Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

T he afternoon tea held by the Duchess Curzon was well attended. No matter the weather or if anyone felt poorly from the excesses of the night before, few would miss one of the most influential matrons of the ton's events.

Lord Tyndall was no exception to this rule either since he'd decided to attend and watch her like her papa had the first time she'd ridden a pony independently.

Genevieve sat beside Matilda. She tapped her slipper against the Abussson rug, waiting for Charlotte to arrive so she could ask what she was doing boating with Tyndall the day before.

Last evening, she had barely slept, so restless at the thought of her friend being courted by such a rogue who, only a few nights ago, was kissing her with abandon.

"I promise you, Genevieve. Charlotte boating with Lord Tyndall meant nothing at all. He was paying her kindness when Lord Wilton, whom she had been walking with in the park, abandoned her to escort Miss Hogsworth boating instead. I swear I did not know where to look at Charlotte's befallen visage, and had you been there, you would have thought highly of Tyndall, as I did that he would save her injured heart at that moment."

Genevieve sighed, wanting to believe Matilda, but she also did not like the unsettled feeling that overcame her at the thought of Tyndall courting another. Perhaps that was why her sleep last night had been far from restful.

Surely not. She loathed Tyndall…

All of her unease, of course, could be laid at Lord Tyndall's door. Had he not kissed her at the Fraser masque, she would not know what it was like to be held in his arms, marked by his wicked lips. The thought of his mouth moving on hers, his tongue utterly inappropriate and delicious against hers, made her skin prickle with awareness even now.

Blasted man.

She looked across the room and met the very frustrating man's gaze. She ought to look away, but something in his stormy blue eyes meant she could not.

Did not want to.

Oh, please do not be smitten with Tyndall . Of all the men in London, he was the last man she should ever want to marry. They were lifelong enemies—had been for years. After one silly kiss, she could not have feelings—emotions that she had worked so hard to sever—bubble up inside her again and cause strife after his rebuttal of her years ago.

"And anyway, why do you care if Charlotte did romantically like Tyndall? It's not like you want him for yourself. You have your cap set on Mr. Venzellons, who, speaking of the man himself, has just arrived."

As much as she did not want to blast her silly soul, Genevieve looked away from Tyndall and toward Mr. Venzellons, who spoke to her brother and mama. She bestowed a welcoming smile as they made their way across the room to her.

Genevieve stood and patiently waited for Mr. Venzellons to bow before her.

"Genevieve, you remember Mr. Venzellons of New York," her brother said proudly, looking between them both. "Mr. Venzellons, my sister, Lady Genevieve."

Genevieve held out her hand and smiled prettily. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Tyndall standing nearby, too close for comfort, and his annoyance all but emitting about the room like a burning flame. What was he doing here anyway? He should not interfere in her life, making her uncomfortable at home. Only Mama's friends and gentlemen who wished to court her should be here.

Tyndall had no right to be here at all.

"A pleasure to be reacquainted, Lady Genevieve. At last, I am before one of the most beautiful women London, and I should say England, has to offer." He picked up her gloved hand and kissed it, meeting her eyes as he did so. Not making any mention of them only walking yesterday.

It seemed Mr. Venzellons was fond of games.

"Why thank you," she replied, having heard such compliments many times before. It was disappointing that he could not think of anything more original than all the other gentlemen in town often said to her.

"Would you care to take a stroll, Lady Genevieve? I see others are making use of the gardens this beautiful afternoon."

Well, he may prove a little more interesting after all.

A walk outside, away from her prying family's eyes, was always welcome. "I would like that very much." Genevieve took his arm, and he led her onto the terrace. There was a light breeze this afternoon, but still, the day was warm and comfortable. They walked along the terrace, both quiet for a time, and she wracked her mind for something worthy and interesting to say. For some unknown reason, the silence was awkward, and that did not give her the best reflections for a successful courtship.

"You did not mention that we walked yesterday, Mr. Venzellons. Are you always a little naughty in society that our reintroduction had not occurred earlier?" she couldn't help but ask.

He smirked. "I enjoy playing with words and people, but I promise there is never any malice in my actions." He studied her a moment before he said, "And I'm thankful to your brother for inviting me. I have been deliberating on how to call on you again. I enjoyed our stroll yesterday."

They walked onto a path that led through the lawns and past rows of roses, lavender, rosemary, and foxglove. An abundance of fragrant plants her mama could request the gardener to plant.

"As did I, Mr. Venzellons."

"And now that I have met you and your delightful mama again, I know that I shall wish never to leave." His tone was teasing, his deep American accent thick and low, a huskiness she had not heard before.

"Well, you are most welcome to stay." They passed other couples and groups of friends taking the air before they started back toward the house.

Genevieve glanced toward the terrace. A mistake the moment she did so. Her steps faltered, and she covered her faux pas with a chuckle. "Oh dear, I seemed to have gained a pebble in my slipper. Can we pause here a moment while I fix my shoe?" she asked, uttering a wrinkle. Seeing the angry, disappointed, and tight-lipped Lord Tyndall watching them, she knew Tyndall was no gentleman she wished to encounter too soon.

"Oh, of course, let me help you."

Before Genevieve could protest, Mr. Venzellons kneeled and reached for her foot. He lifted her leg, clasping her thigh. Genevieve gasped, having never been manhandled by a stranger in such a way. The naughty, knowing grin Mr. Venzellons bestowed as he pulled her slipper off her foot and tipped it upside down was one she wasn't sure she liked particularly. It appeared a little menacing, untrustworthy, and the opposite of what he had declared earlier.

"There, it is gone." He slipped her shoe back on, but his hold on her leg lingered for longer than it ought. Heat kissed Genevieve's cheeks, and before she could pull her leg out of his clasp, the shadow of Lord Tyndall covered Mr. Venzellons.

"I suggest you let go of Lady Genevieve's leg before you no longer have hands to hold anything of value ever again." Tyndall's tone was deathly quiet, but to the well-trained ear, one anyone knew not to ignore. Never had she ever heard him sound so incensed and threatening.

A little flutter occurred in her chest. Did Lord Tyndall genuinely care for her reputation… For her?

"And out of curiosity, are you going to be the fellow who removes my hands?" Mr. Venzellons asked, a cocky lift to his lips.

Oh dear, had he truly asked that question?

Genevieve looked around for her brother, her father, anyone to stop what she feared from happening—fisticuffs in her garden before all the ton . Her mama would never forgive her for the scandal.

Genevieve stepped between Lord Tyndall and Mr. Venzellons, ensuring no fighting occurred. "I require refreshment, Mr. Venzellons. If you…"

"A wonderful idea, Lady Genevieve. Let me escort you." Tyndall clasped her hand and pulled her away before she could answer.

Mr. Venzellons's startled visage was the last thing she saw before she was towed around the terrace to the side of the house and out of sight of all their guests.