Every Time We Kiss

“I take it you won’t have your footmen toss me out on the streets?”

“Why should I care if you are here? Your reputation doesn’t bother me a bit. If people can’t understand an accident when one happens then I pity them.”

Matthew blinked. This was quite possibly the first time in five years that someone had defended him. What amazed him was the fact that it came from Ancroft. They were barely acquainted with each other. As a second son, Matthew had befriended the less lofty of the ton.

“Besides, I never believed that nonsense about you being in love with her. She isn’t your type of woman.”

“Thank you,” he said softly even as heat crossed his cheeks. He wondered why Ancroft decided she wasn’t Matthew’s type. Five years ago, she’d been everything a man could want in a woman. He scanned the room…Was she here tonight?

He glanced over at Nicholas, who shook his head as if he could read his mind.

“She is not in attendance. They are still at the estate. Although, I believe they will return by week’s end for her birthday ball.”

Matthew gave him a sharp nod and released a breath. He’d forgotten her birthday was in October. But he needn’t worry about that, for a few days at least. Perhaps by the time she returned, he would have a woman to court. Then he would have no need to see her again.

“Come along and I’ll introduce you to a few people.” Nicholas looked around the room. “With whom did you slink in—Somerton?”

“Yes.”

“Crafty scoundrel. He’s always stealing into someone’s party for a chance to play the gaming tables. Damn man always wins, too.”

For the first time in weeks, Matthew laughed.

As he walked the boundary of the dance floor, the whispers followed him. Nicholas stopped beside an older woman dressed in gold satin with a matching turban wrapped snuggly around her head.

“Mrs. Layton, may I introduce Lord Blackburn.”

Without a word, her eyes widened, and then she pursed her lips and walked away. The cut was direct, why was he surprised?

“Well, this may be harder than I assumed,” Nicholas commented. “She’s a haughty bitch and her daughter no better. For a woman whose husband left her a fortune from illegal activities, I would have thought she’d be more open to an introduction.”

If that was the reaction from her, he could only imagine the response from the others. After several more attempts at introductions, Mr. Seymour allowed him to dance with his daughter. He walked to the dance floor with the quaking Miss Sarah Seymour and thought the pale woman might just faint dead away.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” he asked.

She could only nod with her big doe eyes blinking madly. She continually glanced to the side of the dance floor where two young ladies stood watching their every move. They looked as if they might beat him with their fans should he make one improper move.

As they danced, he attempted a few more times to get the mute Miss Sarah to speak. Nothing worked. The poor girl with her watery brown eyes and pale skin appeared scared to death of him. When the dance ended, he quickly returned her to her father without a word.

Tired of the music and overly loud whispers, he headed to the garden. A beautiful full moon lit his way as he avoided the secluded nooks taken by couples looking for a bit of privacy. The soft whispers and moans of the couples only increased his frustration.

It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. He had thought with inheriting the title the ton might have forgotten his reputation. Damn them all. Here he’d done the honorable thing for a friend and no one even knew. Not that he was looking for accolades on being a good friend and chivalrous man.

But could no one see the truth?

Other than the accident, he had been an upstanding citizen. He never seduced an

innocent young lady and rarely even chased the widows. He much preferred the companionship of a steady mistress.

He sat on an iron bench and stared out into the dying garden. Soon all the leaves would be gone, the flowers dead, and he’d still be in this damned situation. After a long talk with his solicitor this afternoon, he knew he had enough money to last until the end of the year. Ten weeks at most. Then the property he legally could let go of would have to be sold. The tenants possibly put out on the street in the middle of winter.

He couldn’t let that happen to them.

To him.

There had to be another way out of this mess. But he had no time. Even if he took a job (as if anyone would hire an earl), the money earned would never cover his expenses.

It was all her fault.