Page 103 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Sophie blinked. “What happened to my staid big brother?”

“It was all a sham,” Sybil whispered. “Don’t feel bad—he even fooled himself for a while.”

Keir’s arm was at her waist before she even heard him move, and he scooped her up into his arms. “Not this again,” she muttered, but the effect was ruined when she snuggled into his chest. “I can walk. I’m not even bleeding anymore.”

“You’re going to sit by the fire until someone can look at that cut.” His jaw clenched, unclenched. She smoothed her fingertips over it.

“I’m fine.”

“You are perfect.”

She shook her head. “Hardly.”

“Perfect for me.” He kissed her gently, thoroughly. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Are you ready to come home with me?”

“Yes, Keir. Let’s go home.”

He kissed her again. And again.

Until they realized they had crossed back into the pandemonium of the ballroom. But even a hundred flyers and the bad deeds of bad men were not enough to distract from the Marquess Blackburn carrying the orphan girl from Seven Dials.

And kissing her.

A lot.

A hush fell as heads turned, eyes widened. Whispers swelled almost immediately.

“Oh dear, most unseemly of us.” Sybil grinned.

“You are definitely a bad influence,” Keir murmured. “I look forward to scandalizing the ton on a regular basis.”

“Raise your glasses to my daughter, Sybil Taunton, the guest of honor,” her father called out, a glass of champagne in his hand.

Amandine smiled smugly, motioning for the footmen. A cloud of white butterflies flew from gold birdcages that had been draped in silver silk. “Also, as of this morning, the Marchioness Blackburn!”

Every eye in the room blinked at Sybil, maskless, her hair falling from its pins, her gown torn at the hem and stained with blood.