Page 75 of The Bridal Quest

"Of course not." Irene's smile was dazzling. "No one should ask you to."

He let out a noncommittal grunt. "You should speak to Lady Odelia and my grandmother."

"I suspect, deep down, even Lady Odelia admires your loyalty."

"And do you think any of those young ladies will?"

Irene hesitated. Quite frankly, she doubted it. What was disturbing, she realized, was that the idea of his prospective brides falling short pleased her.

"If she is the proper wife for you, she will," she answered finally, somewhat primly.

He looked at her for a long moment, and suddenly nervous, Irene turned away. "We should leave soon, or we will be late for supper."

"Yes. Of course."

He rolled the canvas back, securing it in place, and they left the tower.

* * * * *

The largest event of the weeklong house party was the ball scheduled for the following evening. There was only another day planned for the guests after that, and then the visitors would pack up and leave. The ball would be an opportunity for everyone to dress up in their finery and look their very best, and Irene felt sure that most of the girls planned to put their utmost effort into the evening.

She had spent almost a week watching the five young women flirt and chatter with Gideon—with the exception of Amanda Hurley, who seemed to be forming an attachment for Rowena Surton's equally horse-mad brother Percy—and planning entertainments to give them the opportunity to carry on their flirtations. Irene was, quite frankly, thoroughly tired of the whole lot of them, and she would be glad to see them gone in another two days.

As for the ball ... well, she had quite selfishly decided that she would do no more planning or assisting or maneuvering to aid any of them. She intended, instead, to set herself to the task of enjoying the evening. Her time here was coming to an end, too, and soon enough she and her mother would be back with her brother and Maura, a thought that was enough to quite depress her spirits. So, she decided, she would dress up in the lovely ball gown she had bought for the occasion, and she would dance and talk and laugh. And if Gideon again chose to ignore her ... well, that would be his loss.

The next evening—when she was dressed for the ball in the gold satin gown, her hair swept up into a soft arrangement of curls, tiny golden sparkling ornaments glittering here and there among her darker gold curls, and the gossamer-thin wrap of gold tissue draped across her bare arms—she knew her decision had been the right one. The soft shining material turned her eyes a pale, compelling gold and warmed her skin. She might be returning soon to a lifetime of spinsterhood, but tonight she was lovely and glowing. The very air shimmered with promise.

She went down to the ball with Francesca, who assured her as they descended the stairs that she would be the most beautiful woman in the house tonight. Irene smiled; the words were pleasant to hear. But the feeling was nothing compared to the warmth that filled her when she stepped into the ballroom and Gideon turned and saw her. His eyes widened, and the fire that sprang to life in them was swift and fierce.

He continued to gaze at her for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers, and it was not until one of the people with whom he was standing reached out to touch his arm that he finally turned back to his conversation.

"Well," Francesca said beside her, "I believe that Lord Radbourne's response was precisely what you intended."

Irene turned to look at her. "I did not intend anything."

Francesca let out a light laugh. "Irene, please, do not try to gammon me, I beg you."

Irene narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"The way you look, of course. The hair, the dress—you have taken particular care with yourself tonight, and the result is obvious. You look like a goddess. A golden goddess, at that. Who else would anyone think all this effort was for?" She cocked a knowing brow.

Irene flushed. "If you are talking about Lord Radbourne, I can assure you that I do not care a whit what he thinks."

"No, I am sure not." Francesca smiled in her catlike way. "Nor was that a look of triumph I saw in your eyes when he turned and stared at you as if he could eat you up."

Irene's cheeks turned even hotter. "Francesca! No!"

"Yes."

Irene wanted to protest, but she knew it would be foolish to do so. She had wanted to bring that look into Gideon's eyes. The question, of course, was why? And why did she feel such a rush of excitement and satisfaction at her success?

Did she want so much to outshine the other young women here? She did not really dislike any of them, and it seemed a very petty thing to do. After all, they were interested in becoming the next Countess of Radbourne, and she did not even want the prize.

But even as she had the thought, she knew she was not being entirely honest. It was true that she did not seek to be the Countess of Radbourne, but she had wanted the prize: the look in Gideon's eyes.

She did not want to marry. But she wanted Gideon.

"I am a terrible person," she confessed in a low voice to Francesca.