Page 24 of One Night with an Earl

She’d been drawn to him as soon as she’d seen him. Even before he’d intervened to remove her from Lord Moore’s cruel grasp in the brothel’s salon, she’d never looked at another.

As if the earl sensed her attention, he turned, and their gazes met across the crowded ballroom.

He raised his glass in acknowledgment.

A sharp intake of breath crossed her lips, and she froze. He hadn’t recognized her, had he? The sounds of the ballroom faded to a dull hum—the talking, the laughter. No music from the orchestra, the shuffling of footsteps on the hardwood floor.

Do not panic. Do not panic.

She turned to see if he was looking at anyone behind her, but no one was there. She looked back to find him staring at her.

Her heart raced within her chest, and her first instinct was to flee. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm. Logic returned. He only recognized her as Lady Penelope’s chaperone. Dull. Drab. Dutiful.

He could not know she was anyone other than Miss Gardner.

…

From the moment Oliver saw Miss Gardner standing away from the crowd like a wallflower, his interest was piqued. She’d been watching him, and when he’d raised his glass to acknowledge her, he’d seen the flash of panic in her eyes.

Yes. She should be afraid.

Unfortunately, he was waylaid by his brother’s friends.

“How long must we stay at this dreadful ball?” Sutherland asked.

“You will have to deal with your mother’s disapproval if you don’t ask at least three ladies to dance,” Elton said, glancing at his new wife, who stood in the corner speaking with a group of young ladies. “I envy you.”

“Lud. She seeks a match for me with the Duke of Desford’s daughter. The woman is chicken breasted and has the face of a frog.” Sutherland tossed back his head and finished his drink.

“Who cares what she looks like? The duke settled a huge dowry upon his daughter,” Elton said.

“Elton’s right. You don’t need candlelight to produce an heir,” the Earl of Moore said.

Oliver’s dislike of Moore hadn’t improved, and he vividly recalled their fight over Lady Scarlet at the Silver Chalice. Moore, on the other hand, behaved like it had never occurred. Probably because he never thought twice about forcing a woman, Cyprian or not. Oliver would still like to challenge him in the boxing ring. Men like Moore never lasted more than one round.

“Let’s head to White’s afterward. We need to stay abreast of the newest wager on the betting book,” Elton said.

“What do you think, Drake?”

Oliver’s attention snapped back to the group. “Pardon?”

“Who do you think we should bet on?”

All three pairs of eyes were focused on him.

“For what?” Oliver asked.

“Have you paid any attention at all? The wager at White’s betting book. Who do you think will be the first to bed the newest Drury Lane actress?” Sutherland asked.

This was the reason he disliked his brother’s friends. They focused on trivial nonsense, on their own pleasure, rather than their titles and the tenants, servants, and family members who depended upon them for their livelihoods. Duty was a foreign concept.

“Perhaps it will be you, Moore,” Oliver said.

“Ha! Your answer makes up for your lack of focus, Drake.”

He grit his teeth as Moore slapped him on the back.

Oliver returned his attention to the chaperone. Miss Gardner’s gaze met his, and he sensed her nervousness like a doe ready to flee a hunter.