Page 49 of Scandal’s Daughter

Lord Nibley moved forward, shielding her from him, as though he was some kind of enemy to her.

“Your grace?” Nibley bowed, but there was a challenge in his eyes that Sebastian had never seen before.

Percy had been bullied at Eton. Too tall and gangly, bookish and useless at sports, he’d never been able to stand up to anyone and had been a target from day one.

Sebastian had been too caught in his own troubles to notice for much of the time, but he’d seen Beau step in and protect him on occasion and so Sebastian had followed suit without really questioning it. Once everyone knew he was under their protection, the bullying had died away. But now, here he was, challenging Sebastian, as though he was the bully and Georgiana in need of defence!

“Percy,” he replied, keeping his voice and manner as non-threatening as he could manage, which wasn’t easy as he wanted to pick the fool up and throw him over his shoulder.

“Miss Bomford,” he said, looking past her spindly protector. “It is a pleasure to see you here.”

She stared back at him, but he could read nothing in those tawny eyes except suspicion. She put him in mind of a fox watching out for the hounds. He had a sudden and vivid image of himself in a red coat, out to destroy her.

Was that what she thought of him?

Was that what she believed he wanted? The longer she stayed silent the more he believed it was.

“I hope you will forgive me for my behaviour the other night,” he said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I ... I was surprised beyond measure and it stole my manners from me. Please be assured, I meant no disrespect.”

She still said nothing, but had that been a slight tilt of her head, an acknowledgement of his words? He wasn’t sure. He did know everyone around them had fallen silent; that the stares of the entire ballroom were burning the back of his neck.

Sebastian lowered his voice as far as he dared and took a step closer, his heart plummeting as she flinched.

“Would ...” he began, suddenly feeling as nervous as a green boy, seeking the hand of a woman far beyond his reach. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

She swallowed, her eyes darting away from him, as though looking for an escape. “The next dance is already taken, your grace,” she said, with such a cool tone that part of him wanted to slink away in shame. He took a breath, determined not to be thwarted. “Then pencil me in for another,” he replied, smiling at her and willing her to give him the chance.

Her expression didn’t change, a considering gaze that seemed to weigh up the sum of his parts and find him wanting in every respect. “That might be a little awkward,” she replied.

“Oh?” He heard the disappointment in that simple sound as clearly as if a bell had rung but he suspected she hadn’t finished yet. “How so?”

She raised one elegant eyebrow at him. “How ever would I know what name to write down?” she asked, the well-aimed blow finding its target with deadly accuracy.

For the first time since he was a small boy, he felt a flush of embarrassment stain his cheeks. Before he could demand she allow him to explain, his breath caught as a smile curved over that lovely mouth and pleasure lit her eyes. But not for him.

“Lord Beaumont,” she replied, holding her hand out to Beau as the smooth devil raised it to his lips. He kissed her fingers, holding her gaze.

“Hello, Eve,” he replied, winking at her. “Still waving that apple under my nose I see.”

Her laughter seemed to wrap around Sebastian’s heart and squeeze tight. Though it seemed to be a private joke, the meaning was obvious enough and the intimacy of it stole his breath. He glared at Beau, wanting nothing more than to smash his fist into that damned perfect face.

“My dance I believe,” Beau said, sparing a cursory glance for him as he settled her hand in the crook of his arm. “Sindalton,” he replied, nodding as they passed, the glimmer of a smile at his lips.

The smug bastard.

He watched with jealousy raging through his body, his muscles taut with the desire to cross the floor and tear them apart as he saw Beau take her in his arms.

Worse than anything was the picture they presented. Beau’s dazzling colouring, the rakishly careless styling of his golden hair that gave him the look of a fallen angel, set against the fiery red of Georgiana and that pure white dress.

They looked like ancient deities come to play for a while in the human world before returning to their perfect lives.

He couldn’t let Beau have her. He wouldn’t. He had to get her back.

***

“You dealt him quite a blow, sweet Eve,” Beau said to her, amusement glimmering in his gorgeous blue eyes. “I shall have to guard my heart I see. If I ever dare reach for that apple, I might get quite a set down.”

Georgiana didn’t know what to say to that. Her heart and mind were in turmoil. Seeing him there, Sebastian, asking for her forgiveness. It had been everything she’d wanted but she’d quickly realised it wasn’t enough.