A group of men strolled past.
“Chastity—” Lucy began.
“It is my responsibility to keep you from harm,” her sister cut in.
“Quinn will not harm Lady Lucy,” Sir Stirling said. “He knows how to be a gentleman.”
“Not according to the papers,” Chastity said, and Sir Stirling lifted a brow that said, ‘Only silly females believe everything they read in gossip columns.’
Tears burned the corners of Lucy’s eyes. Things were not going at all as she’d hoped. She looked from Chastity to the baron. “Oh, Chastity.” Lucy turned and fled.
“Damn,” Stirling cursed.
Chastity started after her, but he seized her arm.
“Let me go,” she ordered.
“Not just yet, my lady.” He looked at the baron. “Quinn, go after her. Get her some champagne—” Chastity opened her mouth to object, but he said, “One glass only, and do not leave the party. Do you understand?”
Quinn angled his head, then addressed Chastity, “I may be a rake, ma’am, but I do not seduce maidens.” He slanted his gaze onto Stirling. “She is very young, is she not?”
“As are you, lad. Now go after her.”
“I will go,” Chastity growled. “Release me.” She tried to pull free, but he held tight.
The baron hurried after Lucy and Stirling turned hard eyes onto her.
Chapter Four
The last thing Quinn had planned on doing was to chase after a virgin. He’d known Stirling would try to match him with a respectable woman, but a maiden? She was beautiful. But, as he’d told her sister, he didn’t seduce innocents—nor would he marry one. Stirling would have to understand.
Quinn caught up with Lucy halfway around the dancefloor. “Lady Lucy,” he said as he fell into step alongside her.
“Is that Quinn Ramsey?”
Quinn would have preferred to keep going, but he knew that voice. He grasped Lady Lucy’s arm and stopped. “Lady Belmont.” He nodded at the small woman who squinted at him.
“Haven’t see you in some time," she said. “I didn’t know that you were acquainted with Lady Lucy.”
Heaven help her. Given a choice, Lucy would have avoided Lady Belmont. The woman was a self-appointed crusader. “Indeed, ma’am, we are acquainted through Sir Stirling, who introduced us just this evening.”
The older woman’s mouth thinned in disapproval.
“We must hurry to make the dance, my lady.”
The baron held out his hand and Lucy was forced to place her hand on his or risk the ire of the old biddy. Quinn smiled at the woman, then led Lucy toward the dancefloor. They reached the edge of the dancers. He pulled her close and stepped into the rhythm of the music. She started at the warmth of his arms around her waist. They danced so close…
“Your sister isn't pleased with our match," the baron said.
Lucy started from her thoughts. The man was straightforward. "Nae, she isn’t. You must understand, she is very protective of my sisters and me. She is right, you know. You do have a terrible reputation.”
She spoke without rancor, and he couldn’t get angry. Most women either condemned him for his reputation or wanted to partake of his…talents.
“Forgive me for asking, sir, but why did you agree to marry me? We have never met. For all you knew, you might have gotten—” She broke off. Lord help her, she was as bad as Jessica.
A corner of his mouth twitched and she was surprised when her heart fluttered. “I could have gotten a younger version of Lady Belmont?” he finished for her.
She knew better, but couldn’t help a smile. “You are a rogue, sir.”
“Guilty as charged.”
She studied his face. “You do not care that others brand you a rake?”
“Are you bothered by the fact it is true?” he countered.
“I cannot say,” she replied before considering if the answer was correct.
He laughed. “Then you are a most unusual husband-hunting female.”
“I beg your pardon. I am not husband-hunting.”
He raised a brow. “Nae? You attended this ball looking for a husband.”
“A husband, as in, you?” she replied with amusement.
By God, the lass was laughing at him.
His attention snagged on her eyes. He couldn’t remember seeing eyes so blue.
“You think well of yourself, sir,” she said.
He flashed a smile. “Why not? I am, after all, a rogue.”
“Oh, indeed you are,” she rejoined, and he realized she wasn’t impressed.
