Sarah Mallory - Beauty And The Brooding Lord

‘Gone?’

‘Aye. He had the impudence to suggest I should vacate the seat, so I kicked him out.’

She swallowed. ‘Literally?’

His great shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘No. Mere jostling. He retreated rather than have my fist spoil his face.’

She sucked in a long, indignant breath. ‘That is disgraceful behaviour. Quite boorish.’

‘I suppose you would have preferred me to give way. But why should I? I came out here to enjoy a cigarillo in peace. You two will have to find some other place for your lovemaking.’

His voice dripped scorn. Serena’s face burned with mortification.

‘How dare you! It is nothing like that.’

‘No?’

Knowing she was in the wrong did nothing for Serena’s temper. She drew herself up and said angrily, ‘You are odiously rude!’

‘If it’s soft words you want I suggest you go and find your lover.’

‘Oh, I shall go,’ she told him in a shaking voice,’ and he is not my lover.’

He grinned, his teeth gleaming white in the moonlight. ‘No need to be coy on my account, madam.’

Serena gasped. ‘Oooh, you...you...’

He folded his arms and looked down at her. ‘Yes?’

For a moment she glared at him, her hands closing into fists as she tried to control her rage. It would be most undignified to rip up at him. Resisting the urge to stamp her foot, she turned and swept off, muttering angrily under her breath all the insults she would like to hurl at the odious creature.

* * *

Serena hurried back to the ballroom. It was half-empty, most of the guests having gone in to supper. Those who remained were talking in little groups and she prayed no one had noticed her entry, for her agitation must be evident. She slipped away to the small room set aside for the ladies, where she had earlier left her cloak and outdoor shoes. The looking glass showed that her cheeks were still flushed and her brown eyes sparkled with anger. She made a pretence of tidying her hair, although in truth her honey-gold curls were remarkably in place.

Really, she thought indignantly, it was most frustrating. All she wanted to do was to find an interesting husband, one who would not bore her silly within a week, like the exceedingly correct suitors her half-brothers insisted upon presenting to her. These respectable gentlemen were to be her dancing partners for the whole evening, which was the reason Henry and Dorothea had thought it safe to go off to the card room and allow Serena out of their sight. But a short break in the dancing had given Serena the opportunity to slip out and meet one whom she knew to be a rake and who was therefore much more interesting.

Serena remained in the retiring room until her indignation had died away, then she shook out her skirts, put up her head and sailed downstairs to the supper room where she found her brother and sister-in-law enjoying a cold collation in the far corner. Nearer at hand, Elizabeth Downing and her brother were part of a lively group gathered about one of the larger tables. Elizabeth waved and Serena walked over. Immediately Jack Downing sprang up and pulled out a chair for her, then he proceeded to hover solicitously until Serena had been provided with a plate of delicacies and a glass of wine.

After the incident in the rose garden such attention was balm to Serena’s spirits. Mr Downing was a serious young man whom she had previously apostrophised as stuffy, but at least he was not rude . She now thanked him prettily and allowed him to engage her in conversation until the musicians could be heard tuning up again and everyone began to drift back to the ballroom.

The dancing recommenced and Serena looked around for Sir Timothy. Imagining his ignominious departure from the rose garden, she was not surprised to learn that he had gone home, but she felt no sympathy for him. She wished he had come to blows with the rude stranger and knocked him down rather than walking off and leaving her to endure a most unpleasant encounter. However, when she recalled the size of the stranger, she doubted Sir Timothy would have got the better of him.

* * *

The evening was proving to be exceedingly tedious and after a couple of dances Serena excused herself and went in search of her sister-in-law.

‘What, you wish to leave, before the dancing is ended?’ Lady Hambridge gave the loud, irritating laugh that announced she had enjoyed too much wine this evening. She shook her head at Serena and said playfully, ‘This is most unlike you, Serena! No, no, we cannot go yet, for you are engaged to stand up with Lord Afton. I should be failing in my duty if I were to take you away before he has danced with you.’

Viscount Afton was the highest-ranking bachelor at this evening’s ball. Serena thought him dull, pompous and old enough to be her grandfather, but it would do no good to say as much to her sister-in-law, so when the time came she pinned on a smile and went off to dance the quadrille. As the dance ended she spotted a familiar figure at the side of the room. She touched Lord Afton’s arm.

‘Tell me, my lord, do you know that gentleman, the large man talking to Lord Grindlesham?’

‘What’s that, m’dear?’ The Viscount looked about him and gave a disdainful grunt. ‘Do you mean that great bear of a man? That’s Lord Quinn. Damned unpleasant fellow. No one likes him.’

She was pleased that Lord Afton shared her opinion of the stranger from the rose garden, but curious, too.

‘If that is the case, why is he invited?’

‘Rich as Croesus,’ he replied shortly. ‘He don’t often show his face in town, but Grindlesham is selling off his art collection and that will be the reason he is come. Rufus Quinn is considered to be something of a connoisseur, I believe.’ He huffed. ‘Well, he can afford to indulge himself.’

There was a bitter note in the viscount’s tone, but since it was well known that Lord Afton had little fortune, it did not surprise Serena. As he led her back to join Dorothea and Henry, she took the opportunity to study Lord Quinn from a safe distance. In the blaze of candlelight, it was clear to see that he was no arbiter of fashion. His coat of dark blue superfine fitted well enough across his impressive shoulders, but no servant was needed to ease him into it and the simple arrangement of his neckcloth would not rouse envy in the breast of any aspiring dandy. His brown hair was not brushed into artful disorder; it was positively untidy. His face was rugged, his nose not quite straight and his brow fierce. He looked impatient and she already knew his manners were abominable. All in all, Serena decided, he was a man not worthy of her attention.

* * *

At last the evening was over and Serena accompanied her brother and sister-in-law to the hall. It was crowded and noisy, and the servants announcing whose carriage was at the door were obliged to bellow over the chatter of the guests. There was much pushing and shoving and Henry guided his ladies to one side, away from the throng.

‘It’s like a dashed cattle market,’ he muttered. ‘Whatever persuaded Grindlesham to invite so many? And that reminds me.’ He turned a frowning gaze upon Serena. ‘I saw you talking to Forsbrook earlier. Who introduced you to him?’

Serena spread her hands. ‘I really cannot recall, but it is impossible to avoid such introductions in town.’

‘I suppose you are right,’ he agreed grudgingly, ‘but he’s a dashed Lothario and you’d be advised to stay away from him.’

‘Indeed, you would,’ added Dorothea. ‘He has the most unsavoury reputation.’

‘What of it?’ Serena countered. ‘Most gentlemen in London have an unsavoury reputation. Even Russ, before his marriage.’

Henry scowled. ‘That was different. Forsbrook is an out-and-out libertine. Russ was never that.’