The Angel in My Arms: A Regency Rogues Novel

gentleman whose hair matches Miss Tisdale’s?”

Marcus searched the crowd, looking past the dancers to a group of men and women conversing. He caught sight of the woman, her countenance pleasant enough, though a hint of something severe could be seen just beneath. “Yes.”

“That is Lady Lenora Tisdale. A force of nature, that one. And the only person Sarah fears.”

Marcus studied the woman. “I can’t imagine Miss Tisdale being afraid of anyone.”

Bennington folded his arms and leaned back against the railing. “Perhaps ‘fear’ is the wrong word. Lenora will not mortally wound you physically, but if one could kill by vexation—well, that’s the woman to do it. No, you’ll want to keep a goodly amount of distance between you and Lenora

“It’s nothing.”

Yet Marcus could not help but wonder if the interlude at the lake was the reason for Lady Tisdale’s “impending attack.” True, Miss Tisdale may as well have stood there in her chemise for all the concealment her sodden gown had provided. But he’d made no advances whatsoever. And her brother was present the whole time. Not to mention the mighty-sized mongrel.

“I am mystified,” he said frankly, watching as the two women left the room.

“You’re not alone,” Bennington commiserated, punching him lightly on the arm. “Nothing about Miss Tisdale is ever straightforward. Or my wife for that matter. Women,” he finished, his eyes softening yet again as he watched his wife leave.

“Is Miss Tisdale such a trial, then?”

Claire interrupted, her mouth pursing as if she’d eaten a particularly disgusting bug.

“Come now, Claire,” Sarah protested. “You know as well as I that the Honorable Ambrose Dixon is so monumentally unpleasant a person that even Mother cannot wholeheartedly recommend him as a husband.”

Claire nodded in agreement. “Proceed.”

“Well,” Sarah continued, “Weston’s return will have Mother thinking on marriage.”

“True, though she’s not made any attempts since Lord Reginald Busby,” Claire pointed out.

Sarah huffed. “Which means she’s out of practice. She was dreadful at it before. Just imagine what I’ll be asked to endure—what Lord Weston will be forced to endure—in the interest of a fortuitous match. And Bennington’s befriending him will only encourage her.