Page 34 of The Notorious Lord Sin
Paris touched Dominic's arm, halting his words. She had long learned to defend herself, and she certainly did not need a man to speak for her. She stepped close to the dowager so only she could hear. "I did not think we ever had a falling-in." Paris smiled, sipping her drink before pushing past the dowager, not caring that she knocked into her shoulder.
She made her way over to Millie, needing sane, kind conversation for several minutes. Dominic could deal with his mother. She no longer had time for her.
Nor would it seem the more time she spent in society that she could mind her manners, even to matrons of thetonsuch as Lady Astoridge. She could not respect anyone who did not respect her in return. Dominic's family or no.
ChapterNineteen
Dominic sighed as Paris turned up her nose at his mother and left them to speak to the Duchess of Romney.
He could not blame her. His mother was a termagant and a person that he, too, grew tired of when having to spend a prolonged period of time with. That he had lived abroad and should be happy to see her again had been short-lived. She was as opinionated and cutting as ever, and he feared she would never change.
Certainly not toward Paris.
"You cannot speak to Lady Hervey the way that you are. She is highly respected and liked in London. Not to mention that I like her also. You are only causing harm to myself and my sisters."
His mother scoffed at his words, her face pinched with dislike for the countess. "Like I need her, the little nobody, to help my family. We are wealthier and more powerful than the Hervey line. They may have the earldom, but our viscountcy goes back hundreds of years further than theirs, and we all know that the second earl only got his title because he was the king's second cousin."
Dominic sighed and debated telling his mother that the money was gone. That she ought to want people such as Lady Hervey's help in gaining her daughters a good match. Other than their sweet faces and characters, they had little to recommend them.
They both needed to marry rich men who did not care for a dowry. A rare man indeed in London society.
"I heard a rumor, and I must ask you of it," his mother said, watching him.
He had also heard the rumor and did not care for it. And he certainly did not want to speak to his mother regarding it. "What is the lateston dityou wish to speak of?" he asked anyway, hoping that it may be different.
"That you have romantic connotations toward Miss Smith?" she whispered, spitting Paris's name like it was mud in her mouth.
He ground his teeth, praying for patience. "I do not see how that is anyone's business but my own. It would help if you did not listen to gossip. It's beneath you."
"And yet you do not deny it." Her pinched mouth told him she was fighting to control her ire. The woman was easier to read than a book, and taking in the room, several guests had become interested in their conversation.
He shrugged. "I hate to tell you this, Mother, but I'm not a child. I may choose whom I see both on a friendly or romantic level."
She poked him in the chest, her nail poking his skin. "I will never accept her into the family, or her children. Do not travel that path again, Dominic. I will not care for it." His mother spied someone she knew, and her face burst into a wide smile, altering her visage from foe to friend in an instant. So changeable, such a bitter woman. He wondered, watching her move toward her friend, how she had come to be the way she was. He caught sight of his sisters and was glad that they had not grown into being like their parents, even with his absence. Their Season would have been a disaster then and a complete failure. No one wanted a virago, and certainly not one as a wife.
Paris stood at the doors to the Craig's town house and waited for her carriage to arrive. She had sent a missive via a footman to her home to send for her equipage.
The night had turned chill, and she huddled into her cloak as the sound of clipping horse's hooves on the cobbled road sounded nearby. Hopefully, it would be her carriage.
Thankfully the vehicle turned toward the house, and she prepared to return home. She needed her bed. The night had been tiring, pleasant, and equally maddening with Lord Astoridge's horrible mama in attendance.
A warm, large hand pressed against her hip before a deep baritone whispered in her ear, "Let me escort you home."
She glanced at Dominic as the carriage rocked to a halt before them, and a footman opened the door, letting down the steps. "Very well," she said, wanting to be alone with him, have him near her, comfort her after the trying night.
Taking hold of the footman's hand, she stepped into the carriage, and Dominic followed her. The footman closed the door, and they were soon ensconced in the darkened space.
"Drive around for a time," he yelled out, meeting her eyes through the shadowed carriage, a wicked light burning in his.
She shivered at the thought of what he had in mind. She had never done anything in a carriage other than travel from one point to another, but something in his unscrupulous gaze told her he had other plans for them.
"I'm sorry about my mother. Again," he said.
She waved his concerns aside. Not wanting to speak of the woman anymore. She was a waste of one's breath, in Paris's opinion. "I do not want to talk of your mother," she said, the need growing within her, removing all thought of anything else but him.
His lips twitched before he quickly untied the carriage blinds, letting them drop shut, enclosing them further into darkness.
"What would you like to speak of?" he asked her, leaning back on the squabs.
