A Season of Ruin

by Anna Bradley

  Charlotte’s face colored angrily, but Lily gave her a tiny frown and made a subtle gesture with her chin toward the dance floor to indicate Charlotte should dance with him. She could hardly refuse him, after all. It wasn’t proper.

  The evening had gone from bad to worse after that. The other gentlemen followed Lord Atherton’s example, and Lily hadn’t left Lady Catherine’s side all night.

  Just then Eleanor’s partner delivered her back to Lady Catherine and ambled off to fetch her a glass of lemonade, leaving the three ladies alone.

  Ellie’s eyes sparkled and her cheeks were pink from her exertions on the dance floor. “My goodness! It’s very warm in here, isn’t it?”

  Lily ran her hands up and down her bare arms. “Is it warm?”

  The sparkle in Ellie’s dark eyes dimmed. “Robyn hasn’t arrived.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Lady Catherine shook her head. “No, he hasn’t, and it’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  Eleanor wrung her hands. “The doors at Almack’s close at eleven. No one, not even the Duke of Wellington himself, is permitted to enter the ballroom once the doors are closed.”

  Lily jerked her chin a notch higher. She didn’t need the Duke of Wellington, and she didn’t need Robyn Sutherland, either.

  He could spend the rest of the season chasing Lady Downes around every desk in every study in every town house in London. Delia had asked her to give Robyn a chance and she’d done so, just as she promised she would.

  Now she was free to pursue her own ends. She needed a new plan, and once she got through this miserable evening, she’d devise one guaranteed to deliver the desired result.

  One that didn’t include Robyn Sutherland.

  * * *

  “Damn it, Sutherland! Hold ’er steady, will you?”

  “She’s as steady as she’s going to get.” The trouble was the rest of the room had gone atilt. “Stop blathering, Pelkey, and take your turn, or give someone else a go.”

  Lord Pelkey placed the end of his cravat between his teeth and leaned over the barmaid who squirmed in Robyn’s lap, one of her plump legs extended, her skirts pulled to mid-thigh.

  Pelkey took his time perfecting his position, for despite Robyn’s threat, Archie wasn’t in any condition to take a turn. He hadn’t yet surrendered to unconsciousness, but it was a near thing. His lay with his head on the table, his eyes fixed on the barmaid’s lifted skirts. He didn’t seem to be aware of much else.

  “Come now, sweetheart,” Lord Pelkey coaxed through a mouthful of starched linen. “Stay still, won’t you?”

  The barmaid gave a shrill laugh. “Go on, then, guv. Do it!”

  It was both disturbing and fascinating, watching Pelkey twist this way and that in an effort to wrap the whole length of the cravat around the barmaid’s leg with just his teeth. At one point his head was entirely engulfed by her skirts.

  Which was rather the point, Robyn supposed.

  Finally Pelkey crawled out from underneath the barmaid. He slapped the girl on her fleshy thigh. “Got it! You owe me five guineas, Sutherland.”

  Robyn would gladly have paid Pelkey the five guineas just to get the barmaid off his lap. Mary’s generous bulk didn’t do a thing for him, aside from cut off the blood circulating to his legs.

  Or was her name Molly? He couldn’t remember.

  He also couldn’t remember quite what he was doing in London’s west end, drinking himself into a stupor with Pelkey. He hadn’t intended to end up here; that much was certain. They’d started at White’s, hadn’t they?

  Lord Pelkey dropped into a chair, grasped the barmaid’s hand, and drew her off Robyn’s lap and onto his own. “Can’t think why you’d want the damn voucher to Almack’s, Sutherland. Nothing but debutantes there.”

  Ah, now he remembered. Of course. Almack’s. London’s great monument to vanity and social ambition. He’d promised to get Lily a voucher to Almack’s.

  Well, he’d got the voucher, and now he’d be rewarded for his good deed with another evening of watching Pelkey grope some giggling barmaid. Even bloody Almack’s would be more entertaining than this.

  Pelkey ran a hand comfortably up Mary’s calf and under her skirts. “Debutantes and chastity, that is.” He shuddered, as if chastity were a filthy word.

  Robyn watched in distaste as Pelkey’s other hand settled on Molly’s arse. “Perhaps I find chastity titillating.”