“I haven’t tried to seduce you,” he said. And was started by the yet that sprang to mind.
“My lord, I am not so addle-headed that I cannot see that you are trying to charm me, even now.”
He whirled her in a tight turn, hugging her close. She tightened her fingers on his shoulder. Her pulse jumped at the press of his firm thighs against her legs. Chastity was right. The dance was indecent. For an instant, the room spun and the rainbow light from the chandelier crystals swooped in on her, again making her lightheaded, but Quinn slowed with the music, and the disorientation passed. His face came into focus and she found him staring down at her.
“You have not yet had a season,” he said.
Her face heated. “No,” she replied.
“Why, then, would you agree to marry me?”
Thankfully, the music ended, and she was saved from answering his uncomfortable question. He slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and led her from the dancefloor.
“Shall we have that glass of champagne?” he asked.
“If you wish.”
A moment later, they entered the refreshments room. He seated her near the wall where a semi-circle of couches had been arranged for the comfort of matrons and dance-weary guests, then headed for the table laden with festive food and drink. Lucy told herself it was impolite to stare, but she couldn’t help but follow his progress across the room. She’d read about the Devil of Delny in the gossip columns, but she’d never seen him. He was as handsome as the devil was wicked, and was probably just as devilish. She had no doubt he deserved the reputation the papers credited him with. The smile he’d flashed on the dancefloor had melted her insides, and she’d feared he would recognize the affect he had on her. She had hoped to like the man chosen for her; she’d never dreamed he would make her weak-kneed with a mere look
He reached the table and reached for two glasses of champagne. A woman at least twice his age stepped up beside him and—oh! Lucy’s face burned. The woman brushed her breast against his arm. Lucy glanced around, certain everyone in the room would be staring. But they went about their business as if nothing had happened. Perhaps they hadn’t noticed. The woman leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He stilled. Lucy watched as he shifted and his profile faced her.
His mouth was a bare inch from the woman’s. She looked up at him. Lucy couldn’t see her eyes, but she saw Quinn’s mouth quirk. He said something, then turned toward her. Lucy yanked her gaze to her hands, then stared at the carpet. Her heart pounded. From the corner of her eye, she saw him approach and looked up as he reached her. Lucy accepted the champagne he held out as he settled onto the small couch beside her. She sipped.
“What is this business about Stirling marrying you off in order to wed your sister?” he asked.
Lucy choked on her champagne. The baron shifted so he faced her and patted her back several times. She held up a hand and he stopped. Slowly, she took a deep breath as her throat cleared.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”
She hadn’t considered that the gentleman Sir Stirling chose for her wouldn’t know of the agreement between him and their father.
“I am surprised Sir Stirling didn’t tell you about the arrangement,” she said.
He laughed. To her chagrin, her face heated at the deep vibran
cy of his laugh.
“Stirling is fond of keeping secrets,” he said.
Lucy looked at him. “Do you know him well?”
Did he know him well? Stirling was the only brother he’d ever known, and he hadn’t abandoned Quinn when it would have been easy to do so. Quinn released a breath, then took a drink of champagne before meeting her eyes. His breath caught. Head tilted to the side, Lucy looked at him through thick, dark blonde lashes. Many a woman had looked up at him through their lashes—just as Eleanor had a moment ago—but he’d never seen eyes as penetrating as Lucy’s. The unexpected desire to kiss her brought his gaze to her mouth—full, beautifully curved lips. He saw himself lowering he head until—
“My lord.”
Quinn jerked his gaze up to her eyes. “What?”
She frowned. “Are you unwell?”
His heart pounded. Yes, he was unwell, but the affliction couldn’t be cured by a doctor. “I am fine. So, tell me more of this arrangement between your sister and Stirling.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t between he and my sister, but between our father and him.”
The baron frowned. “Who is your father?”
“The Duke of Roxburgh.”
“The devil you say?” He laughed. “By God, I should have known. Your sister will inherit the title, correct?”
