Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

A small kernel of doubt rose up into her throat.

She reached for the gloved hand suspended in the doorway and the moment she grasped it she knew it was Tobias’. His grip firmed, distracting her from her worries.

She wriggled her fingers loose once she was firmly on the ground and waited for Mercy to join them.

“Thank you, Leopold,” Mercy whispered. “Lady Venables, shall we go in?”

Together they swept up the staircase, arm in arm, leaving the gentlemen to follow in their wake. She handed off her things to the waiting servants and then they were announced.

“Her Grace, the Duchess of Romsey, Lady Venables, Mr. Leopold Randall, and Mr. Tobias Randall.”

The usual hush swept before them and then the whispers started, fanning out to the far reaches of the room. Heads bobbed high over others to gawk. At them. At her.

“This is as bad as a cattle sale,” Leopold muttered.

“I was just thinking of a whalers hold after a long voyage,” Tobias replied dryly. “Stank just as bad, too.”

Another ripple of conversation swirled from those standing closest and Blythe held her head high. More comments like that, however accurate, might turn the tide firmly against Tobias. She really didn’t want him to be on the outside of society from his first night. He might never recover to be well received anywhere.

Their hosts, who’d been absent from the door rushed forward and fawned over Mercy. “My dear duchess, we feared you’d had a change of heart.”

Mercy smiled. “Forgive me for our tardy arrival. I was distracted by the duke this evening. He wanted to speak of frogs, of all things. I do hope he doesn’t wish to be a naturalist when he grows. He has far more important things to look forward to, after all.”

The crowd around them twittered at her remark, and the mood around them changed to one of pleasure again.

After a time, Blythe’s stepson, Venables, came forward. He acknowledged Blythe with a quick glance then turned his attention to Mercy. “Your Grace, such a pleasure to see you again.”

“Lord Venables, it’s always nice to be seen. It’s been so long since you’ve visited the district that I considered you’d never return.” Mercy’s smile was as fraudulent as her words. “May I introduce you to the new additions to my party? May I present Mr. Leopold Randall and Mr. Tobias Randall, both newly returned to Romsey.”

“More Randall’s, heh?” He looked about him. “Soon we will be overrun.”

“That is my hope, too. Life is much more lively with family underfoot. I do prefer it. Mr. Leopold Randall has asked me to marry him and I have accepted gladly.”

Another deafening rush of whispers rose around them. Mercy’s statement had effectively put paid to any wild rumors about the match. Now they knew it for a fact.

Venables skin changed an unhealthy shade of grey. “Married?”

“Yes, married or soon will be. I am quite looking forward to it. Would you excuse us? I simply must visit with Miss Emma Trimble.”

Mercy smiled at Leopold, and he came forward to offer his arm. When she took it, another whisper swept the chamber and together they swept onward.

Venables grabbed Blythe’s arm and held her back. “Who is this fellow she’s been convinced to wed?”

Blythe stared down at her stepson’s hand until he released her. “Not that you hold much store in tender emotions, but he is the man who captured her heart. Isn’t it a wonderful development that she has fallen in love again?”

“Of course, of course” he said quickly, but he didn’t look at all pleased.

When Venables took his leave, claiming to see an old acquaintance across the room, Blythe was glad to see him go. He hadn’t mentioned their lack of servants and that was a blessing. He also hadn’t noticed the absence of Adam’s things and she didn’t want to have a conversation about either topic in a crowded ballroom with every gossiping ear within hearing range.

Her gown moved as Tobias stepped up to her side. His face offered no clue as to what he was thinking. She snapped out her fan and waved it before her face. “Shall we rejoin the duchess?”

His gaze moved to the crowd where Venables stood. “Charming family you have there. Not even a polite greeting.” His lips lifted in an easy smile. “I am at your service, my lady.”

Two paces forward, their progress was halted by the bulk of Lord Archibald blocking the way. He reached for Blythe’s hand without asking and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “A pleasure to see you again, my lady. You look,” his gaze swept over her gown, “utterly breathtaking this evening.” His voice held an unfamiliar rasp and, disconcerted by his behavior, she reclaimed her hand quickly.

“Lord Archibald.” She gestured toward Tobias. “I am sure you remember Mr. Randall.”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Archibald said without warmth. The men shook hands, but it was the briefest of contact possible.