  Why not? He’d tried everything else.

  Pelkey snorted. “Doubtful. What’s the real reason, Sutherland? Thinking of marrying, are you? Want to inspect this season’s goods?”

  “The voucher isn’t for me.”

  “Who then? One of your mistresses? Be funny, that, a bird of paradise flaunting her feathers at Almack’s. I’d even turn up there myself to see it.” Pelkey guffawed with such feeling, Molly nearly toppled off his lap.

  Robyn sighed. Pelkey was a revolting enough specimen, but he had his uses. One couldn’t beg, borrow, or steal a voucher to Almack’s, but one could extort one, and Pelkey was handy when it came to extortion. As usual, gossip proved more powerful than gold. The dragons who guarded the keep to Almack’s had secrets to hide, much as everyone else in London did.

  Robyn couldn’t fathom why, but the ladies were fond of Pelkey. Maybe it was the roast-beef-sized hands. They gave the ladies lurid ideas. Lurid ideas led to secrets, and Pelkey was a deep, dark, and dirty one. The worthy dragon in question would do anything to keep her younger sister’s liaison with Pelkey from meeting the light of day, even fix her signature to a voucher for Almack’s.

  Archie raised his head off the table. “S’not for his mistress.”

  Pelkey wrapped an arm around Mary’s waist and guffawed again. “What’s that, Archie? Did you say something?”

  Archie frowned and tried again. “Voucher,” he said, more clearly this time. “It’s for Miss Somerset.”

  Damn it. Of course Archie would regain consciousness just in time to drop that little morsel into Pelkey’s lap. Now Robyn would have to explain the whole bloody mess to Pelkey, whose wit was such he’d never understand it on the first go.

  They could be there all night.

  “Somerset?” Pelkey asked. “You mean the blue-eyed chit who just married Carlisle?”

  Even Archie, who was by no means lucid, shook his head at this. “Why would Lady Carlisle need a voucher to Almack’s? It’s for her younger sister. Miss Lily Somerset.”

  Robyn raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know a great deal about Lily’s business. How is that, Archie?”

  Archie swiped with his coat sleeve at the part of his face that had been glued to the table. “I called on Lily and your sisters this afternoon and Ellie told me all about it. She also said you were escorting Lily to Almack’s tonight.” He glanced around him at the sticky tables and the barmaid enthroned on Pelkey’s lap. “Does this look like Almack’s to you, Sutherland?”

  Robyn shrugged. “Similar company.”

  Archie didn’t look amused. “If you’re here, who is Lily’s escort tonight? Don’t tell me you sent her off to Almack’s alone after the Mrs. Tittleton debacle?”

  He looked so horrified, Robyn was taken aback. It wasn’t as bad as all that. There might be a few whispers, yes, and a little lukewarm gossip. An old dowager or two would shake their heads over Lily, but that would be it.

  “Badly done, Robyn,” Archie said. “The ton will eat her alive and pick her bones clean. No need to settle for stale cake tonight.”

  Robyn opened his mouth to reply, but Pelkey, who was still trying to make sense of this recent astonishing information, interrupted him. “What? There’s two blue-eyed chits?”

  “There’s five of them.” Archie had met the three youngest Somerset sisters at Delia and Alec’s wedding. “And each one of them a blue-eyed temptress.”

  For God’s sake. Arch
ie was worse than a gossiping old woman. Maybe he was Mrs. Tittleton.

  Robyn hadn’t intended to offer any information about Lily’s sisters to Pelkey, who was the worst kind of lecher. Alec wouldn’t like it, and besides, Robyn would rather not see Pelkey’s eyes fall out of his head and into Mary’s bodice.

  Or was it Molly?

  Archie only grinned at Robyn’s dark look. “Beauty runs like a stallion with a burr under his saddle though that family.”

  “But Sutherland wanted the other blue-eyed chit,” Pelkey insisted. “The first one. He went on and on about her one night, nearly bored us all to death, he did.”

  Archie belched. “Well, that one married his brother, didn’t she?”

  Pelkey pinched Molly’s ribs. “Well, never mind, Sutherland. One’s the same as the next, eh?”

  Mary squawked, either at the pinch or the sentiment. Robyn wasn’t sure which.