It was true. They’d all grown up knowing Chastity would carry on the title through her husband. But when Baron Delny said it aloud, Lucy suddenly realized she wasn't keen on marrying a stranger who had agreed to wed her in order to fulfill a quota for her future brother-in-law.
"Why would you agree to this marriage?" she asked. He hesitated, and understanding dawned. “You didn’t agree.” Her heart fell. He knew nothing about their marriage arrangement.
***
“Take your hands off me,” Chastity said through gritted teeth.
Sir Stirling ignored her and, his iron grip on her elbow, continued his walk. They neared the open balcony doors and she realized his intent. “I do not want to go outside with you.”
He kept going. They left the room and she thought he would stop, but he continued across the balcony and down the stairs.
She tried to pull free. “I beg your pardon. I do not go into gardens with strange men.”
They reached the edge of the lawn.
“We should not be out here alone.”
He halted just beyond the lights that spilled from the mansion and released her. Cool night air washed over her heated face. Chastity caught a whiff of sandalwood as she rounded on him. “See here, sir, I am not accustomed to—”
“Enjoying the gardens at night with a man?” His teeth flashed white in the pale moonlight. “We have no’ had a chance to get to know one another, my lady, so I will forgive your lack of faith in me.”
Chastity blinked. “For-forgive my lack of faith in you?” She couldn’t believe his audacity. “How kind of you.”
“It is.” His smile broadened.
“You allow my sister to go off with that rake, then handle me roughly and force me into the privacy of the gardens with you.”
She heaved with anger, and he couldn’t help but notice the color in her cheeks. He also didn’t miss the agitated rise and fall of her breasts. She was beautiful when she was angry.
“Would you rather have this discussion inside, where everyone can eavesdrop?”
His mild tone infuriated her. “I wouldn’t be angry if you hadn’t allowed that ruffian to go off with my sister.”
“Ruffian, is it now?” He laughed. “Quinn is young and, like many of us when young—both men and women—he can be a little wild. But a ruffian? Nae.”
“A little wild?” Her voice rose. “Two weeks ago, he attended the opera with a courtesan—and they were caught in his box in an unseemly position.”
“Come, Chastity, you are an intelligent woman.” He paused as a rabbit bolted across the path. “You know that not everything in print is true.”
“You deny that he was caught with that woman in a compromising situation?” she demanded.
“Compromising?” he said. “A woman would have to be an innocent to be compromised. What is the harm in a man who isn’t married seeking the company of a woman who isn’t married?”
“It is one thing to fraternize with a woman like that. Quite another to make love to her in public. He is young and reckless.”
Stirling could imagine what she would think of the two Spanish actresses he and Quinn had met last month. Thankfully, such shenanigans weren’t newsworthy enough for travel from Spain to Scotland.
“Quinn is young,” Stirling said. “Reckless? Nae. He runs his estate quite well. He can provide comfortably for Lucy.”
Chastity stared. “You truly are mad.”
He regarded her and, to her horror, her face began to heat.
“Who would you have chosen for her?” he asked in an indulgent voice. “Someone like Lord Hathaway?”
She gave an impatient shake of her head. “Of course not.”
There,” he said soothingly. “You agree. Quinn is young, strong, intelligent and well heeled. He will suit your sister well.”
The man was impossible. “I will not agree to the match.”
“Does that mean you will not be attending the wedding?”
“Are you insane? There will be no wedding.”
“Your father thinks otherwise. That is why he obtained a special license.”
Chapter Five
Quinn led Lucy back into the ballroom.
“I must find Chastity. She will be worried.”
“Of course,” Quinn replied. The mama lioness would tear him limb from limb if he didn’t deliver the cub back intact. It seemed the guests had doubled in number while he and Lucy sat at refreshments. Finding Lady Chastity would take some time.
“There you are, Lucy.” A stout woman in her late fifties hurried toward them.
“Lady Crawford,” Lucy greeted their hostess when she reached them.
