Page 15 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“He cuts a fine figure in those trousers.”
“Eileen!” a third woman exclaimed. “You are too scandalous.” Though her words were chiding in nature, her tone was anything but.
Agnes had heard women talk about Fletcher in passing before, but she’d never paid too much attention. She’d never really wanted to know much about his romantic rendezvous. But now, since accepting the task to reform his wicked ways, she supposed such gossip was her business.
“Will you sleep with him again?” the second woman asked.
“I certainly would. He’s a lover unlike any I’ve ever had.” The one called Eileen chuckled. “I swear I felt the vibrations of pleasure run through my body for three days afterward.”
Harriet’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but Justine silenced her with a look.
“I do wish my husband would hurry up and die already,” the third woman said. “I swear that old goat will likely outlive me and then I’ll never get the opportunity to experience the greatest lover in London.”
“’Tis a shame he only shares his bed with widows.”
The three women walked away leaving Agnes and her friends to wonder what else might be said about the wastrel that was Lord Wakefield.
“I thought you said you were calling him to task about his lustful ways,” Justine said, her pale-green eyes leveled on Agnes.
“I have spoken to him,” Agnes said. “Though he wasn’t exactly receptive to reforming.”
“I doubt many of them will be,” Matilda said.
“What is your plan?” Harriet asked.
“Well, I am not giving up. I shall show him the error of his ways. I merely need to approach it differently to convince him he’s wrong,” Agnes said. “There is a fundamental flaw in his logic and once I convince him of this fact, then the rest will fall into place.”
The women separated then, each going off with a dance partner. Agnes had just finished dancing with Michael when the young Lord Travers came to collect her.
Michael frowned at the younger man, eyeing him suspiciously.
Lord Travers glared at Michael in return.
How did she always manage to put herself in these positions where she should be able to diffuse the awkwardness and instead she made it worse by just standing there? The music began on the next song and she glanced at Michael and gave him an apologetic smile. Truth be told, he was shy, but she’d much rather dance with him than Lord Travers.
Michael then bowed to Agnes. “Miss Watkins, always lovely to see you.”
“You as well,” she said with a smile. He was very pleasing to look upon with golden hair and deep-green eyes. He strode away as Lord Travers took her arm.
“Miss Watkins,” he said in his slightly nasal tone, “you look spectacular in that gown.” His eyes slid down to rest of her cleavage.
She repressed a shudder and didn’t even bother to say thank you. Why had she agreed to this dance in the first place? Lord Travers wasn’t an unattractive man. He was actually considered quite the bachelor to catch, considering his youth and fortune. But with the way that spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth as he spoke and how she could feel the sweat from his palms through her gown and his gloves, he did not appeal to her in the least.
“You know I have not changed my mind about us,” he said.
Oh dear, here it came. This was why she rarely danced with him. She winced, bracing herself for his words.
“I will convince you to marry me one of these days.” He smiled broadly which only drew attention to the white lines of spit at the corners of his grin. “I desire you and only you, and I shall have you.”
“You flatter me, my lord, but as I’ve told you before, I am not in the market for a husband.” When could she be done with this foolishness and simply enjoy social gatherings without the pressure of would-be suitors. She was ready to be considered a spinster—a woman firmly upon the shelf.
“Yes, yes, that is why you women do make yourselves so appealing to us. Feign indifference so that we proceed with a chase.”
Annoyance tightened her frame and she shifted a little farther away, putting distance between them. “I can assure you, Lord Travers, that I am not doing anything of the kind.”
He chuckled. “We shall see.”
She endured the rest of the dance in silence, then quickly made her way to her mother’s side to inform the woman she was leaving for the evening. A headache was always a worthy excuse. In truth, she found herself giving the driver of her rig Fletcher’s address.
