Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

Tobias nodded carefully. “Gentlemen, to what do I owe the honor?”

“You’re to take yourself away,” Archibald began. “She’s not for the likes of you.”

Wonderful. Archibald really was jealous of any attention bestowed on Miss Trimble. He’d taken his earlier flirtation with his cousin Miss Trimble as a serious intention to pursue her for her heavy dowry. If Archibald was so keen on her, he should have asked her to dance. “Keep your powder dry, she’s already made up her own mind about who she wants.”

The trio circled, cutting him off from the soiree taking place inside.

“Her mind can be changed again,” Lord Archibald growled. “Just stay away from Lady Venables.”

“Lady Venables?” He had to be joking. Surely. Tobias laughed. “You’ve got balls for brains. She . . .”

Archibald’s fist landed in his gut without warning. Tobias fell, stunned by the unexpected blow. Was he going to fight over a woman who didn’t want him? Archibald’s two companions caught his arms and dragged him to his feet while Archibald readied himself to deliver another blow. Apparently Tobias was to have no say in the matter. He refused to be restrained.

Tobias kicked out with both feet, striking Archibald squarely in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Since his arms were held loosely, he continued his flight, flipping over the top of his two assailants before they could stop him. In their surprise, they let go his arms and Tobias grabbed both their heads and whacked them together.

All three remained on the ground, staring at him in shock. He tugged on his coat sleeves and waistcoat to make sure his attire was still in order. The life he’d lived did have its uses. He might have been caught by surprise initially, but he’d never be taken by force again. Lord Archibald pressed a hand his chest, wheezing slightly.

Tobias scowled at him. “Imbecile. Lady Venables still loves her late husband. You'd do better to keep a watch over your own cousin. She’s got her eye on a man to wed, but I don’t think he deserves her affection.”

Tobias spun on his heel and stalked back inside. This is what he’d come home to—idiots and women who didn’t follow through with their unspoken promises. When he returned to his party, he threw a scowl at Blythe where she danced with an older man. This was all her fault. He should have stayed at home guarding the duke rather than sparing with society.

A footman drew near and he took two glasses, ignoring the shocked whispers around him. He downed one glass and then the other. He took a third and fourth from the footman and sent him on his merry way. If Blythe had a problem with his drinking she could go to the devil like everyone else.

~ * ~

Blythe fanned herself as the second last set of the evening ended. What an exhausting night. She’d never been as sought after before. “My dear, you dance like an angel still.”

She smiled at Lord Merrow’s statement, one that matched every other dance partner she’d had tonight, save Tobias. She’d missed a step during their set as she’d spotted Tobias slumped untidily in a chair across the room. “Thank you, my lord. You are very kind. Please give my regards to your wife when next you see her. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken.”

Lord Merrow’s wife was a dear lady, but she hardly ever came to these events. It must be painful to watch her husband ogling each and every dance partner. Blythe knew what Lord Merrow was about. Thanks to Tobias’ warning, she was more alert to her dance partner’s seemingly innocent suggestions that they could take a stroll or get some air on the terrace.

She wasn’t looking for a lover. If she ever did want one, there was one lying in wait for her across the room. She said good night to her partner and then glanced around. Tobias had disappeared again.

She rejoined her sister and Mercy caught her arm and steered her toward the door. “May we go now, my dear? I ache to be home again with Edwin.”

Blythe leaned into her sister. “You should have said something earlier. I could have made my excuses and departed an hour ago. I fear my feet may never recover.”

“So you were much trodden on. Did Tobias do that?”

“No. He danced extremely well.” Surprisingly, out of all of her partners, she’d enjoyed their dance best. She’d known what to expect from his conversation and had been completely at ease with him.

“I thought so, too. I must confess I bullied him into practicing the steps at home. There was much whispering about him tonight and Miss Trimble fairly glowed with joy while they danced.” Mercy sighed happily. “He must have charmed her completely.”

Blythe pressed her lips together and then released them quickly. She shouldn’t show her annoyance that Tobias had made even more of an impression on Emma. She collected her shawl and looped it around her shoulders, her joy in the evening diminishing. When she looked ahead again and found Tobias loitering in the entrance hall. He bowed politely and then fell into step behind her with his brother.

“Where the devil have you been?” Leopold demanded once they had moved out of the butler’s earshot.

“Admiring how better men live,” Tobias replied. “Not a bad little cottage.”

“What’s got into

you tonight? You’ve barely spoken a civil word to anyone since supper.”

Blythe glanced over her shoulder as Tobias shrugged. Their eyes met and he scowled again. Blythe faced forward, hurrying down the staircase to their waiting carriage. The carriage. Dear heavens, he must be on edge at having to enter it again.

Once Mercy had settled inside, Blythe climbed in and took her place, pulling the blanket about her to ward off the chill in the air. Leopold climbed in next and after several moments, Tobias joined them—his breathing already unsteady. What could she do, discreetly, to distract him?

She flicked the coach blanket across his knees and adjusted her shawl tighter about her, inching closer to Tobias as she did so. As she hoped, Tobias’ hand skimmed on her thigh. “May I be of assistance?”