God, he owed so many people so much. It was time he pulled his head out of his arse. He glanced at the marquess with what he hoped was appropriate gratitude. “You won’t find another like Lady Loughton. With each day that goes by, I’m shown that.” When he happened to peer at his wife, her thankful smile nearly knocked him sideways.
“You’d best prove yourself worthy, Laughton. My son tells me you’re struggling, but good women are rare.” The marquess nodded and winked at his wife. “Patient ones even more so. Try not to antagonize them too much.”
“I shall try.” The point had never been driven home so strongly. He regretted those two brandies he’d had, regretted how he’d treated her when they married.
“Good. Don’t cock it up, Laughton. I feel the two of you are well-matched.” Then, he changed the topic altogether as he addressed Lavinia. “Will you indulge me in a dance? It appears they’re rolling back the carpets as we speak.”
“I’d be delighted.”
Percival lost a couple pieces of his heart to her in that moment when she looked so stunning and poised, accepted everything with a grace beyond his ken, and had managed to apparently charm a marquess to boot.
How else would she manage to surprise him?