The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

Choosing not to reply, Vane mounted the steps, offered the butler his calling card and simply said, “Marquess of Trevane and Viscount Farleigh,” before moving past the flustered servant.

Within minutes of entering the ballroom, gentlemen directed shocked and scornful glances their way, appalled at their inappropriate choice of dress.

“The disrespect of it,” one gentleman muttered while sucking in his cheeks.

Some ladies cared not and drew closer, using the language of their fan to convey many messages: follow me, touch me, kiss me, do anything you damn well like to me.

It did not take long for one of them to pounce.

“Lord Trevane.” Lady Barlow, a young widow of some notoriety, curtsied in such a way as to offer up her bountiful breasts. “What a pleasure it is to find you here.” She moistened her lips. “I fear the evening has been rather tedious so far. That is unless you enjoy hearing tales of sea monsters and frosty nether regions.”

“Sea monsters and frosty nether regions,” Vane repeated in a slow drawl. “I’m afraid both are foreign to me. But I shall see what I can do to create some excitement tonight.” He meant in taunting Cornell, but the lady took it to mean something far more salacious.

“Should you wish to take some air and explore nature’s offerings, I’m told the garden has a couple of delights to behold.”

Farleigh sighed and feigned interest in those dancing the quadrille.

“There’s a hothouse,” Lady Barlow said in a seductive lilt as she continued trailing a finger along the neckline of her gown. “You may want to slip inside and experience its pleasures for yourself.”

“Thank you, Lady Barlow. I shall bear that in mind. Of course, a man must first pay homage to the host before he partakes in the entertainment provided.”

A coy smile played on the lady’s lips. “Then you’ll find Cornell in the library examining etchings with a host of other ancient bores.”

Vane inclined his head, and the lady sauntered away. He turned to Farleigh. “Will you wait here while I speak to Cornell?”

“Lord no. At the rate ladies approach you, it will take an hour to cross the room unless I hurry you along.”

Clearly, Farleigh despised these events just as much as Vane.

The library door was open. A group of men stood huddled around a large walnut desk, their heads bowed as they stared and pointed at a creased map. Cornell neglected to notice them at first, and so Vane cleared his throat.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Forgive the intrusion, but I wonder if I might ask a question?” He did not wait for a nod of approval. “Did Colonel Preston sight the Peninsula or was he fortunate enough to dock and set foot on land?”

Cornell swung around, affronted at the interruption until his insipid grey eyes settled on Vane. The snake’s skin slithered over his jaw as he struggled to decide what expression to wear.

“I only ask,” Vane continued, “as my brother-in-law commands numerous vessels and is keen to capture overweight mammals with a view to exploring how they might survive away from their natural habit.”

Vane and Lord Cornell were the only men in the room who knew that Fabian had kidnapped the plump lord in the middle of the night, stripped him naked and tied him to the railings as a warning never to harm Lillian again.

A gentleman with a tiny mouth and wiry white hair stepped forward. His dry skin and red nose led Vane to conclude this was Colonel Preston. “The question we should ask is how do these large mammals behave in their own environment?”

“I imagine all species are alike.” Vane stared down his nose at the quivering Lord Cornell. “The males are manipulated by the females. Those males not considered the alpha of the species must resort to cunning tactics to get what they want.”

Preston rubbed his jaw while considering Vane’s point. “What you describe are human traits. I am not certain the same applies to all levels of the animal kingdom.”

“Weak animals will always look for ways to fool their predators. It is a case of kill or be killed. Do you not agree, Lord Cornell?”

Cornell’s eyes widened. “Well … yes.”

“Problems arise when the alpha grows wise to these tactics and knows he must act quickly to put the runts in their place.” Vane ran his tongue over his teeth. “Usually with a bite to the jugular.”

Cornell gulped and fiddled with the gold fobs on his watch chain.

“But please forgive the interruption.” Vane inclined his head to Colonel Preston. “I came merely to congratulate the colonel on a successful voyage. Good evening, gentlemen.”

Vane strode from the room. Once out in the corridor, he stopped and sucked in a breath.

“Well, I’m impressed,” Farleigh said, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “I expected you to drag the lord out by his fancy cravat and beat him to a pulp.”