No.
He did not want refreshment. He did not want conversation. He did not want to stand at the edge of a ballroom pretending not to notice young ladies casting practiced glances in his direction, when noticing them would only oblige him to be kind.
His gaze drifted over the room and paused, briefly, upon Lady Persephone Rensleight.
She was being led toward the terrace by Mr. Percival Hatherleigh.
Not remarkable, perhaps. Hatherleigh seemed harmless enough—pleasant, polished, and entirely ordinary. Lady Persephone, meanwhile, looked composed. Proper. Perfectly capable of declining the invitation if she wished to do so.
It was none of Gideon’s concern.
Most things this evening, he reflected, were none of his concern.
Unfortunately, before he could make any useful retreat, Lady Longstaffe appeared beside him, gripping his elbow with a surprisingly sturdy hand.
She was small, silver-haired, and exquisitely dressed in lavender silk, her lace cap set at a jaunty angle and her sharp dark eyes bright with the sort of affectionate purpose that made escape nearly impossible.
“Lord Hawkins,” she said, smiling up at him with dangerous affection. “How very elegant you look this evening.”
Gideon bowed. “Not nearly as elegant as you, my lady.”
“Compliments will get you nowhere.” Her fan moved in a slow, accusing arc toward the dance floor. “Did you think I had not noticed your absence from it?”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“Certainly not a handsome bachelor avoiding the dance floor.” Her fan flicked toward the nearest cluster of young ladies. “I believe you have disappointed at least a dozen hopeful creatures already. That is not like you, my dear Lord Hawkins.”
“The evening is young, my lady. Disappointment seems premature.”
“Mm.” Lady Longstaffe’s gaze narrowed, and then swept the room. “Speaking of disappointments, is my nephew in attendance? I have not seen him all evening.”
“I suspect we both know Lord Longstaffe is incapable of disappointing you,” Gideon said. “He is, after all, the apple of your eye.”
She gave a small tut, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “Well. He is a very fine young man.”
“A model of virtue.”
“Do not be impertinent, Lord Hawkins.” But her eyes warmed as she looked up at him, the familiarity of years softening the reproof. “Still, I do wish you boys would settle yourselves. All of you. Set up a few nurseries filled before I leave this earth. Is that so much to ask?”
Gideon laughed despite himself.
Only Lady Longstaffe could make a man feel guilty for failing to produce offspring on command.
“I shall convey your expectations to Longstaffe next time I see him.”
“See that you do.”
“He may be in the cardroom,” Gideon said, seizing upon the possibility with unseemly gratitude. “Perhaps I had better look.”
“Perhaps you had,” she said, though her expression suggested she knew very well when a gentleman was escaping her.
Gideon bowed over her hand. “It has been my pleasure, as always, my lady.”
“Always saying the right thing.” She shook her head.
“Just the truth.”
She laughed and dismissed him with a flick of her fan.
