Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Richard took Tina’s hand in his as if it was something utterly priceless. Isabelle was speaking again, something about Mr. Freer being rather smitten with Margaret Allsop, but her voice seemed to fade into the far distance, and next thing Richard had led her onto the floor, and they were swirling around in a haze of candlelight and color.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the room.” It was no polite compliment; he meant it, she could tell, and her heart fluttered.

When he held her close, Tina felt like the most beautiful woman in the room—in the world. She flowed into his arms. She felt overpowered by emotion and longing; surely, everyone here could see how she felt? And yet she didn’t care, she wanted to stay like this forever, encircled by his arms, their bodies together and moving with the music.

Tina had danced with many men tonight but not like this. This one felt right. This was perfection.

And all too brief. Moments later the dance was over, and John Little claimed her, and she had no choice but to thank Richard and walk away from him as if she weren’t miserable about it.

She had seen less of Mr. Little this

weekend than she’d expected, and on the occasions she had seen him, he’d appeared preoccupied. But now he was his usual quiet and polite self, a little too quiet perhaps, as if he were counting his dance steps.

“I’m sorry Sir Thomas and Lady Carol aren’t here, Miss Smythe.”

“No, they are otherwise engaged.”

Dealing with the bailiffs.

“So you said. I enjoyed their hospitality. I am not always shown such kindness.”

“But sir, surely no one is ever unkind to you?”

He smiled. “You are a sweet young lady, but you must know there is a great deal of unkindness in polite society. Particularly to someone of my standing.”

“Mr. Little, you are a gentleman.”

“I am, but I am also in trade, and the two are not considered compatible. And although I was born a gentleman, my circumstances have not always been as I might have wished.”

The music stopped and he looked so sad and Tina felt so sorry for him that instead of walking away she lingered.

They were near the doors leading to the garden. “Perhaps some fresh air, Miss Smythe?” he asked hopefully.

Tina allowed herself to be led outside.

“I didn’t mean to distress you with old grievances, Miss Smythe,” he said. “The past is just that. I have moved on.”

They walked along the terrace. An urn stood on the steps, and a fountain twinkled. Tina caught sight of a couple in the shadows, and noted Lady Isabelle’s bright hair. The next moment she heard her hostess’s voice, rising shrilly in the still evening air.

“No, Vincenzo, I cannot. You know I cannot.”

John Little had heard too and was looking in the same direction.

They could see Signor Veruda hovering over her, trying to hold her back, but the next moment Isabelle broke free and ran, blundering between them as if she didn’t even know they were there, her face a white and tear-stained blur. Behind her Signor Veruda stood staring after her, his expression one of terrible unhappiness, and then he seemed to collect himself. He gave a brief bow in their direction, before he turned and vanished into the shadows.

“Unfortunate,” John Little said. He had taken out a cigar and was making moves to light it. The scene had made Tina uncomfortable, and she decided it was time to go back inside. “I think we might return to the ballroom, Mr. Little.”

“Are you sure?” He sounded disappointed.

“I believe it’s almost time for supper.”

She was pleased to see her brother and Anne approaching and moved to join them.

“Nearly time for food, sis. I could eat a horse.”

“I do hope they won’t serve up the horses, Charles.”

He laughed. “No, probably not, but I am hungry. All that dancing.”