Although not embracing, they were standing close together—or rather the lady was standing before the gentleman. Her position offered Ash a view of her profile, so he could see that her delicate jaw was set while her hands were tightly clenched.
It did not appear to be a romantic tryst but a confrontation, he decided. He could overhear her low, impassioned voice imploring the viscount, although the noise from the chattering, dancing throng behind him drowned out most of her words.
Ash moved a step closer just as a momentary lull in the music brought Miss Collyer’s urgent declaration to him.
“Emperor did not belong to her, I tell you! She had no right to sell him to you.”
“I have a legal deed of sale that says otherwise,” Deering responded in an arrogant drawl that evidently grated on her nerves.
The beauty inhaled a deep breath as if she were trying to maintain control of her emotions. “Then allow me to buy him back.… Please.”
“You cannot afford my price, Miss Collyer.”
“I can raise the funds somehow. I will sell the entire stables if I must.”
When Deering laughed in that supercilious way of his, Ash felt the same grating irritation.
He knew Rupert Firth, Viscount Deering fairly well. Of similar ages, they had attended Cambridge at the same time. And like Ash, Deering had dark curling hair, a noble title, and a significant fortune. But there the similarities ended. Most notably, the viscount was a head shorter, with a body that was turning to flab from an overindulgence of fine port wine.
Ash had never liked Deering, mainly because of his attitude of snide superiority. That dislike only increased as the discussion continued.
“I might be persuaded … for a price,” Deering said with a smirk that made Ash itch to intervene.
“What price?” Miss Collyer asked warily.
In answer, the nobleman reached out and trailed a languid finger along her bare throat to the low neckline of her gown.
When she visibly gritted her teeth, Ash felt some satisfaction that she wasn’t soliciting the viscount’s advances, far from it. Yet he was surprised by his own violent reaction: The urge to wrap his hands around Deering’s throat speared through him.
Then Deering gave a low, seductive laugh that raised his ire even further.
“I see you take my meaning, Miss Collyer. If you are truly interested in regaining your property, you will accommodate my wishes. You are quite lovely. I find I want you almost as much as I wanted your magnificent stallion.”
Flinching, she took a step backward, out of reach, distaste written in every line of her face. “I regret I must decline your proposition, my lord.”
“You should realize that beggars cannot be choosers.”
“I am not a beggar quite yet, Lord Deering.”
The viscount moved closer, but she stood her ground. When his fingers covered her breast and squeezed, Ash took a reflexive step toward them.
But Maura Collyer evidently did not need defending, for she brought her heel down hard on the viscount’s instep. Even with her soft evening slippers, the impact must have hurt.
It did, if the viscount’s pained growl was any indication.
“Your stubbornness reminds me of your damned father!” he ground out through his teeth. “I could not persuade him to sell, but I found a way to win in the end. Your stepmother was far more accommodating.”
For a moment Miss Collyer froze, her expression one of devastation. Only then did Ash recall the bad blood between her family and the viscount. Deering had accused her father of cheating at cards two years ago, but Noah Collyer had died before the matter could be resolved.
When Deering reached for her breast again, she broke out of her paralysis with ferocity. Uttering an audible curse, she brought her knee up to contact the viscount’s satin breeches at an especially vulnerable point.
Deering gave a harsh groan and doubled over, clutching his ballocks. Then Maura stamped down on his other instep for good measure.
Ash didn’t know which of his emotions was strongest just then—amusement, admiration, or anger.
Amusement because he’d wanted to do the same thing to Deering for years.
Admiration because very few females outside those in his own family had the spirit or courage to engage in a physical brawl with a significantly larger man.