing. It wasn't as if anyone ever listened to her. The music finished, and Philip led her off the dance floor.
"Would you like some punch?" he asked with a pleasant smile. His mood had turned for the better now that she was agreeable to him. Like her family, he preferred her to do as he said and stay silent when not asked for her opinion. No wonder the lot of them got on so well.
"Yes, please."
"Wait right here." He disappeared towards the refreshment table, leaving her standing alone by the edge of the dance floor. She looked after him as he made his way through the crowd. Had he left her alone on purpose? Being in a busy room filled with people made her uneasy, and she would have much preferred if he'd brought her back to her brother. Instead, she now stood alone in a mass of strangers.
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