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When Richmond’s face angled toward him, Lancaster almost retreated. He almost turned and walked away. He could not do this.
Richmond frowned at him as if he couldn’t place him. His eyebrows dipped lower as he tried to puzzle it out. Had there been so many then? Too many to recall? Lancaster’s stomach clenched at the thought.
Then Richmond’s mouth bloomed into a friendly, harmless smile. “Hello there, boy. You look well.” His eyes dipped over Lancaster’s body. “Very well indeed.”
Boy. Lancaster’s hands squeezed to fists. “Get out.”
Richmond’s brow rose. “Are you speaking on behalf of His Grace now? I had no idea you were such intimate friends.”
“Get out.” He stalked closer.
“Not until I’ve retrieved my property.”
“She is not your property, you bastard.” Lancaster lunged for him, leapt like a hound for his throat, and he managed to get his fingers into the soft flesh beneath Richmond’s jaw before hands grabbed at his arms.
“Milord!” the butler gasped. “Please!”
Lancaster dug his fingers deeper and watched Richmond’s eyes bulge with alarm. His cane cracked into Lancaster’s shin. Bram looked on, impassive.
The hands finally pulled him off.
“Lord Richmond,” Somerhart’s voice drawled from behind Lancaster’s back. “I don’t remember your name on the guest list.”
“Where is she?” Richmond rasped, hand pressed carefully to his neck.
“Perhaps we should retire to my study. Lancaster, would you join us?”
Fingers still curled tight, crushing an imaginary throat, Lancaster glanced dazedly behind him.
Somerhart’s hand was on his shoulder, so Lancaster turned and stepped out of his grasp. The faces of the crowd were pale ovals etched with open mouths and wide eyes, all staring at him. “Very well,” he said and started toward Somerhart’s study, the past trailing behind him like the shadow of a flame.
“Richmond is here,” Emma said in a low voice as she led Cynthia out of the ballroom. “In my home.” Her voice vibrated with fury, or perhaps that was just the shocked trembling of Emma’s bones.
“It’s Richmond?” The words came calmer than she expected. “Where?”
“In Hart’s study. My husband wanted to end the scene, I suppose, but I’d have preferred that he toss that dog out on his ear.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cynthia murmured.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stopped at the mouth of a long hallway. “Would you like to join them? I understand if it would make you too nervous, but they are discussing your future, after all.”
Yes, it made her nervous. It made her gut churn with acid to think of being in the same room with that man, but she had faced him before. Alone. “I’d like to join them, if you’d be so kind as to show me the way.”
Emma smiled. “Good girl. Follow me. We cannot let gentlemen determine our futures, can we?”
“God, no,” she muttered. “I’d sooner toss myself to the wolves. No offense to His Grace, of course.”
“They are peculiar creatures,” Emma offered with a wink.
Cynthia’s smile fell away when she realized they’d stopped before a tall, imposing door. Emma reached past her to ease it open, and Cynthia was rather relieved when the duchess followed her into the room. Dark wood reached all the way to the ceiling, and deep brown furniture added to the overwhelming masculinity of the space.
Two pairs of men stood at opposite sides of a low table. There were chairs behind their knees, but none seemed inclined to sit. When she closed the door, Nick’s head snapped toward her, his face radiating disapproval.
“Ah, here she is,” Richmond purred. Cynthia didn’t look in his direction.
“You should leave,” Nick snapped.
“No.”
