Page 12 of Saving a Scoundrel
A strange gleamof determination flared in Ellie’s eyes. She tugged him to the edge of the dance floor with a firm grip on his hand. Lucius swore he heard her mumble, “No more hiding.” The set ended, and the music shifted, a waltz. Ellie lifted her eyes to his, her face alight with enthusiasm. There was nothing to do but take her into his arms. As he guided them in the first turn around the floor, he couldn’t help but enjoy the way she fit just right. He wasn’t particularly tall, and still, the top of Ellie’s head hit him right at his jaw. Her hair smelled like cake fresh from the oven.How is that possible?He allowed himself one deep inhale before pulling back a little.
She tilted her head back. “I won’t object if you want to hold me closer. I’ve never danced the waltz before, and I’d like to have the full experience, please,” she asked primly.
“Your wish is my command.” He pulled her closer but not close enough to have eyes glancing their way. “Miss Spencer, are you trying to lead me to ruin?”
She giggled. “Well, this is my year for new adventures. Perhaps I should addlead a scoundrel to ruinto my list.”
“Your list?”
Ellie’s cheeks flushed a most attractive pink. She bit her bottom lip. “I made a list after the funeral last December. A list of all the things I’d like to do in 1825. Like, come to London.”
Rivenhall’s death had been hard for all of them. Lucius had also thought a lot about the direction of his life in the last six months. He had spent the last year just surviving. Using his charm to get by. But it was hardly a plan for his future. They twirled around the bottom half of the room, and Lucius caught a glance of Rosemary standing with two other ladies. Her face was a thundercloud as she watched him dance with Ellie.
Turning his attention to the woman in his arms, he asked, “What else is on your list?”
“None of your business. It’s still a work in progress. Perhaps I will add some wicked deeds to it.”
He didn’t believe a word of that. Once a good girl, always a good girl. Just like his sister, Eleanor Spencer was as wholesome as one could get. Neither of the ladies could conceive of doing the wrong thing. It was one of the things he liked best about them. London was a cesspool of vice. He’d spent far too many years exploring all that those vices offered, which is precisely why he should make his own list. One that would itemize steps to move him to a future self that he could be proud of.
The music ended, and Lucius twirled Ellie under his arm in a last flourish. Her eyes sparkled, the unusual violet of her irises clear as an amethyst gemstone. She glanced around the room as she clapped along with everyone else. Flushed from dancing and pretty as a picture, Lucius felt a strange tug deep in his gut. Had she always glowed like this?
She put a hand on his sleeve, and he escorted her back to the side of the ballroom. He was just about to offer to get her some punch like some damn swain when Lord Bixby appeared and asked her to dance. Without hesitation, Eleanor accepted. He whisked her away to join a reel.
Bixby was a damn stiff on the dance floor, but if Ellie noticed, she didn’t let her disappointment show. Instead, she smiled at her partner as they wound their way down the line. With a hand at her waist, Bixby leaned in and said something in her ear, causing her to laugh. Lucius clenched his jaw. He wondered if dancing with a total buffoon was on her damn list.
He glanced around the room, hoping to find where Rosemary had ended up. He owed her a dance. Instead, he saw Hart stumble along the edge of the dance floor. The duke ran into a couple in motion, sending them stumbling as well. Bloody hell, it was past time to get his friend out of the ballroom and into a carriage home.
Chapter Eight
“Bollocks!” Comstock threwhis cards down onto the green felt. “How the deuce does he play so well whilst stinking drunk?”
Hartwick raised his glass of beer with a mocking salute.
Lucius chuckled. “Luck runs through his veins. That’s why I always partner with Hart. You’d be a fool to play against him.” He and Hartwick had won a tidy sum playing piquet tonight. He might finally be able to pay off his bill at the tailor’s come morning.
The Termage’s floor manager, Simon Mercer, stopped at the table. “How’s the play tonight, gents?”
“Excellent,” Lucius replied. “For some of us anyway.”
Comstock slid down in his chair and sipped his glass of wine. Quincy didn’t look any happier about losing.
“How about another round of drinks? On the house.” Mercer called over one of the serving girls with a wave of his hand. “Abigail, these gentlemen need another round.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried off. Mercer moved to check on the play at the next table.
Quincy’s head craned to follow Abigail’s path across the room to the long expansive bar. “I’d like to take a long drink from her instead of another bloody whiskey.”
They had left the Ponsonby ball early and ended up at the Termage to play cards. This suited Lucius just fine. He had an appointment next door in half an hour. He was just about to collect his winnings and excuse himself when Danvers strolled up to their table.
“Hello, boys, what are we playing?” Danvers sat in an empty chair. “I finally tucked my sister into a carriage for home.”
Hartwick shook his head. “That right there is the problem with having sisters.”
“How would you know? You don’t have any siblings,” Danvers scoffed.
“I have a Lucy. Jus’ as bad.” Hartwick gulped from his glass of beer.
“I have a sister. And it’s not as bad as all that,” Lucius said.
