Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Although he found cards interesting, he kept to the sidelines. Far too rich for his blood and his pockets would never be deep enough for such play. He shook his head. Why gamble when you have nothing?

He listened to the conversation of the two gentlemen closest.

“Prime if you ask me.”

“Sensible,” the other advised. “She won’t demand a man stand on his head and hand over a fortune for her favors.”

The two shared a long look and broke out into wide grins. “It’s a bet.”

They turned as one for the ballroom.

Tobias drained two more glasses as he told himself that both men could not have been referring to Blythe. Unfortunately, he couldn’t entirely convince himself.

Too restless to remain still, he sauntered from the room in search of a new distraction. Again, soft sniffling reached him, but this time he stopped. A lady was

truly distressed to be still crying like this. Despite his best interests being to ignore the sound, he couldn’t. Perhaps he could be of help.

He took the stairs two at a time until he stood on the first landing. He scanned the shadowed alcove above. A glint of gem struck by moonlight. He climbed the rest of the way, and stopped a few yards from the weeping woman. Her head rose and he discovered Miss Emma Trimble in tears. “Are you all right, Miss Trimble?”

She gasped and fell back in shock. “Where did you come from?”

“I heard crying and came to investigate.” He edged a little closer. “Should I send Lady Venables to you?”

Miss Trimble sobbed. “You can’t. She’s dancing with Mr. Smedly Pierce now.”

“Perhaps after she’s done with him?”

Miss Trimble’s bottom lip trembled. “Then she’s to dance with Lord Parker.”

Blythe’s full dance card did pose a problem to engaging in conversation with her. He glanced down the staircase to check that they remained unobserved and moved closer to Miss Trimble. “Why are you sitting up here, crying on your own?”

Despite her tears, Miss Trimble scowled. “Well, I wouldn’t cry in the middle of the ballroom, would I? People would gossip in the most horrendous fashion.”

Tobias sighed. “I can see why you and the countess get along so well. Why are you crying, girl?”

Miss Trimble sniffed some more. “I am crying because my dance card is empty of names for the rest of the evening, save yours. Even Lady Venables has more sets claimed.”

“Ah,” Tobias said softly. “Then I am the luckiest of men.”

Miss Trimble stared at him and her smile broadened.

Engaging in conversation, alone with Miss Trimble, could give rise to a scandal if they were discovered. That could be one way to short cut the courtship except, then he would be winning a wife without any effort on his part. That thought didn’t settle well with him.

He took a pace toward the top step. “I must return to the ballroom before we are noticed, but I have a question for you before I go that may lighten your mood. When was the last time Lady Venables danced?”

Miss Trimble wiped her hands over her cheeks. “Oh, not since she was widowed. Oh,” the girl whispered as realization dawned.

Blythe had been a spectator on the sidelines for years and in Tobias’ opinion it was about time she had a little harmless fun. “Exactly. She is finally enjoying herself as she hasn’t since her husband died. Try to be a little understanding and happy for her. Imagine what standing on the sidelines for a few years might feel like and then decide if you should be crying over her success. Until our dance, Miss Trimble.”

He moved down a few steps.

“Sir, wait.”

He paused. “Yes, Miss Trimble.”

“Thank you. You’ve made me feel so much better about tonight.”

Tobias nodded and returned to the ballroom, his gaze drawn to Blythe as she twirled about the dance floor. He did like to see her happy. He craved her smiles. But as he looked around he spied those two gentlemen, and he used the term loosely, watching Blythe with predatory smiles.