She needed to prevent any gossip now, Arabella reminded herself as she met Marcus’s blue gaze, for two dozen young ladies were looking on. She had to forget that passionate interlude with him this afternoon had ever occurred.
For the next few minutes, as he partnered her through the quick patterns of the dance, Arabella struggled to appear composed. His behavior was perfectly proper during the entire dance, but each time their hands met proved a severe distraction. She was usually quite a skilled dancer yet just now she seemed to have grown two left feet.
At the conclusion, Arabella felt absurdly flushed and breathless and so made a point of avoiding her sisters’ gazes, knowing they were watching her dealings with Marcus with avid interest.
She was preparing to select another partner for him when her least favorite pupil, Sybil Newstead, boldly stepped forward. “I should like to be first, Lord Danvers. The other girls don’t need the practice, since very few of them have actually received invitations to Sir Alfred Perry’s ball. I have, and so has Miss Blanchard.” Sybil shot a sly look at Arabella. “Miss Loring has not been invited, nor has Miss Roslyn or Miss Lilian. They are considered too scandalous to mingle with the local gentry.”
At Sybil’s savag
e remark, Arabella sucked in a sharp breath, but Marcus responded before she could recover.
Lifting a black eyebrow, he raked the girl with bored scrutiny. “Did no one ever teach you it is impolite to gossip about your betters, Miss Newstead? I would say you don’t need practice dancing; rather you need to work on your execrable manners.”
Sybil’s mouth dropped open, while her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. But Marcus was not done, it seemed. “Take care that you don’t annoy the wrong people, for a ball invitation can always be withdrawn. I am acquainted with Sir Alfred, did you know?”
He spoke softly, lazily even, but there was no mistaking his implied threat to have Sybil expelled from local society, as the Loring sisters were.
Arabella stared at Marcus, both surprised and gratified that he had defended her against the girl, even if perhaps he’d been too harsh. It was undoubtedly a lesson Sybil would not soon forget.
Yet there was a more tactful way to teach her that such cruel behavior was unacceptable.
When the girl scowled, Arabella remarked gently, “A lady does not grimace when a gentleman displeases her, Sybil. Nor does she make remarks that can be hurtful to others.”
“Yes, Miss Loring,” Sybil muttered, her cheeks still scarlet.
“You know that in polite society you are judged by your every word and action. You do wish to be considered a lady, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course, Miss Loring.”
Arabella smiled encouragingly. “Then perhaps you will be kind enough to allow Miss Trebbs the opportunity to practice first with Lord Danvers.”
“Oh, very well.” Conspicuously struggling to bite her tongue, Sybil stepped back, but not before flinging Arabella a rebellious look.
Arabella calmly ignored the spoiled girl as the excited Miss Trebbs took the floor with Marcus. But when she herself moved to the sidelines, she caught sight of her sisters’ expressions. Lily was simmering with suppressed anger and hurt at Sybil’s nasty taunt, while Roslyn was pretending a cool dispassion that hid similar warring emotions.
Arabella shared their feelings. Since their parents’ infamy had followed them all the way from Hampshire, they were not received in any of the better neighborhood households-in large part because their late step-uncle had publicly repudiated them for their mother’s sins.
It was a bitter pill for Arabella to swallow, not so much for her own sake as for her sisters’. They had learned to accept the inevitable, but still it stung to be shunned by nearly all the local gentry for scandals their parents had created.
Arabella watched the practice sessions with only half her usual attention, and at the end she was distracted enough that she let Marcus usher her into his carriage to take her home when she had meant to avoid being alone with him so soon after their romantic rendezvous.
“So tell me,” he said when the vehicle was moving, “why were you and your sisters not invited to Sir Alfred’s ball?”
“I should think it obvious,” Arabella replied, trying to keep her tone light. “The scandals still haunt us. In this district, no one who moves in higher circles will associate with the Loring sisters-other than Lady Freemantle and Miss Blanchard, of course.” She shrugged. “I don’t care about myself, really, but my sisters deserve better.”
A muscle worked in Marcus’s jaw. “I will see to it that you all three are invited to the ball. And I mean to escort you there myself.”
She looked at him curiously. She had little doubt he could persuade Sir Alfred and Lady Perry to issue them invitations, but she couldn’t understand why he would wish to. “You needn’t go to such trouble, Marcus.”
“I do need to. I won’t have my wards being shunned, especially since you’re being condemned through no fault of your own.” He was angry on her behalf, she realized.
Arabella forced a smile. “It doesn’t matter, truly. We are accustomed to being excluded. In any case, we have nothing appropriate to wear. Our ball gowns are four years out of fashion.”
“Then you will order new ball gowns made.”
“By Monday?”
“It can be done. I will send for a London modiste to attend you tomorrow.”