There was enough about her to admire already with out adding in her quiet dignity and courage. Luke said with a sinful smile, “Don’t worry, my lady. I will make the scandal worth your while.”
Chapter Thirteen
H
ow far
, Miles asked himself grimly,
does my duty as chaperone extend?
When he missed a step and nearly trod on his partner’s toes, he did his best to jerk his attention back to the matter at hand, which was finishing a dance with the daughter of one of his stepfather’s friends. Miss Furnish was blond, pretty, but unfortunately insipid, and, as far as he could tell, giggled after each word she spoke, God help him. Not even for the benefit of having another investor in his fledgling company could he endure a second waltz.
He was grateful when the music ended, for a myriad of reasons, and not all of them to do with his unappealing current partner.
What the devil was Elizabeth doing?
The answer was, of course, that she had no idea Peter Thomas was fast growing into his father’s reputation for vice and extravagance, and what little fortune was left in the family coffers, he was studiously frittering away as fast as possible at gaming and in brothels. At the latter, rumor had it, he was known as Naughty Peter, for a pro pensity for enjoying being spanked. All Elizabeth saw, unfortunately, were blond curls, blue eyes, and a courtly manner.
To say Miles detested the man was putting it mildly, and if Luke had still been in attendance, Miles was sure there would be discreet interference on a
third
dance with the winsome Lord Peter. But Luke wasn’t still there, and the problem was, if Miles showed the smallest trace of disapproval, he was worried Elizabeth would find the young scoundrel even more appealing.
Lady Altea, whom he always referred to informally as Aunt Suzette, was with her usual retinue of friends. He managed to shoulder his way through the milling guests to her corner, plastering his most charming smile on his face as he greeted the somewhat intimidating phalanx of matrons, and drew his aunt aside. “Do you really think Elizabeth should be so conspicuously in the company of Peter Thomas this evening?”
“He’s the son of a duke,” she replied, as if that ab solved the subject of Miles’s concern from his consider able sins.
“The debauched son of a duke,” Miles explained, knowing he couldn’t go into detail. It wasn’t gentlemanly to explain about another man’s gambling habit, and he wasn’t about to mention Thomas’s penchant for whores and his peculiar fetishes to his aunt, no less.
Still,
something
had to be done.
Suzette Daudet was still a beauty even in middle age, and Luke had inherited his coloring from her, while Eliz abeth more resembled the late viscount. Miles thought his aunt frivolous at times, but from long acquaintance knew she was more astute than she appeared. Her eyes narrowed slightly and then she sighed. “I recognize that look. Men are all alike. You know something not in his favor you are reluctant to tell me.”
“You could say that.” He wished he could be frank, but he just couldn’t. “At the least his family fortunes are depleted. That is common enough knowledge. Elizabeth shouldn’t be married for her dowry. She would realize it eventually and be furious.”
And hurt. He knew well that would hurt her gravely. If Miles couldn’t have her, at least she should marry someone who deserved her, damn all. He wanted her, but he also wanted her happy.
“I’ll go interfere.” Aunt Suzette patted his arm. “It is very dear of you to worry over Elizabeth.”
“I’m not worried,” he said defensively, quite certain no male enjoyed being called dear. “I’m just ...”
She waited with a small lift of her brows for him to finish.
Oh, hell, yes, he
was
worried. The idea of Elizabeth fulfilling her fondest wish and falling desperately in love kept him awake at night. Naturally, he wished he would be the object of her plunge into romantic devotion, but so far he was fairly sure she was oblivious to his true feelings.
It was
not
going to be a depraved twit like Peter Thomas.
“Last I saw, they were over there.” He discreetly pointed. “I admit to some concern he was going to try to convince her to step out onto the terrace with him.”
That raised alarm, and Suzette hurried off in a rustle of lavender silk. He followed at a more leisurely pace, covertly observing as his aunt neatly linked her arm through Elizabeth’s, murmured something undoubtedly much more polite than Thomas deserved, and drew her daughter away.
Vigilant but trying to stay unobtrusive, Miles didn’t dance again. Instead he loitered on the edge of the crowd until their departure. He watched Elizabeth smile and flirt, and by the time his aunt asked him to summon the carriage, his jaw hurt because he’d clenched it most of the evening and he almost trampled a hapless footman that accidentally stepped in his way through the foyer, his muttered apology more of a curse over his distraction.
Therefore, the rousing argument once they all got in the carriage was probably not a huge surprise, given his fractious mood.
Elizabeth had a certain way of bestowing a wither ing look that Miles was fairly sure was reserved for him alone, a sort of cross between a scowl and a glare. “I un derstand Lord Peter doesn’t meet with your royal ap proval,” she said, settling into the seat across, her tone sweetly accusing. A vision in a low cut gown of ivory lace over a peach underskirt, her glossy hair artfully ar ranged so several long, dark ringlets fell over the curve of her bare shoulder from her chignon, it was no wonder she’d been swamped with partners all evening.
“That isn’t at all what I said,” his aunt protested, looking at her daughter in reproof as they pulled away from the ducal mansion in Mayfair. “I merely stated that Miles felt it prudent you not allow yourself to be mo nopolized by Lord Peter Thomas.”
“Since when is Miles’s judgment of what is prudent the standard against which polite behavior is mea sured?” Elizabeth leveled another scathing look in his direction. “Last I knew,
his
name was attached to some questionable females. Like, for instance, a certain very young countess married to a very old earl, who likes to entertain herself with unattached young men.”
His aunt gasped outright. “Elizabeth!”