“I am so glad I found you, my dear.” The older woman smiled at him. “It is good to see you, Ramsey.”
“And you, my lady.” He bowed, took her hand, and pressed his lips to her gloved fingers.
“You rogue, I am no longer young,” she said with an irrepressible twinkle, “so, you need not waste your charms on me.”
He straightened, still grasping her hand. “What ill luck for me,” he murmured.
Lucy hid a smile. The man simply couldn’t help himself.
He released Lady Crawford and she gave his arm a teasing swat. “There is a reason I buried two husbands, my boy. Give thanks I am too old for you.”
The baron burst out laughing. “My lady, you are a pleasure.”
“I am,” she agreed. “But enough of that.” She lifted her left hand and held out a dance card. “Lucy, this is your dance card. Sir Stirling told me that Baron Delny would claim your first dance—which I see he did.” She bent close and said in a loud whisper clearly meant to be overheard, “Sir Stirling wanted Ramsey to have the next two dances, but I told him that would not do.” She looked at the baron. “You may claim Lady Lucy’s fifth dance, sir.”
“Fifth dance?” he blurted.
Lady Crawford gave him a knowing look. “Do not worry, young sir, your name is written on the fifth placement of the card. But no more than that, for you know to dance more than two dances with a lady is all but a declaration of marriage—and you wouldn’t want to tarnish a lady’s reputation while at my party.”
Quinn was left no choice but to stare after them as Lady Crawford entwined her arm with Lucy’s and led her away. He hadn’t planned on claiming any more of her dances, but the words, “You may claim Lady Lucy’s fifth dance, sir,” caused frustration to well up. Lucy was to dance three dances with other men? What the devil? Stirling had made it painfully clear that he was to marry the lass. Why let her dance with other men if she was to marry him?
The two women disappeared beyond a group of men. What did he care
if she danced with a different man every dance until she was eighty? Maybe Stirling had been bluffing when he swore to tie up Quinn’s money if he didn’t wed the girl. That threat hadn’t moved Quinn as much as the disappointment he’d sensed behind the words. Stirling was one of the finest businessmen in all of Scotland. He knew how to bluff. Would he do that to Quinn? Quinn whirled and headed back to the refreshments room. He needed more champagne.
Three glasses of champagne and two dances later, Quinn found a dance partner whose card wasn’t filled. A woman of twenty-two years, who looked at him with such awe that he wanted to ask her if she’d ever danced before. They joined the cotillion set on the farthest side of the dancefloor, where Lucy and her partner waited in their places. Quinn grasped his partner’s hand, bowed to her as she did him, then they joined their set and began turning in a circle. Earlier, he’d located Lucy on the dancefloor. For her second dance, she’d been paired with a tall, lanky man that Quinn didn’t recognize. His movements were uncoordinated, and Quinn felt certain that she breathed a prayer of gratitude when the dance ended.
Her third partner had no better grace. Her current partner, Viscount Seton, however, was another story. Might the nearly bankrupt viscount set his sights on a duke’s youngest daughter? Quinn had never liked either Seton or his father.
The couples broke from the circle and switched partners, catching each other’s hands behind the other’s backs. Quinn glimpsed the way Viscount Seton brushed Lucy’s shoulder with his as he passed to his next partner. That kind of contact was unnecessary in a cotillion. They switched again, until Quinn partnered with Lucy.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, my lady.” He looked down at her.
She smiled with what he was certain was the same smile she’d given Seton. “It is a nice party.”
“One would think that a lady who came to a party to meet her betrothed wouldn’t be so friendly with other men,” Quinn whispered.
Her head snapped up and she blinked, shock on her face. He knew how she felt. He released her and grasped the next woman’s hand and turned with her, then rejoined his original partner. The dance seemed to go on forever, and when he was partnered with Lucy again, she remained silent, as did he. He half wished for another waltz, where he might forget the rest of the dancers and pull her as close as he had their first dance.
Scandalous Lords and Courtship Page 66
