Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

She glanced over Emma’s shoulder and spotted him, lingering beside the balcony doors, appearing ready to make an escape. His face was carved in grave lines; no trace of his usual smile. Since he wore a serious expression so rarely, Blythe fought the urge to roll her eyes. Actions of that nature were not ladylike, but so tempting when it came to him.

“Lady Venables.”

Blythe turned to find herself surrounded by a dozen figures, men she knew ranging in age from her own to far older. “Gentlemen,” she greeted them nervously.

Lord Shaw stepped close. “Might I have the pleasure of the next dance, if you are not otherwise engaged?”

“Might I secure the supper dance from you tonight?” another asked.

“I’d like to request a set as well, my lady.”

Blythe gasped. She’d not expected to have a full card tonight and there were more gentlemen standing before her than were sets in the evening. She accepted those she could, but there were not enough set in the evening to satisfy them all. A few gentlemen left disappointed.

When she glanced at Emma, her friend’s expression was bleak. “They all asked you to dance with them, but none asked me. Even the ones you disappointed.”

“I cannot account for it, but I’m sure there is an explanation.”

Emma’s gaze dipped to Blythe’s gown, her eyes narrowing. “There is an explanation. That dress. Excuse me. I should go join the wallflowers where I belong.” She broke away and disappeared into the crowd.

Blythe started after her, but Tobias stepped into her path. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly.

“No. Yet I do intend to say a few words when I dance with Lord Archibald later. He should have asked Miss Trimble to dance.”

“The man should be shaking in his boots.” Tobias smiled suddenly. “I’m still waiting for my punishment and just thinking about it makes me unreasonably cold. Care to soothe me again?”

Rather than lecture him about his comment, Blythe returned her attention to the earlier event. “What happened in the carriage?”

He sighed heavily, amusement draining from his face. “Not now, B. I’ve almost found my sense of humor again. Let the matter rest.”

She studied his face. He did look more like his usual self, but she could still remember the tremble in his hand. “For now I will, but you owe me an explanation as compensation for my crushed fingers.”

“After supper.” He nodded toward the crowd. “Right now, I believe you have another swain come to beg a dance of you. Try not to break too many hearts, my lady.”

He stepped back with a laugh just as Lord Palmister joined her and promptly asked for a set, a slow one that suited his stiff knee, he joked. Blythe had to decline. Her card was full. It had been many years since she’d danced all night. She wasn’t sure if she was up to it.

Seventeen

Leopold handed Tobias a drink. “You know, Mercy talks about Blythe as if she’s a saint but by the looks of her tonight, her halo has been left behind. Watch over her, will you?”

Tobias sipped and discovered punch in his glass. Where was the whiskey when he needed it? “She’s not our sister for me to have the right to watch over her without talk.”

“No. But she will be mine soon enough.” He shook his head. “Why come out of mourning now? This is the worst possible time. We’re going to be besieged with suitors at the abbey.”

Tobias choked on his drink. “She might be out of mourning, but who said she’s aiming for another husband?”

Leopold swallowed his drink and swapped it for another. “That dress does. If she was the type to take a casual lover I wouldn’t worry so much. But those men around her have determined expressions. Each is hoping she favors them. None, according to Mercy, would have honorable intentions. They’re likely betting on who’ll get into her bed first. I may have to break some heads.”

Tobias clenched the glass in his hand. She’d be in his bed or none. He quickly downed the glass. Where had that possessive thought come from? He lusted after Blythe certainly. But anything else was impossible, unadvisable and definitely bad for Blythe’s reputation. “I need a stronger drink.”

“The card room has whiskey I’m led to believe,” Leopold murmured. “I’ll take the first watch until supper. You can take over then.”

Yes, definitely a stronger drink was required to get through the evening. “I have a dance with Blythe before supper.”

Leopold slapped his shoulder. “Excellent. That makes things even simpler. Just shadow her for the rest of the evening and keep the scoundrels at bay until we leave.”

Easier said than done. He might just be the worst scoundrel in attendance tonight for all the things he wanted to do with her. He took one last look and then edged out of the ballroom. He’d find the whiskey, and then maybe a nice quiet corner to get drunk in.

As he crossed the foyer, he heard a woman sniffling. Although he peered around, he could detect no trace of her. Mind you, if he was crying at a ball, he’d want to remain hidden, too. He entered the card room, plucked a promising looking glass from a footman and downed the contents. Ah, sweet whiskey. A balm for his bad mood.