Page 10 of In With a Chance

“Yes, she’s kept her name in every way but the paperwork. Well, she is a well-respected sea captain,” his friend said with a shrug, a look of dazed affection on his face whenever he spoke about the woman he had so swiftly married. “Have a good evening, Quintrell.”

No—No, Michael could not have been doing this to him. He could not just disappear and leave him amidst strangers.

“Michael!” hissed Ernest, trying to grab the man’s arm as he slipped past him and out of the drawing room.

“That was Michael I saw, wasn’t it?” came Lady Pernrith’s voice.

Oh, damn and blast it all to hell.

Taking a slow, steadying inhale and promising himself that he was going to make the man pay for his complete idiocy, Ernest turned away from the window and smiled weakly at the woman who was his hostess.

“I’m afraid it was, my lady,” he said as he inclined his head. “Though I regret he did not stay long enough to introduce me to your family.”

“Well, I presume you are Ernest Quintrell, his friend from Oxford,” said the woman with a knowing look. “Goodness, it feels like a very long time ago that I met you, though you probably do not recall. You were—well. A mite worse for wear.”

With growing horror, Ernest tried desperately to think of the moment to which she was referring. Dear God, had she turned up once to visit Michael? That sounded like something likely to occur—and that had to mean that he, Ernest, had been…

Well. Worse for wear, as the former viscountess had kindly put it.

Ernest grinned weakly. “How lovely to see you again, my lady. You haven’t aged a day.”

“Flattery is much appreciated, but not necessary.” Lady Pernrith beamed, but her expression became more serious as her gaze turned to her daughter.

Grateful for the excuse to do likewise, Ernest bowed low. “Congratulations on your forthcoming marriage, Miss Gwendoline.”

He had expected the woman to smile. He had presumed she might simper, or color, or declare that it was so sudden, or that she was so happy to be marrying the love of her life.

It had to have been a love match, after all, for a marquess to be finding his bride in the family of a relatively poor viscount.

Miss Gwendoline sniffed. “I suppose I should be glad of your congratulations, if I were not painfully reminded that they are the warmest I have received!”

Ernest almost took a step back. Well, there was the temper Michael had always mentioned, though he had never detailed how her chin jutted up and her lips pursed and her eyes flashed.

Nor how very intoxicating the combination was.

“I—I suppose it has been a surprise for your family,” Ernest said hesitantly, attempting to feel his way through the conversation.

He did not feel it very well.

“Why, precisely, it should be a surprise to my family that a marquess wishes to marry me, I’ll never know,” flared Miss Gwendoline, anger in her eyes. “One would have thought they’d be happy for me—happy to get me off their hands!”

Ernest swallowed. Damn it, Michael, this was why I needed you here—to navigate all this!

There was only so long one could be away from Society without losing the ability to make polite conversation. Or find polite conversation in the face of utter fury.

The trouble was, he didn’t want to placate her. That was, he greatly wished to placate her, but the method by which he wanted to do such a thing was not generally acceptable in polite Society.

By smoothing her brow, for example. By taking her into his arms. By kissing away the fury—

Damn it, man! She is betrothed!

He had held himself back from bedding a woman in two years, ever since he had returned to Yorkshire. The younger son of the local baron could hardly go about seducing maidens, and there weren’t enough widows around the place.

That was surely why his body was responding to this woman, why Ernest found himself stepping closer, found himself in fact murmuring in Miss Gwendoline’s ear, “I am certain Lord Ravenshurst is very fortunate to have you as his future wife.”

Miss Gwendoline glared suspiciously. “Did Michael tell you to say that?”

Ernest opened his mouth, realized he could see that this was a trap but did not know what would spring it, and decided to step around it. “And when are the nuptials planned between you and the—”