Page 55 of Saving a Scoundrel
Hartwick took a drag from his cheroot. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we?”
Lucius pushed away from the stone balustrade he’d been leaning against and turned to gaze out into the shadowy gardens. Tonight the evening air was warm, and crickets sang a sad song from the darkness. Inside, the Earl and Countess of Latham’s ball was in full swing. Just another party. Same as every other.
“Easy for you to say, Your Grace.”
“Miss Macdougal is not the only heiress in London. There are scads, and most with better pedigrees.”
Lucius knew this, and the only reason he had considered marrying Katy Macdougal was because of the prospect of being part of the brewery, part of Mac’s family. He couldn’t tell Hart that it wasn’t about losing the girl at least not about losing Miss Macdougal. That his sullen mood was about realizing he had nothing to offer to the women he loved.
Lucius had gone to work today to apologize for missing dinner last night and Mac had gently told him that Katy had run off with Lord Haverty. The worst part of the whole fucking thing had been Mac’s kindness. He’d clapped a hand on Lucius’s shoulder and said, “Son, I’m truly sorry. The girl and her mother were conspiring to get her a title.” He’d snorted. “What’s a title worth when the man’s not even gentleman enough to come ask her father for permission? The bloody nob is a thief, I tell you, absconding with my Katy,” he’d boomed.
Lucius took another swallow of brandy. Turning back to Hartwick, he said, “Let’s go inside. I need to check on Miss Spencer and make sure Comstock and Quincy are keeping away from her. Stupid bet…” He shoved the flask at his friend.
When he entered the ballroom, the heat and the smell of overly perfumed bodies smacked him in the face and made his stomach roil. The brandy sloshed around in warning. He breathed out his nose slowly and regained some of his equilibrium. Scanning the room for Ellie, he instead saw Rosemary glaring at him from nearby, her husband at her side.
Lucius turned his gaze to the dance floor but couldn’t spot Ellie. Then he saw her, on the opposite side of the room, she stood talking with Quincy and two other ladies he didn’t recognize. That won’t do. He was about to intervene when he spotted Lord Kentwood standing nearby. He called out. “Kentwood.”
Alex Kentwood strolled over. “Grisham. Your Grace.” He nodded politely.
“Do me a favor, and I’ll forget about that fifty quid you owe me.”
Kentwood’s eyes widened. An inveterate gambler, he owed money to just about every member at Brook’s. “What sort of favor?”
“You see that girl over there?” Lucius pointed to Ellie. “The blonde speaking with Quincy? Go over and ask her to dance for the supper waltz.”
“That’s it?”
Lucius nodded. “That’s it.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Kentwood left to make his way around the dance floor to Ellie.
“What was that about?” Hartwick asked.
“Number seven on her list. Dance the waltz with a handsome stranger.” Lucius shrugged.
He watched with some satisfaction at Quincy’s sour face as Kentwood butted into their conversation. Kentwood made quick work of stealing Ellie away for the dance. Lucius chuckled at Quincy’s frown. Then he turned his attention to Ellie. Her blonde hair glowed gold in the candlelight. She smiled brightly at her partner as he twirled her around the floor. Ellie loved to dance more than any girl he’d known. She and Charlotte had roped him to being their dance partner dozens of times when they were young. He’d always rolled his eyes and dragged his feet, but that was just for show; in reality, he had always enjoyed the laughter and dancing. Kentwood and Ellie swung past, making a wide arc across the floor.
If she were his, he would dance with her every day. Twirl her around the garden. Sashay her down the hallway to their bedroom every night. He winced. Don’t be ridiculous, what house? What garden? Why was he dreaming about a life he couldn’t provide, a girl that was far too good for him? An accountant for an underworld boss, an apprentice to a brewer, a whore. She deserved someone a good deal better than him.
He forced himself to turn away. “I think I’ll find a quiet spot to go lick my wounds. Preferably with a bottle of brandy.”
Hartwick joined him, and they walked out of the ballroom. “Go to the library. It’s just down there.” The duke pointed to the left. “I’ll get us a bottle.”
Lucius gave a mock salute and wandered down to the library. It was dark and cool, with the moonlight shining in through the open windows. He didn’t light any candles; he’d let Hart bother with that when he came back. Lucius plopped down into a chair and propped his feet up on the table. Perhaps he should have joined the clergy as his father had suggested many years ago. Then he could have been Mr. Evans, marrying the prettiest girl in Marbury.
*
Ellie gave acurtsy to Lord Kentwood. “Thank you, sir, for the lovely dance.”
He bowed. “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Spencer.”
The Duke of Hartwick appeared from behind Kentwood. His expression was grim. He jerked his head at the other man, and Lord Kentwood walked away. “I must speak with you, Miss Spencer. Come with me.”
Slightly startled, Ellie let herself be led from the dance floor by Lord Hartwick. The man commanded the room. The crowded ballroom seemed to part for him like the Red Sea for Moses. They stopped just inside the doors to the hall, and Hartwick turned to her. “Mr. Grisham needs you.”
“Why? What’s happened?” she asked. She had seen Lucius from across the room earlier, and he had looked unharmed and as handsome as ever.
“Miss Macdougal ran off to Scotland to marry that fool Haverty. Macdougal told Lucius this afternoon, and he has been a mess ever since. Perhaps you would talk to him? He thinks it’s a direct reflection on him instead of just the foolishness of some chit. He’ll listen to you.”
