Page 39 of Courting Miss Lancaster
More eyes popped at this, yet another example of Adam’s higher standing than the royal family. The prince did not, as a rule, apologize for the inconveniences he routinely inflicted.
“As you were not present for the receiving line, perhaps you would pay your respects to the young lady we honor this evening.” Adam’s request did not remotely resemble a request. The prince obviously didn’t take it that way.
“Of course,” he answered, his skin a mottled mixture of blotchy red and deathly pale.
Harry sensed Athena’s moment of panic even before he felt her hand tremble inside his own. He squeezed her fingers and handed her over to Adam, as he was obligated to. That felt wrong on so many levels. Adam cared for her because she was Persephone’s sister, but he knew so little about her, understoodso little about her needs and struggles. He, Harry, should have been the one to stand beside her in her worry, to undertake her introductions. Instead, he hung back, melting into the crowd like a good “suitor sorter” whose usefulness had long since run out.
A moment’s exchange satisfied conventions and, apparently, drained Adam’s store of patience. With a commanding nod of his head and an annoyed wave of one hand, he instructed the orchestra to pick up the next set, and he moved on, leaving the prince to fend for himself. Any other person in the entire kingdom would have been hauled off for treason. But Adam’s actions inspired only a look of utter relief on the prince’s face.
That look was discussed long after the prince’s hasty departure. The only thing Harry heard discussed nearly as much as His Royal Highness bowing to the Duke of Kielder was the unprecedented attention Athena was receiving from none other than Mr. George Rigby, he of the splendidly expensive flowers and supposedly empty coffers.
Harry had been forced to give up his promised supper dance with Athena. The Dowager Duchess had declared that for Athena to go in to supper with Harry, who was, in her opinion, quite like another brother to the “dear girl,” would be the wisest course of action and the most likely means of avoiding any undesired talk regarding favored suitors. The irony of that evaluation had stung far more than Harry had let on. Even Mother Harriet did not see him as suitor material.
In the end, it had hardly mattered. When Mr. Rigby had requested a second set with Athena not halfway through the ball, Harry had been called in to cut the presumptuous man out. Having had his dance with Athena, however, he could not be permitted the supper dance as well. That honor had been given to Mr. Charles Dalforth.
An hour after the fact, Harry was still seething. Dalforth was a decent sort of gentleman, and despite knowing thatDalforth had warned Athena against the gentlemen Harry was introducing her to, Harry reluctantly admitted that under different circumstances, he and Dalforth might very well have considered one another friends.
Dalforth, despite aggravating Harry by his very presence at the ball, was not Harry’s primary concern as the clock in the front entryway of Falstone House struck one. He was far more concerned about Athena. She had been doing well, apparently more at ease than she had been earlier in the evening. She had danced every dance, smiled genuinely, even laughed now and then. Athena had dealt quite well with the bombardment of attention she had received from an apparently oblivious Mr. Rigby, gently rebuffing him when necessary, repeatedly reminding him that he had received the customary number of dances, sending him for lemonade when his presence was too constant for even the most patient of people.
But Athena was missing.
And so was Mr. Rigby.
Chapter Sixteen
VW
“Stand aside, Mr. Rigby,” Athenainsisted.
She had been cornered after leaving the ladies’ withdrawing room and, essentially, herded into the seldom-used back sitting room. It was far enough from the ballroom to be unnoticed by any other guests. Mr. Rigby’s attentions, up to that point, had been little worse than tiresome. A knot was forming in her stomach, however, as she studied the look of unfeeling determination in his eyes. He stood between her and the only exit in the room. Athena knew very little time was required before her absence would be noted. It was her ball, after all.
“Allow me to return, please.” Even as she spoke the words, Athena knew they would have no effect. She clamped down a sense of panic, determined to keep herself under control.
Mr. Rigby shook his head, keeping near the doorway, a look of concentration on his face that seemed to indicate he was listening for something.
Athena took several deep breaths. Crumbling would only play into Mr. Rigby’s hand. First, she needed to understand his intentions, his reasons. She was certain, however, that he would not respond openly to a direct question. “Is there someone in particular you are attempting to avoid, Mr. Rigby?” she asked, trying to make her tone sound genuinely concerned for him. “I am certain this person could be made to leave the ball.”As could Mr. Rigby.
He only shook his head, though he swiped at a trickle ofsweat making its way down his forehead. His color was not good, Athena noticed. Perhaps the man would pass out, and she could leave him there in a heap on the floor. The idea was promising.
“If you wish not to be found—”
“Not be found?”he interrupted, a humorless chuckle in his voice. “Oh, we are going to be found, Miss Lancaster. It is only a matter of time.”
“But if we are found alone, together...” Did he not understand the implications?
Quite suddenly she understood. She was to be compromised, forced to marry him to save her reputation. She shook her head, trying to rearrange the dozens of thoughts suddenly swirling inside into something that made sense. His attentions had been pointed—she would not deny that—and yet he could not possibly imagine that she had encouraged his suit. Moreover, they hardly knew one another. Mr. Rigby certainly couldn’t imagine himself in love with her.
A dozen discrepancies jumped out at her with alarming clarity. Mr. Rigby was dressed well, but the cuffs of his coat were frayed, the elbows shiny from repeated use. His shirt and cravat were the slightest bit yellowed from frequent laundering. His hair was a little long, as if he hadn’t had it cut recently.
Mr. Rigby’s interest in her had been sudden and, in retrospect, a little desperate. There was too much evidence of Mr. Rigby’s relative poverty to leave any room for doubt. He was in need of money, rather immediately, if Athena didn’t miss her mark.
“My dowry,” Athena sighed, the pieces falling into place.
“£20,000,” Mr. Rigby said. He shook his head in seeming disbelief. “Do you have any idea what £20,000 means to a man only one step ahead of his creditors?”
“You mean to force my hand.” Tension gripped Athena’s limbs. It was a nightmare. There had to be a way of avoiding thatunthinkable outcome. Perhaps if she kept enough of a distance, and if she were fortunate enough to be found by Persephone or Harry, the entire ordeal could be smoothed over. Anyone else would spread the tale with astounding speed. Adam would probably kill them both.
Adam. A sudden surge of hopefulness enveloped Athena. Adam was the key. “You are taking quite a risk, don’t you think?” She tried to sound unconcerned, haughty even. “The Duke of Kielder is not a gentleman to be trifled with.”
