Queen Bee(7)
Author: Amalie Howard

 

“A pleasure,” I said when she didn’t speak.

 

Next the marquess’s hand drifted to the other newcomers in order—a statuesque umber-skinned girl with shoulder-length black hair; a petite girl with coloring like mine and a short flattering haircut; and a slender brunette with rosy cheeks—who were all staring at me with predictable disdain. I sighed internally. Why did some girls thrive on intimidation? Though, if they were Poppy’s minions, they’d probably follow her right into purgatory if she commanded.

 

The marquess introduced them in turn. “Lady Simone Blakely, Miss Aarvi Nath, and Miss Emma Rhodes.”

 

“Are you here for the season, Miss Whitley?” Poppy asked, running the tip of her finger down Keston’s sleeve. I bit back a chuckle. She could be a pup urinating all over him for how territorial she was.

 

“I am,” I replied in a friendly tone. “It’s all quite overwhelming, truly. I was so grateful that Lord Ridley’s aunt made the introductions. I haven’t had much time to meet anyone yet. I’ve been furiously unpacking at my residence in Grosvenor, and since my presentation at court a few weeks ago, this is my first outing.”

 

“Grosvenor Square?” Poppy asked, eyes flaring.

 

I nodded as if I hadn’t just mentioned one of the most exclusive addresses in London. “Yes. Do you know it?”

 

“Ridley lives there,” Blake piped up. “Look at that, you’re neighbors!”

 

“Perhaps you’ll show me around sometime,” I told the marquess with a small smile. “I haven’t seen much of London.”

 

I could feel Poppy’s eyes on me. She was surely taking in the fashionable cut of my dress as well as the gleaming pearls around my neck. I doubt she’d recognize them, since Mama had seldom worn the piece. This heirloom and a parure of Burmese rubies were two of the few things I’d inherited that my father hadn’t sold off to pay the creditors.

 

Gratification filled me. Let her look. Let them all look. Turning to hide my smug expression, I drained the glass of lemonade and placed it on the tray of a waiting footman, before exchanging a look with Lady Birdie. My eyes shifted to the four couples finishing the quadrille, and my chaperone didn’t miss a beat, moving closer with a warm smile.

 

“You should dance, Lyra,” she suggested. “Perhaps one of your new friends will see fit to ask you.”

 

“What a lovely idea! Ridley, dearest,” Lady Jersey said in a loud voice. “You really must ask Miss Whitley to dance, seeing that it’s her first ball. My sweet Patience was just recounting that she has no one else in the world, and came back to London as her father’s last wish. Isn’t that just tragic? The poor dear.”

 

I almost chortled at the irony of Lady Birdie’s given name. Her complete lack of patience was a source of constant amusement for me.

 

“As you wish, Aunt,” Keston said easily, and detached himself from Poppy’s clutches, extending his arm to me. “Miss Whitley, care to join me for the cotillion?”

 

Poppy couldn’t say anything without seeming churlish and ill-mannered, especially to someone as powerful as Lady Jersey. Her lips flattened, but she turned, dragging a disgruntled Blake, whose mouth formed a silent and theatrical why me. I bit my lip to stop from giggling.

 

I put my palm on the marquess’s forearm and let him lead me to the middle of the floor, where the other couples were getting set up for the cotillion. I thought that Keston would join Blake and Poppy, but he steered us to another part of the ballroom, where Ansel stood stiffly with a petite, dark-haired young lady who resembled him.

 

“Lord Ridley,” the girl chirped. “You’re looking hale.”

 

He canted his head. “Lady Rosalin. Allow me to introduce Miss Whitley. She’s new to town.” Those warm brown eyes brushed over mine. “This is Lady Rosalin, and you know Ansel, or ‘the Scholar,’ as you’ve just nicknamed him.”

 

Ansel flashed a grin. “Is it because of the spectacles?”

 

“Yes,” I replied when we took our places. “They do make you look rather erudite.”

 

“When the truth is that he wouldn’t know a scholarly lesson if it jabbed him in the eye,” Rosalin muttered under her breath as we placed our right hands together. I laughed at the dry remark. “Everyone knows he only wears spectacles to impress girls.”

 

A dull red flush filled his cheeks. “Quiet, Cousin. You’re embarrassing me, and I promised Mama I would dance this set with you.”

 

I bit my lip at Rosalin’s miffed expression, but then the music began and I focused on the steps as we formed a large circle. Keston’s hand was warm in mine as we separated, and I bowed to Ansel while Rosalin did the same to Keston. We twirled and spun, and I couldn’t contain my delight.

 

“You dance well,” Keston said as we met again for the next turn.

 

“Thank you, Lord Ridley,” I replied, a hint of mockery slipping out. “It’s remarkable what a few lessons can do for us gauche country folk.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

I lowered my lashes. “I know. I was only teasing. My dance instructor will be pleased that I have acquitted myself well with a duke’s son and earned his everlasting admiration.” He shot me a bemused look, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. I was supposed to be charming him, but my body’s absurd response at being this close to him made me testy.

 

We separated again, and my new partner was Blake. I hadn’t realized their foursome had appeared next to ours after the last turn. “Having fun, Miss Whitley?”

 

“Not as much fun as I’m sure you’re having,” I told him with a sideways glance at a fuming Poppy who was now paired up with Ansel.

 

Blake grinned and rolled his eyes, making me chuckle and earn a sharp glower from my nemesis. “She doesn’t like you.”

 

“I gathered,” I said. “Are she and the marquess a couple?”

 

His lip curled and his eyes brightened with mischief. “No. She only thinks she has some claim on him, but Ridley isn’t interested.”

 

That tidbit was delicious. From what I’d picked up in the gossip rags, the marquess and Poppy were expected to marry. This new information didn’t change my plans, however. Keston might not be into Poppy, but she was clearly into him. And besides, making him fall for me and then breaking his perfidious heart would be extremely gratifying.

 

“And you, Sir Charming? Any young ladies here catch your interest?”