Page 24 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“It will prove the rumors false better than anything I could ever say or do, and your daughter will come away with everyone noting her graciousness and dignity.” And Sybil’s indignity, but it would not be the first time. She enjoyed her escapades and did not regret them, but it would be foolish to pretend there was not a price to pay every time.

Lady Pontefract released her breath, gathered for another screech. Her expression turned abruptly mild and bland. It was slightly terrifying. She might have made a good Spinster. “I take your point, Miss Taunton.”

“Thank you, Maman,” her daughter murmured.

“And how do you intend to rectify this situation?” Lady Pontefract snapped from behind her fan. It dripped with pink and pearl tassels. If she grew any more agitated with the fluttering of it, her eyes would be in very great danger.

Before Sybil could reply, Keir appeared behind her.

She knew he was there before he said a word. The attention of the other guests was a honed arrow, nocked at the bowstring and aimed directly at them. No escaping.

Keir Montgomery did not blend into the wallpaper at the best of times. He was too large, too rugged, even with the fine cut of his coat, the engraved gold buttons. The hewn line of his jaw, the patient, piercing green of his eyes.

It would have been so much easier if he stank of herring and old cheese.

He smelled like rain and wood smoke.

Unforgivable.

The absolute blighter.

“Lady Pontefract.” He bowed politely. His expression warmed. “Lady Violetta.” And then turned inscrutable. “Miss Taunton.”

“Lord Blackburn,” Sybil murmured to him when no other chatter was forthcoming. The gossips would be in their glory if the four of them stood about awkwardly staring at each other in silence. Not to mention that Lady Pontefract was about to explode, which would not do anyone any favors. “You should dance.”

“Oh, should I?” he replied, faintly amused. Violetta blinked at him as if surprised. Sybil did not blame her. His brief smile, rarely seen, was devastating.

“Yes. Dance with Lady Violetta, and I will stand with the other wallflowers and look appropriately subdued.”

“Is that a skill you have?” He sounded dubious.

“I have many skills.” She sounded positively suggestive, and she had not meant to. His eyes flared. Heat bloomed in her lower belly in response. That would not do. Not here. “Just go so I can fix this as I promised.”

“What if I want to dance with you?” he asked so softly that only she could hear him, and she was not convinced she had heard him correctly.

“You don’t,” she pointed out. Was he flirting? The man did not flirt. With anyone. And certainly not with her. This was against all of the rules.

“I don’t?” he said. “You sound very sure.”

Was this his idea of revenge? She had thought him too proper for that.

“I am sure.” She did not know what this game was, but she had no intention of playing. She did not play games where she lost before she even started. It was hardly sporting. And the possibility for devastation was too great.

“Did you hit your head on the way here?” she asked, crossly.

He chuckled.

Out loud.

In the middle of a crowded ballroom.

Both Sybil and Violetta turned slowly to stare at him.

“Lady Violetta,” Keir said, his voice whisky and cream. Delicious. “It appears that we have our marching orders.” He held out his hand. “Will you dance?”

Violetta smiled prettily. “Of course, my lord.”

They were perfect together. Polished, gracious. Refined in a way that drew the eye, held it.