In the Night Read Free

wave of embarrassment washed over her. Octavia knew. Of course she knew. Gossip was thin this time of year; every little thing that happened at a ball or public place was considered news.
    “Certainly not.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Wynthrope Ryland, he of the nameless-blue eyes, hadn’t actually been given a chance to ask her. Not properly at any rate.
    “Hmm. I must have heard incorrectly.”
    The best course of action would be to ignore that pointed remark. The best course of action would be to continue tacking up the decorations and pretend ignorance.
    Her shoulders sagged with resignation. “What did you hear?”
    Holly forgotten, Octavia hastened closer. Thank the Lord the servants were going to help with the decorations. At this rate, the two of them wouldn’t be done by the time the guests started to arrive.
    The redhead’s expression was gleeful, as though Moira’s humiliation the night before was a good thing. Obviously, whatever her friend had heard, she had heard wrong.
    “I heard,” Octavia murmured, as though there was a chance they might be overhead, “that a certain gentleman paid particular attention to you.”
    Well, that was one way to put it. Moira opened her mouth and paused. How best to respond?
    “I made a proper ass of myself, Octavia. That is what happened.”
    Gone was the happy insinuation, replaced by an expression of confused concern. “Surely not.”
    Moira turned away, choosing to toy with the decorations on a nearby table rather than face her friend’s sympathy. She rubbed a strand of crimson ribbon between her thumb and forefinger. The velvet was butter-soft to the touch. “I thought he wanted to dance with Minnie.”
    “Instead of you?”
    What was that surprised tone for? She faced the other woman with a frown. “Of course.”
    Octavia mirrored her expression, the pale flesh of her brow furrowing tightly. “Why would you think that?”
    Moira chuckled in disbelief. Was it not obvious? “Because every gentleman who approaches the two of us at a ball wants to dance with Minerva.”
    “Ah!” Octavia raised a finger as though she was about to impart great wisdom. “My brother-in-law is not ‘every’ gentleman. In fact, I’m not certain the term ‘gentleman’ applies to Wynthrope at all.”
    Just the mere mention of his name had Moira blushing again. Ever since she first laid eyes on Wynthrope Ryland several years ago, she had thought him the most attractive man in England. He hadn’t spared her a second glance, andwhy would he? Back then she had been an overweight, shy country miss. The only man who paid any attention to her at all had been Anthony, her best friend—her husband.
    Late husband. Dear Tony. She missed him still. He had remarked upon Wynthrope Ryland’s looks on occasion as well.
    But Octavia didn’t know that Moira admired her brother-in-law’s face and form. It was too humiliating to admit. Like an infatuated schoolgirl, she often looked for him at social events. Odd, but she hadn’t thought of him at all during her mourning period. She hadn’t thought of much at all other than the fact that her best friend was dead and the world was a grayer place for his loss.
    But her mourning period was over, socially as well as personally. Shame on Minnie for leading Mr. Ryland to believe otherwise. Although her sister’s quick thinking had stopped Moira from potentially making an even bigger cake of herself.
    “I wish you had some idea of your own worth, Moira.”
    Jerked from her thoughts by her friend’s voice, Moira glanced up. “I know my worth. You would have me inflate it beyond reason.”
    “No. Just to the point where you realize you are every bit as comely as your sister.”
    Was it Octavia’s righteous tone or the words themselves that made her laugh so sharply? “You are a dear friend, but I am not so fragile that you need lie to me so kindly. Minnie is ten times prettier than I am.”
    Octavia’s expression was dark. “Prettiness is