AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Lady Andromeda is exceptional,” Haven drawled. “She’s bound to have a rich dowry. I could not give a fig if her mother started life as a lady’s companion or her brother is a bastard, not when she looks like that.” He nodded in Andromeda’s direction. “Despite having been unwise enough to spend time with you.”
Haven had no idea what the nature of David’s time with Andromeda had comprised, else he would stop talking immediately.
“I think Andromeda and I might get on together. I’d have to fight Estwood for her, though.”
“If you go near her, Haven,” David replied in his most conversational tone, eyes never once leaving Andromeda's graceful form, “I will take great pleasure in breaking the fingers of both your hands before doing the same to your wrists. You would never hold a gun or a sword with any ability again. A shame, as you’ve so many enemies.”
Haven, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “You’ll be married to Beatrice”—his words dripped with sarcasm—“and unable to stop me.Yourbehavior toward Andromeda will become fodder for the gossips. Just think of the scandal.”
If David took a hold of Haven’s chin and smashed his head into the wall, his body would slide down into a rumbled heap. Everyone would assume Haven was already foxed, and footmen would be summoned to carry him up to his rooms.
“Andromeda”—he accepted the glass of scotch a servant had fetched for him—“isn’t for you, Haven. I’ll kill you if you touch her.”
Haven choked on his wine. “Christ, you’re serious.”
David didn’t bother to look at his friend again; all his attention remained on Andromeda as Estwood stopped to speak to her. He pushed away from the wall and Haven, welcoming the way he could feel himself unraveling. The scotch helped.
He never even looked in Beatrice’s direction.
* * *
“Dance with me?”
Romy turned to see Granby, dark and unfathomable, gazing down at her. He’d watched her almost continuously since she and Theo had entered the ballroom, his eyes following her every step.
Romy had ignored him, of course, resolved to merely get through this evening without her heart being damaged further. The sight of Beatrice, glowing like a golden star in one of Romy’s finest creations, unsettled her to no end. If not for Theo, Romy would already have fled to London, uncaring of how cowardly it would be.
“No, thank you, Your Grace.” Besides the usual aroma of pine and shaving soap, there was also a whiff of scotch hovering about Granby’s shoulders. Glancing down, she saw the glass of amber liquid clasped in one large hand. She’d never seen him imbibe outside of the occasional sip of wine at dinner.
“Don’t be difficult,Romy.” The sound of her nickname on his lips sent a delicious tingle down her arms. A thick wave of hair fell over one eye as he leaned closer. “I dance well.”
“I have my doubts.”
Granby’s gaze lingered over her mouth before it lifted upward. “Butterflies are a particular favorite of mine. I used to catch them as a boy.”
“To pull their wings off, Your Grace?”
His lips curled upward as he drained his glass and set it down before taking her hand. She was pulled behind him, like a tiny rowboat dragged by a much larger ship.
“You should be dancing with Beatrice,” she bit out. “She has tiny suns in her hair. Much more dramatic than butterflies.”
“But I don’t want to dance with Beatrice.” He pulled her to him, lips nearly brushing her ear. “I know what you’ve done.” The low rumble of his voice traveled up her neck. “You continue to make things so much more difficult. Why? When there are enough obstacles?” His dark gaze settled on the tops of her breasts. “Pink. Or perhaps the color of chokeberries.”
Romy shook her head in confusion. He didn’t appear to be foxed exactly, only incredibly relaxed. The lovely half-smile on his lips enticed her. “What is it I’ve done?” Warmth settled at the base of her spine, the pads of his fingers sinking into her skin.
“I’ve found you out, naughty little shrub.” His breath ruffled through her hair, his nose almost nuzzling the side of her neck. “Christ, you smell delicious. I don’t care for lavender on principle, but against your skin”—he inhaled again—“I find I like it.”
Romy tried to pull back from him, but his hold on her only tightened. “Are you foxed?”
Fingers moved to trace the line of one rib. “Why do you ask?”
“You don’t seem yourself.”
Granby seemedverymuch unlike himself.
They danced past Lady Foxwood who curled her lips in displeasure as she caught Romy’s eye. Beatrice flounced, glaring at them from the wall, looking like a crestfallen angel.
The gown did look smashing on her.