Immediately Elizabeth’s face took on high color, but her gaze was unwavering. “It
is
what I heard, and if he is criticizing my behavior, perhaps we can examine his.”
The charge was close enough to the truth that an infu riating heat filled his face too. He’d been more pursued than pursuer, but he wasn’t aware so much of the gossip was widespread enough that it had reached her innocent ears. Still he hadn’t taken the countess to bed, and not because the lady wasn’t willing either. He found his love for Elizabeth a detriment to casual affairs, and all he was guilty of was harmless flirtation. “My reputation isn’t the issue,” he said stiffly. “And this is hardly a contest.”
“I danced with a man in plain sight of hundreds of people. My reputation isn’t an issue either.”
“Ask Luke if he doesn’t agree with me on the suitabil ity of Peter Thomas as a possible suitor.” Let her brother formulate the diplomatic answer. If Miles was certain of anything in this life, he knew Luke would agree with him in this case.
“A sound reason for your suggesting my mother drag me away in front of everyone would be nice.”
She was right, but he was right also, and the impasse was an irritant. “I know things about him you don’t.”
There was the usual challenge in her eyes. “Then tell me.”
He’d used an unfortunate explanation. She detested him knowing anything she didn’t. Besides, the gossip truly wasn’t something he would repeat to her. “No.”
“Then forgive me if I don’t lend a lot of weight to your objections, not that what you think makes much of a difference anyway.”
“Elizabeth,” Suzette said in firm admonishment, her outraged gaze having gone back and forth as the vol ley of exchanges began. “Miles has no motive at all to object to anyone who shows interest in you except your well being. I think you are being singularly ungracious about this.”
Hopefully his inward flinch wasn’t visible. He had the most compelling motive of all to object to any man who might court Elizabeth, but then again, he
was
trying to protect her, he reminded himself quickly. Hands down, Thomas was an objectionable man.
“Ask Luke about Peter Thomas,” he said shortly. “I refuse to discuss it any further.”
He
refused
.
Male arrogance made her want to scream. Elizabeth stared at Miles, wondering if she wrapped his cravat around his throat and strangled him, if it would make her feel better.
Probably, she guessed.
The truth was, she had come to the conclusion her self that Lord Peter was being rather too deliberately charming. Maybe she was young and her experience with society limited to the few months since her debut, but she possessed a perfectly functioning brain and could separate real interest from calculated flirtation. The only reason she’d danced with him three times was that he happened to be amusing company and an excel lent partner. There was nothing more to it.
She hardly needed
Miles
to interfere. “Very well. But let me say this—”
The man sitting across from her, his long legs extended, thick lashes half lowered over his eyes, gave a low, the atrical groan and interrupted, “I knew you wouldn’t let it go, El. Lord, do we have to continue this? We disagree yet again. I said my piece. Now let us set it aside.”
“I’m not an empty headed doll, Miles,” she snapped, ignoring his suggestion. “I am perfectly capable of mak ing my own decisions, and that includes whom I wish to dance with and how many times.”
“You may think so, but this evening doesn’t exactly bear out that supposition.” His voice was infuriatingly mild. “Tell me: did he try to persuade you to go outside with him?”
The man in question had. Twice, with an offer of fresh air and a starlit sky. At her hesitation, Miles muttered, “Aha. I thought so.”
“I refused.” Elizabeth quelled the unladylike impulse to slap the smug look off his handsome face. “So don’t act as if butting your nose in made any difference in my evening, except to humiliate me by having my mother so pointedly drag me off.”
“I’d hardly call that humiliation.” One of his dark brows lifted and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Rest assured, the next time you dance with someone
I
dislike, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“You are terribly defensive about this, aren’t you?”
“And you are terribly presumptuous, aren’t
you
?”
“Good heavens,” her mother interjected firmly in unconcealed exasperation. “That’s enough. Miles is a grown man and he may dance with whomever he wishes without your comments, Elizabeth. I, for one, appreciate his concerned interest.”
Meddling
was more the appropriate term, but Elizabeth bit back another sarcastic comment out of deference for her mother, and sat in silence the rest of the way home, listening to the clatter of the wheels on the street. A wry sense of inner amusement began to assert itself by the time they rocked to a halt and a footman hastened to open the door of the carriage. Perhaps her reaction
had
been a bit childish for someone so convinced she was mature enough to judge a man’s character on short acquaintance, but then again, Miles had a tendency to ignite combustible reactions when they argued, which happened to be often.
Not that she hadn’t sensed Peter Thomas might have ulterior motives to go along with his flattering attentions, so she was right about being able to discern for herself—in his case anyway—the nature of his pursuit. But, she grudgingly admitted as she allowed Miles to politely lift her from the carriage, that meant he was right, too.
It was odd, but even when they quarreled over something, they usually basically agreed. It had always been that way between them.
“Truce?” he asked softly, his hands lingering at her waist as he looked down into her face.
How many times have we said that word to each other?
she wondered. However, he wasn’t that young boy who had tripped her in the mud, or suggested they sneak off to wade in the river when their nanny had specifically forbidden it. The starlight showed off the nicely shaped line of jaw and the arch of his brows, and though his golden eyes didn’t hold a hint of apology, she usually found it impossible to stay angry with him anyway.
“Truce.” Elizabeth nodded, suddenly aware of the warmth of his palms through the material of her gown. “If you’ll tell me why Lord Peter is such an undesirable match.”
“Never.” He dropped his hands, his expression suddenly closed. “Not for your ears, El, trust me.”
“You aren’t even three years older than I am.” The exasperation was evident in her tone. “Why is it you get to know this obviously defamatory information, and I don’t?”