Bloody Relations Read Online Free Page B

two, I should think.”
    â€œWho’s the fellow with the collar?”
    â€œThat’s the Reverend Temperance Finney, a Methodist ranter who should be burning his cards, not slapping them on the table.”
    â€œAnd that’s not tea in his glass, I’ll wager.” Marc was enjoying himself immensely.
    â€œHis partner, the scrawny chap, is Samuel Harris, as lean and ascetic as Hepburn is paunchy and epicurean. He owns about a quarter of King Street.”
    â€œThen he’d have something in common with the other Tories.”
    â€œTrue: money, power, and privilege. Unfortunately for him, he’s Catholic.”
    â€œOh, dear.”
    â€œWith a French wife.”
    â€œMaybe they’re playing for keeps.”
    â€œWell, they look mighty chummy to me.”
    At this point the orchestra let out a fresh blast of danceable noise, indicating yet another shift in tempo.
    â€œI’d better get back there and rescue my girl,” Marc said.
    When he re-entered the ballroom, Beth was nowhere to be found. He paced the periphery of the waltz, a European dance which pinioned couples together in an elegant but over-proximate contact. Beth could not waltz. At least he assumed she couldn’t.
    â€œI can’t find her anywhere,” Marc said to Owen after they had gone halfway around the dance floor.
    â€œShe’s off in the powder room, I expect.”
    â€œIf it’s Mrs. Edwards you’re looking for,” said a feminine, cultured voice nearby, “she’s over there under the mezzanine, conversing with my nephew.”
    Both men gulped hard, then snapped a pair of quick bows to Lady Durham, after which they stood speechless in the presence of Earl Grey’s daughter.
    â€œYour wife, sir, is a delight, if you’ll permit me to say so.”
    â€œBy all means, Your Ladyship,” Marc managed to say.
    â€œMy nephew, my sister’s boy, Mr. Handford Ellice, has been standing beside your good wife for the past ten minutes—talking.”
    â€œI hope she’s not monopolizing his time—”
    Lady Durham laughed, a melodic ripple that would have done a diva proud. “Good gracious, no. You see, Handford is painfully shy and socially rather awkward. He refused to stand in the receiving line and spent the first hour of the party in our rooms, trying to drum up the courage to make a brief appearance, lest he suffer what he takes to be the wrath of his uncle. I believe we call that being forced to choose between Scylla and Charybdis.”
    â€œWell, I’m pleased he has found someone to talk to.”
    â€œMrs. Edwards has a way with people,” Major Jenkin said with a smile.
    â€œMy word, gentlemen. Look, she’s leading him towards the dance floor!”
    And she was. They passed by about twenty feet away, not aware they were being watched with some amazement. Marc got his first close look at Handford Ellice. The youth was slender and no more than five foot two in height. His hair was a light shade of brown, almost blond, his features compact but well formed. The most memorable aspects of his person were the pale eyebrows, alabaster complexion, and eyes so faintly blue that he might have been an albino. About him there was an ascetic, almost haunted look as he shuffled nervously behind Beth. The orchestra struck the opening chord for a minuet, Beth drew him gently by the hand and they stood erect and poised for the dance to begin.
    Lady Durham remained at Marc’s side, staring in disbelief at what she was seeing. Although usually stiff and prone to embarrassing miscues, her nephew moved easily through the minuet, hardly ever taking his eyes off his partner. At times he approached gracefulness, his body caught up in the music and the blissful forgetting it can engender.
    â€œI think you may have lost a partner for the evening,” LadyDurham said, then excused herself and hurried towards her husband, presumably to give him