  “One of them is as beautiful as the next,” Archie said.

  Robyn drummed his fingers against the table. Archie had prostrated himself before Lily every day for a fortnight during the Sutherlands’ recent house party, with no success. You’d think a few weeks of rejection would cure him, but it seemed Archie’s admiration hadn’t faded.

  Pelkey leered. “What does she look like?”

  Archie raised his glass in a drunken toast. “Like her elder sister. Enough said.”

  Robyn leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “She’s too . . . tidy.”

  Archie stared. “You’re blind, Sutherland. I can’t think of anyone this season to equal her, aside from your sisters.”

  “Now Sutherland’s sisters . . .” Pelkey began slyly.

  Normally hearing either of his sister’s names on Pelkey’s lecherous lips would be cause for a brawl, but this time Robyn wasn’t even listening.

  Tidy or not, Lily had opened her mouth so sweetly under his when he’d kissed her the other night. That kiss—that slap to the face? She might look the perfect, proper lady, but he had only to recall the way her tongue felt inside his mouth to suspect her prim exterior hid a bounty of wanton delights.

  All that passion, wasted on a dullard like Atherton. All that spirit, writhing in that luscious body, left untapped. Someone had to help Lily loosen her stays, and as Robyn was the only man who’d ever breached the bodice of her gown, he practically had an obligation to do it.

  She didn’t really want Atherton, and even if she did, she’d never catch him. Tempting as she was, she was still Millicent Chase’s daughter. A staid, upright stick like Atherton would never overlook that fact. Why, Robyn would be doing her a service if he kept her from wasting her time on the man.

  He hadn’t any other plans for the season aside from the usual debaucheries, and they’d grown rather dull of late. It would be far more amusing to tease Lily and watch that blush flood her cheeks, and anyway, it would please his sisters. If Lily took to wearing her low-cut gowns again, it would please him, as well, for then he could watch that blush steal over her neck and throat and tinge her bosom with the most delicate pink . . .

  Besides, what if Archie was right? A picture rose in his mind of Lily, standing alone at Almack’s, choking on stale cake while everyone around her whispered and stared. No matter what Archie claimed, even Robyn wasn’t so hopeless he could dismiss that image.

  He got to his feet and gave Archie’s chair a shove with his toe. “Come on, then.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Almack’s. Now. It’s nearly half ten.”

  Archie smiled and stood up. “That’s the way, Sutherland.”

  “I’m coming, too.” Pelkey jumped to his feet so quickly, Molly tumbled off his lap. “Want to see this new blue-eyed chit of Sutherland’s.”

  Mary landed unceremoniously on her arse on the dirty floor. “Oi, guv, ye’ dropped summat, didn’t you?” she screeched, shaking her fist at Pelkey.

  “Never worry, sweetheart,” Pelkey said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. “I may return for you later this evening.”

  “Ye show yer face in here again and I’ll slice off yer—”

  Pelkey slammed the door shut, cutting off the last of Mary’s threat. “I suppose I’ll never get my cravat back now.”

  Chapter Eight

  The conversation continued to float around Lily, but as she’d long since given the evening up for lost, she paid no attention. She kept her head up and her eyes straight ahead. Had it not been for Miss Thurston’s gasp, she’d have spent the rest of the evening staring at Lady Sutton’s enormous yellow turban.

  It was a quiet gasp, subdued, but audible enough to catch Lily’s attention. Her gaze flew toward the entrance just in time to see Robyn stride through the door of Almack’s.

  Blast the man. He even made a black eye look enticing.

  As soon as he entered, there was a decided lull in the conversation, then a buzz of excited voices as the entire company began to speak at once. They sounded like a swarm of greedy bees about to devour a particularly succulent flower.

  Lily yanked at a tiny wrinkle in her glove, her lips tight. It was just like Robyn to appear now, when the company had at last ceased whispering about her. They’d all but forgotten her, but now every head turned toward her again and a wave of anticipation rippled through the ballroom.

  Lord Archibald and Lord Pelkey followed on Robyn’s heels. Lily was happy to see Archie, but how in the name of heaven had Lord Pelkey managed to cross Almack’s sacred threshold without a cravat? The ton had humiliated her all evening simply because she’d mistaken Lord Barrow’s study for the ladies’ retiring room, for pity’s sake. Why should she be punished and Lord Pelkey allowed to stroll about and violate every rule of proper dress?

