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“Didn’t know you were in London,” Brunswick said to Darroch.
The Scott took a draught of his champagne. “Only for a short while. Business brought me here.”
Edmund and Harris met as associates. Thornton introduced him to the Duke, and the three of them became good companions.
“I have a feeling Edinburgh is becoming too small for you,” Edmund ventured.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He lifted his glass to a widow on the other side of the room. “Soon I’ll have to think about moving my operations here.” Darroch had the fame of being a libertine, given to enjoying the pleasures of life.
“For one, I won’t complain,” Titus commented. “We’ll have more opportunity to meet.”
“That’ll be the upside of it,” Harris replied with a grin.
“Care for a hand of cards?” Brunswick suggested to his friends. It was the only distraction for him as his wife could not attend for being in confinement with their first child.
Sitting still through a card game would drive Edmund insane. “Perhaps later.” He ought to find an outlet for this restive state. The outlet method was clear while the partner… Impossible.
With his dark eyes on the widow, Harris said, “There’s someone I must greet.”
“Fine. I will take my chances,” Titus said as he walked away.
The woman was nowhere in sight, not inside the room, Edmund concluded with a last roundabout of his search.
He was wasting his time; he berated himself. He should be making acquaintance with eligible debutantes and decide on who he would court. His duty lay with securing the continuing of the Thornton line. The idea of marrying a brainless chit out of the schoolroom kept him cold. There would be time for that after he saw what the hell Otilia was up to tonight.
Last he remembered, she had been ambling towards the terrace. Of course. He strode there dodging the smiling, match-making mamas on the way.
Edmund stepped through the French doors to witness Carlton kissing Otilia’s gloved hand. That lion which had been poked with Brunswick’s comment awoke fully now. He fairly marched to the two of them, temper simmering just below the surface.
“What are you doing alone with a man here?” he asked with a trace of menace in his tone.
Otilia and Trent lifted their heads to him. Her expression schooled fast, but for a second he saw a glimmer of a forlorn emotion on it. He wondered what the blasted dandy must be saying to cause that look on her.
“We are hardly alone, Thornton,” Oliver answered with a cool stance.
Other people milled throughout the open place apparently engrossed in their own conversations. The three of them kept their voices quiet and their stances neutral to avoid gossip.
“You are not accompanied either,” Edmund answered looking at Otilia, trying, and failing, not to be rash.
“Do I need to be?” the siren asked insouciantly.
“You damn well do.” His eyes collided with her defiant ones.
“She does not have a chaperone, does she?” her friend needled.
He directed a murderous glare to the other man. This friendship looked exceedingly suspicious to him. They seemed to have too many secrets between them.
“I am her chaperone,” he pointed out in a forceful voice.
“Your concern for my reputation is touching, my lord.” On the surface, her tone showed mere gratitude. Only Edmund detected her sarcasm. It angered him, at the same time it inflicted arousal.
“Go find your cloak. We are leaving,” he ordered without a trace of guilt.
The victorious glare with which she presented him put fuel to the anger he was trying hard not to vent. He knew she did not want to come in the first place. “Yes, my lord.” She curtsied with mocking meekness before parading inside as if she had all the time in the world.
Both men watched as the ballroom throngs swallowed her shapely figure.
“This watchfulness looks a lot like jealousy.” Trent cast the silky jab.
