If William, their footman, was surprised by the nature of their abrupt return, he showed it only in the brief lifting of his beetle-black eyebrows. “Where’s Lord Marlinscar?” Vaughan barked, as he threw off his hat and gloves. Bella tugged at the ribbon fastening of her cloak, only for Vaughan’s grip to tighten again around the top of her arm causing the garment to fall and puddle around their feet. “Has he not returned with you, milord?” “If he’d returned with me, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?” Vaughan snarled. William’s habitually wooden-like face scrunched into a frown. “No, I suppose not, milord.” Despite the pinch around her upper arm, Bella fought to stifle a giggle. Though she remained vexed at Lucerne for running off, and doubly so at Vaughan for dragging her from the music recital at such an early hour, seeing Vaughan succumb to a snit was far too great a delight not to appreciate, particularly as he saw himself the victim of some conspiracy.
