Page 39 of A Scoundrel in the Making

Chapter Ten

The following evening at the ball, Abigail gave thanks that Liam hadn’t appeared. What had gotten into the boy? Abigail had no idea why he wanted to marry her or what would make him think she would consider his suit. Aside from the fact he was six years her junior, he was more like a little brother than a cousin.

Happily, Lord Chaluim openly ignored her. Typically, when on a mission, alienating anyone was a bad idea. She would love to have the opportunity to find out what Lord Chaluim and the other gentleman had been talking about when she and Lord Reade overheard them in the hallway. Worse come to worse, she would simply confront him.

Abigail caught sight of a waiter with champagne and turned toward him. She stopped short, nearly ramming into Lord Devers.

“Forgive me, sir.” Abigail sidestepped him, but he stepped in front of her.

“I have been looking for you, my dear.”

An alarm blared in her head. There was only one reason he would be looking for her. She’d really had quite enough of this nonsense for one evening. She’d fought off the advances of half a dozen overzealous suitors. She had no time for a sixty year old earl who had decided he was the answer to his money problems. No doubt he wouldn’t mind the title of marquess along with his earldom, she thought with disgust.

“Forgive me, Lord Devers, but I am in a hurry.”

“Nonsense.” He grasped her arm. “Surely, you have a moment to spare for me, Abigail.”

She stiffened. “I beg your pardon. I did not give you leave to address me with such familiarity.”

A knowing glint appeared in his eye. “Come now, there is no need to pretend with me. I heard what happened with Reade tossing that young man out of your chambers last night.” He squeezed her arm. “How many men did you have in your room?”

She’d been the topic of more than one scandal in Paris, but in England, no hint of a scandal had ever touched her life. How likely was Mr. Russell to demand that the Marchioness of Buchman leave his party if she were to—

Abigail faced Devers, then, in one fluid movement, rammed her knee into his groin. He released her and doubled over, wheezing.

“Ass,” she muttered, amongst the cries of guests around him, as she hurried away.

Abigail caught sight of Reade with Mr. Russell near the hallway on the wall to her left. He stared in her direction, a dark frown creasing his brow. Bloody hell, if Reade thought she was being mauled by another prospective suitor he would forget about getting Mr. Russell into a card game and come to her rescue.

She gave a tiny shake of her head and telepathed that all was well. His eyes narrowed, but he turned with Mr. Russell, headed for the hallway where the card tables had been set up. Abigail drank in the sight of Reade’s broad shoulders, perfectly molded by his jacket. He was magnificent.

Her legs unexpectedly felt like jelly at the memory of his declaration, “I feel certain Lord John or any of your other suitors—including that pup I tossed out—couldn’t please you so well.” The man was sure of himself—and with good reason. He had pleased her a second time—as no other lover had. She’d slept better than she had in ages, and without nightmares…or claret, she realized. Might he spend another night in her chambers trying to prove his prowess?

“Lady Buchman,” a woman said.

Abigail jarred from her thoughts and realized Lady Julia stared at her. Abigail inclined her head. “What a pleasure to see you, Lady Julia.”

“I am surprised to see you,” she replied.

“Really?”

Lady Julia glanced around, then leaned close and said in a whisper loud enough to carry to the matrons sitting nearby, “It’s all the talk about how Lord Reade threw another man out of your bedchamber—and Lord Reade was naked. It is true, is it not?”

Shock registered on one matron’s face, who leaned toward her companion and whispered.

Abigail had rebuffed similar questions all night. She smiled coolly. “You know how gossip is. It seldom resembles truth.”

Lady Julia gave a knowing laugh. “Lord John saw it with his own eyes. He said Lord Reade was naked as the day he was born and…shall we say, in a heightened state of arousal.”

“Lord John is not a reliable witness,” Abigail replied.

Julia’s brows shot up. “Why is that?”

“He has a grievance with Lord Reade, as Lord Reade intervened on my behalf when Lord John became overzealous in his attentions to me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Lady Julia blurted.

“Indeed?” Abigail said. “You believe what he tells you he saw, but don’t believe what I tell you happened. This is how gossip takes hold.”