Royal Regard Read Online Free Page B

object of his
attention had just said in conversation, Lady Yarley and Lady
Lannadae looked to be on the verge of a synchronized swoon.
    Nockham rolled his eyes at Nick’s obvious
distraction. “Did you not meet her when she was in England?”
    “I have never seen her before in my life.” If
he had, Nick would have bedded her long before now.
    Nick didn’t take up with a man’s wife every
Season. On occasion, he engaged a paid companion or kept a mistress
in the demi-monde, but he seduced men’s spouses often enough to be
known for it. With no inclination toward marriage, logic dictated
he choose women who couldn’t ask it of him. His lovers were always
worldly, with plenty to lose and no intention of losing it. He
would rather remove his own feet with a penknife than dance with
anyone in the marriage mart.
    The coterie of women circling his sister was
becoming unruly. Girls laughed aloud against their mother’s
whispered admonishments; dowagers made half-accurate pronouncements
about Nick’s lifetime of debauchery; the female chattering became
so noisy, Nick could almost hear the married women and widows
discussing the cut of his breeches. He was surprised none of the
hostesses had made her displeasure known, though Lady Sefton was
eying him with an unquestionable glower and the orchestra had
increased in volume.
    Looking away from the melee, he saw Malbourne
bowing over Lady Holsworthy’s hand. He nearly upset a chair in his
haste to attend her before the ingratiating Frenchman danced with
her first. Unfortunately, Nockham grabbed his arm before he could
make his escape.
    Forcing a laugh for the benefit of those
nearby, Nockham hissed, “You. Are. Staying. Here. If you refuse the
girls Allie has chosen so you can chase yet another man’s wife, you
will tell her the reason why.”
    Nick wrenched his arm away and straightened
the offensive lace, asking caustically, “Wagered on my prospects,
have you?”
    “I lost a monkey when Lady Cecily set her cap
for you last year, and have declined to enter into the continuing
fray. You are more stubborn than I credited, but at nearly fifty,
you should be married with ten children, like the rest of us poor
chaps.”
    “I am but six-and-forty, and you have only
four children.”
    When Baron Holsworthy appeared by his wife’s
side with the Marquess of Firthley, preceded by whispers throughout
the building, Nick remembered why he had wanted to meet her in the
first place, which had nothing to do with her fascinating face and
remarkable, sunrise-tinted hair.
    Eight hours earlier, during extended
discussion among the king and a handful of other noblemen, Nick had
played a very small part in the baron’s probable elevation to earl
and Privy Councilor, inspiring him to further an acquaintance with
both man and wife. When asked, he had opined that the elevation was
only Holsworthy’s due, having made billions of pounds for two
monarchs and many members of Court in nearly a half-century of
service to the Crown. Not to mention many mysterious missions among
the heathens of the world as His Majesty’s ambassador and spy.
    Lady Holsworthy’s chin jutted out, shoulders
straightened, and voice resonated across the ballroom, “I don’t
give a tuppenny damn for the way of things in London!”
    Nick choked on his laugh and almost spilled
his champagne, interest growing by the minute. If not for His
Majesty openly pondering whether Lady Holsworthy should be made a
countess in her own right, she had just ruined herself utterly. An
assignation with Nick could hardly make things worse.
    Someone in her foursome must have said
something amusing, for Lady Holsworthy’s distinctive laugh rang out
like a too-loud clock chime ringing just slightly earlier than the
hour, causing another ripple of turned heads and titters across the
ballroom.
    Lines were forming for a contredanse ,
but Lords Firthley and Holsworthy left their wives alone,
presumably to find the card room. Lady Holsworthy