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Like you could trust him.
Although, the situation I had found him in was certainly not one to inspire great trust. He was completely naked with an unwed girl… and one who was about to be married to the host of the party, at that.
“Who are you?” Lord Marsden suddenly said in a commanding, accusatory tone, a look of annoyance glinting in his ocean blue eyes.
I felt my face grow even redder.
The Lord had no idea who I was.
I had spent half the night thinking about him, and the memories we’d shared as children at Rosehill…
But he didn’t remember me. I was unimportant and unmemorable, as usual. I didn’t matter - not to him, and not to anyone at this ball.
Before he had a chance to ask again, I turned and ran away, leaving Lord Marsden and his tryst deep in the hedges. He was a rake, there was no doubt about that.
The boy I had been once been best friends with was gone.
Chapter Two
Lord Marsden
Iwokeupatthe crack of dawn with a pounding headache. I was on the floor, my shirt completely unbuttoned and ripped across the front, with bright red wine stains splashed across the expensive white linen. After my eyes adjusted to the painful sun beams shining across the parquet floors, I groaned and forced myself upwards, getting a good look at the damage.
And, wow, there was some damage.
The drawing room of my Mayfair townhome was thoroughly wrecked. Indeed, it was almost comical justhowdestroyed the room really was. There were shattered champagne glasses everywhere, the sofas were stained with liquor and wine, and one of the leather armchairs was toppled over, its wooden leg broken in half. A few liquor bottles were strewn across the carpet, leaking dark amber spirits onto the woven threads.
Perhaps most absurdly, a few bedraggled party guests were still laying on the furniture, passed out from the night’s antics.
I peered at their bodies, double checking to make sure they were still breathing. Last thing I needed was a dead party guest.
How did they get here, anyways? I couldn’t remember coming home last night… I had gone to Lord Turley’s ball, already drunk, and then gotten into some trouble with Juliana…
That was all I could remember, for the most part. There was a rather unpleasant memory of getting caught by some girl when skinny dipping, which certainly couldn’t have been good. But after that, nothing.
I glanced around the room again, eyeing the girl on the sofa who was barely dressed. Clearly it had been a good night, even if I couldn’t remember it.
I poured myself a drink from the liquor cart, which was, by some miracle, still in good condition. There was nothing like another drink to cure a hangover – and I couldn’t stand to be sober.
The girl on the sofa began to stir. I didn’t recognize her face, nor the other guests in the room. Probably for the better – that likely meant they were of less consequence. I had already seduced the engaged daughter of a viscount… it was likely best I didn’t add any duchesses into the mix, too.
Just then, a small knock on the door sent a pang through my head.
I swung open the door, my shirt still unbuttoned, to find myself facing the butler. I saw his eyes dart down to the glass of sherry in my hand, but he said nothing about my drinking habits. That’s what I paid him for, after all.
“Good morning, my lord. The Duke of Cavendish has arrived… he mentioned that you had a fencing appointment.”
The noise of his words sent my head reeling, and for a moment I thought I might throw up. Fencing? Oh boy.
I sighed.
“Indeed, I believe you are correct. Tell him I’ll be ready in five… well, maybe ten, minutes.”
The butler nodded.
“I’ll take toast in my dressing room. And, have this dealt with, will you?” I motioned lazily behind me to the ruined drawing room.
It would be quite expensive to fix, but such was the cost of being the ton’s most notorious rake. And that was a reputation I was keen to uphold.
