Kissing the back of her glove, Rex was sure he could hear Hood’s teeth grating. It was a satisfying recompense for his own frustrated state.
“I…” Miss Wilson glanced wildly at Arabella, apparently overcome and unsure how to respond. Arabella smiled encouragingly, and Miss Wilson took a deep breath.
Rake that he was, Rex could not help but notice how nicely her breasts filled out the low neckline of her dress as she did. Too bad she was clearly a cipher—pretty but no real substance, not like Arabella.
“Thank you, my Lord.” There was a slight lift at the end of her voice as if she was asking a question instead of making a statement, and she dipped into an awkward curtsy, cheeks flushing bright red.
Yes, physically appealing, but not at all what he was looking for.
“I must be on my way,” Rex said, releasing her, much to her cousin’s clear relief. “Perhaps our paths will cross again, and I can claim a dance.” He grinned at Arabella.
“I would enjoy that, my lord,” she replied mischievously. The sidelong glance she gave her husband said very clearly she was more interested in his reaction to the invitation than to the dance itself.
Hood gave Rex a short, sharp nod and quickly walked off, pulling the ladies along with him. Already moving on, eyes raking over the options before him, Rex didn’t notice Miss Wilson looking over her shoulder. He did, however, see Lucas standing by the refreshments table with Conyngham, and he changed tack to join them.
“I did not know either of you would be here tonight,” he said after greeting them.
Conyngham shrugged. “My mother likes me to do the pretty now and then. I have found it is easier to placate her with my presence at a few of the more significant events. Besides, Hartington and I have a wager going this Season. We are looking for a likely candidate for our attentions.”
The ruthlessly cheerful smile on his face promised some form of seductive mayhem. If Rex didn’t have his own agenda to pursue, he was sure he would have enjoyed watching the two compete. Perhaps he could find the time once he found the candidate for his own mission.
“What about you?” he asked Lucas, who had been the real target of his question, although he had been somewhat curious about Conyngham. Conyngham attended ton events semi-regularly, whereas Lucas almost never did and was much more inclined to spend his evenings among the demimonde or the clubs. Lucas’ parents had passed on many years ago, and his aunt did nothing to push him toward matrimony, seemingly having hopes her own son would one day inherit the earldom. So far, nothing Lucas had said indicated he had any expectation of providing his own heir.
The sound of violins floated through the air. Lucas shrugged one shoulder, his eyes on the ton lining up for the first dance of the evening.
“I had nothing better to do,” Lucas said, seemingly as disinterested in conversation as he was in the ball. “Knew you and Conyngham would be here… and there is a card room.” He tacked on that last as an afterthought. Rex grimaced, but he could not say anything, not in front of Conyngham. He would not embarrass his friend like that but made a mental note to keep an eye on Lucas if he headed in that direction.
Lucas loved the cards, but the cards did not often love him. Rex had often intervened and paid Lucas’ debts more times than he could count. It was wearing and was, by far, the largest strain on their friendship.
“I suppose I should ask someone to dance,” Rex murmured, casting his gaze over the room and feeling very tired. To his amusement, the observation stirred Lucas.
“Still looking for that wild bride?” Lucas grinned, straightening up to a more alert posture. “Perhaps I can help you look for a bit.”
“Oh?” Rex was bemused, but he would rather Lucas maneuver through matrimonial options with him than disappear into the cardroom.
“I will leave you to it then,” Conyngham said, giving them a salute. “I have my own quarry to find.”
They sent him off with their good wishes, then Lucas began to make his way to the back of the room.
“The French delegation arrived half an hour ago,” he said. “Very pretty ladies they have with them this year.”
“Are any of them unwed?” Rex asked, slightly amused and vaguely frustrated. While it was not impossible, an envoy might have brought his daughter along with him to look for an English husband, he didn’t know how likely it was.
“Let us find out.” Lucas grinned widely, eyes alight with anticipation.
Well, Rex supposed it could not hurt to introduce himself. Especially if it would keep Lucas away from the card room.
Chapter 4
Mary
In the dense crush of people attending the Richmonds’ ball, Mary’s short stature became an advantage.
Aunt Elizabeth had settled in for a good gossip with her friend, Lady Walsh, directing Thomas to promenade with Arabella and Mary, so they could look over this year’s gentlemen. While there were many returning possibilities, there were also many newcomers to the marriage mart, come in from the country or finally rising out of the shadows of London, bowing to the inevitability of finding a suitable bride.
While Thomas was certainly accomplished as a chaperone, he clearly thought Arabella was the likelier troublemaker, focusing most of his attention on her. When Lord Herschel trod on her flounce, tearing it, and Arabella turned to rip up at him, Thomas was there to stymy her—releasing Mary’s hold on his arm. It was that easy to slip behind the large frame of the gentleman standing just to the side of her and disappear into the crowd.
As short as she was, neither Arabella nor Thomas should be able to easily spot her once she was away from them, and therefore, they could not expect her to see them. They would expect her to make her way back to Aunt Elizabeth, and she would… eventually.
First, though, Mary made her way up to the second floor, where there a gallery overlooked the ballroom. She was far from the only person looking down at the crowd, and she could certainly move about more freely. Half-hidden behind one of the columns, she was able to see everything and everyone below. It appeared Thomas and Arabella were now arguing, and she had to wonder if they had even noticed her absence. Reminding herself it was a boon they so easily forgot her, she kept looking for familiar faces.
Ah! There were Josie and Lily on the far side of the room, standing in a circle of admirers, perhaps… but no. She spotted Hartford talking with the French delegation. Seeking out her friends would have to wait. He was speaking with the French, and Evie had her suspicions of them.
There were quite a few pretty ladies in the group, and Mary had to push away the little claws of jealousy digging into her chest when Hartford smiled down at the dark-haired beauty he was speaking to. He had looked that way at Mary when he was bowing over her hand, and it hadn’t meant a thing.
Which was good, she reminded herself.
She needed to stop mooning over Hartford like a lovesick schoolgirl, just because he made her tingle and the skin on the back of her hand still felt warm from where his lips had pressed against her glove. While Mary was not a completely innocent young miss, thanks to Evie’s explanations since she actually was experienced in such matters, Mary dismissed her body’s reaction as the result of having a practiced rake focus on her. Any other rake would likely have the same effect if another ever chose to target her with his attentions. Hartford was nothing special. He was…