  Lady Catherine laid a hand on Lily’s arm. “Oh, thank goodness. You’ll soon have a partner, dear. Robyn’s here.”

  Eleanor didn’t look quite as ready to forgive Robyn as her mother did. “Cut it a bit close, hasn’t he? He’s arrived just in time to save his skin.”

  Lady Catherine clearly wished to put the entire incident behind them. “Perhaps, Eleanor, but we won’t discuss it here. Besides, no real harm’s been done.”

  “That’s by no means certain,” Eleanor muttered to Lily. “I may still harm him.”

  A gentleman appeared at Eleanor’s elbow just then to claim his dance. “Robyn is looking for you, Lily,” Ellie muttered in her ear before her partner could sweep her away. “I’m sure you’d much rather tear his hair out than dance with him now, but you must if we wish to discredit Mrs. Tittleton. Do feel free to stomp on his feet, though.”

  Eleanor disappeared in a whirl of midnight blue skirts before Lily could say a word.

  Dance with him? All that twirling about this evening must have addled Ellie’s brain.

  Mrs. Tittleton could fly through Almack’s window, flap around like a monstrous black crow and squawk her lies to the entire ballroom, and Lily would still refuse to dance with Robyn Sutherland.

  He did appear to be looking for her, or for someone, at any rate. He glanced over the couples as they whirled around the ballroom. She supposed it hadn’t even occurred to him she wouldn’t be invited to dance this evening.

  He scanned the room again, a puzzled expression on his face, then she saw Archie gesture toward her and murmur something to him, and at last Robyn’s eyes caught hers.

  She intended to crush him with one righteous glare, but such a strange look passed over his face when he saw her that she became disoriented. He looked . . . as if he weren’t sure whether to be amused or furious.

  Before she could decipher his expression, however, Robyn ran a hand down his face and the look disappeared as if he’d wiped it away with his palm. The wide, slightly mocking grin she knew so well appeared in its place and he started across the ballroom, his eyes fixed on her, his destination unmistakable. />
  Oh, no. He could keep his smile to himself, for she didn’t want any part of him or his heart-stopping grin. She stiffened her spine and turned her back on him, intending to resume her study of Lady Sutton’s turban, and nearly bumped right into Miss Thurston.

  For the past two hours she’d stood not ten paces away from Miss Thurston, but that young lady acted as if Lily had just sprouted from the floor at their feet. “Oh, good evening, Miss Somerset. You’re acquainted with Miss Darlington, I believe?”

  Lily stared at Miss Thurston and Miss Darlington for a moment, confused. The two of them had whispered and gossiped about her all night, but neither of them had deigned to speak or even nod to her, so why . . .

  Of course. They’d caught a delicious whiff of scandal when Robyn entered the room, and now they wanted to be right on hand for the feast. Once they’d stuffed themselves on gossip, they’d no doubt serve the banquet again to every one of their ravenous acquaintances.

  Lily glanced around the ballroom and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. The entire company looked like marionettes, with their heads all jerking in Robyn’s direction as he sauntered across the room. It looked as if invisible strings were attached to their chins.

  “Miss Somerset.” Miss Darlington sank into a polite curtsy, but Lily could see an avaricious gleam in her beady brown eyes.

  They were as horrible as Mrs. Tittleton. Worse, even, for at least Mrs. Tittleton didn’t pretend to be anything other than a spiteful gossip.

  Lily felt her cheeks grow hot with anger, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to return Miss Darlington’s curtsy with a stiff, proper one of her own. “Good evening, Miss Thurston. Miss Darlington. You are acquainted with Lady Sutherland?”

  Robyn joined them as Lady Catherine murmured her greetings. “Good evening, Mother.” He kissed her cheek.

  There was no sign of Lord Pelkey, but Archie came straight to Lily and bowed over her hand. “Good evening, Miss Somerset. How lovely you look.”

  Lily returned his smile with a genuine one of her own. She’d never been so relieved to see anyone in her life as she was to see Archie. “Lord Archibald. I’m pleased to see you this evening.”