Page 12 of The Bridal Quest

"Lady Claire is in good looks tonight," Maura went on. "Don't you agree, Humphrey dear?"

She turned a sugary smile on her husband, standing on her other side. Humphrey smiled back, pleased at his wife's comment, "Yes, she does look lovely. So like you to point that out."

It never ceased to amaze Irene that her brother, so intelligent in so many other ways, never saw through Maura's pretense of sweetness to the sharp claws beneath.

"No matter what others may say, I think it is wonderful for her to dance."

Humphrey frowned a little. "Say? What does anyone say?"

"Nothing," Irene assured him firmly, shooting Maura a daggerlike look.

"Of course not," Maura agreed smoothly. "Why, there is nothing at all wrong with a woman of her age dancing with her cousin—even if it is such a lively dance. And while one would be quite correct in presuming that some women would do it to call attention to themselves, of course your mother would never do that."

"No, never." Humphrey blinked, looking at his wife with some concern. "Do people say that?"

"No," Irene interrupted flatly. "They do not. There is nothing wrong with Mother's dancing, even if it were not with her cousin, and no one of any consequence would say so." She shot a fierce look at Maura as she spoke the last few words.

"Indeed not," Maura agreed, assuming a prettily determined expression. "And so I shall tell anyone who has the audacity to say so."

"Yes, quite." Humphrey smiled down at his wife, though his eyes remained a little troubled. He turned to look at his mother again.

"And I beg you will not say anything to Mother about it," Irene went on, iron in her voice. "It would be most unkind to make her worry in any way over doing something that she enjoys so much."

"Oh, indeed." Maura nodded. "Though one cannot help but wonder whether Lady Claire, with her sensibilities, might not decide that she would prefer to stand up to one of the more sedate tunes."

"That is true," Humphrey agreed, casting a fond look at his wife. "You are always so solicitous of Mother."

"Humphrey!" Irene said sharply. "If you or Maura say anything to destroy Mother's happiness in taking an innocent dance with her cousin—"

"Irene!" Maura looked shocked. Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "I would never hurt Lady Claire. Why, she is as dear to me as my own mother."

"Irene, really," Humphrey said, exasperated. "How could you say something so cruel? You know how Maura feels about Mother."

"Yes," Irene replied drily. "I do."

"Sometimes your tongue is just too sharp. You know how sensitive Maura is."

"Now, Humphrey, darling," Maura said before Irene could speak, "I am sure that Irene did not mean to hurt me. She is so much stronger than other women. She does not understand how words can wound a softer nature."

Irene curled her fingers into a fist by her side, willing herself not to lash back at Maura with cutting words. That would be playing right into her hands. For all her silliness, Maura was amazingly clever at manipulating a situation to her advantage.

As Irene swallowed her words, Maura cast her a maliciously triumphant look, then turned her head away. "Oh, look, Irene, here is Lady Haughston coming toward us. Now might be your chance to talk to her, as we were discussing the other day."

"Talk about what?" Humphrey asked. "I didn't realize you and Francesca Haughston were friends."

"We are not," Irene began.

"Never mind, dearest," Maura put in, smiling at her husband. "It was just girl talk."

"Ah." He nodded, looking pleased at the thought of his wife and sister sharing girlish confidences. "Then I shall not press you."

He bowed to Francesca as she reached them. "Lady Haughston. How good to see you."

"Lord Wyngate. Lady Wyngate. Lady Irene." Francesca favored them all with a smile. "Such a lovely ball, is it not?"

They spent a few minutes on the usual niceties, discussing the lovely fall weather, the lack of entertainment in London now that the Season was over, and the health and happiness of Lady Haughston's brother and his new bride.

At a pause in the conversation, Francesca turned toward Irene and said, "I was about to take a stroll about the room. Perhaps you would care to join me?"