Nathaniel moved through the crowded ballroom towards his sister. Jessica was under siege by a group of young fops, all vying for her attention. No one had quite expected how much of a success she would be this season, except possibly Aunt Jane, who would look just a little smug every time they discussed it. He supposed he should have foreseen it, seeing as she was the daughter and sister of a marquess, beautiful, and with a decent dowry. To think he had to look forward to this two more times... He groaned inwardly.
"Nathaniel." Jessica smiled as he pushed his way past her bevy of suitors. "What brings you to my side?"
"I thought perhaps you would like to take a walk about the room with me."
The group of men surrounding them glared daggers at him for disturbing their time with his sister. He didn't particularly care, and from the relieved look on Jessica's face, neither did she. She looped her hand around his arm.
"Always, Brother." She smiled at her suitors. "Please excuse me, gentlemen. The marquess requires my presence."
A murmur of polite agreement followed them as he turned to walk the edges of the ballroom with Jessica next to him. He considered how to phrase the question he wanted to pose to her. The question he shouldn't even be asking. After kissing Angel, he had done his best to stay away from her, and he'd managed rather well. It was all he could do since he didn't trust himself around her. One taste of her lips, and it was all he could think about. No other woman had occupied his thoughts like this. He didn't like it.
Since returning from the Kilkenny weekend party, he had not even had to put any effort into avoiding her. He had made it clear he was not looking for a wife, and now Angel seemed determined to stay away from him. Which should make him happy, as it made his life easier. But it was doing the opposite. At every social function, he found himself searching the crowd for her face, and once he found her, he spent the remainder of the evening fighting the urge to bring her somewhere secluded to kiss her until she could think of no other man. It was a fool's game, but one he could not stop playing.
Angel Grafton was not for him. She was too dangerous. His reaction to that kiss made that clear. And yet here he was, keeping his sister from her suitors because he could not stop scanning the room for a certain young lady.
"Have you seen Angel?" he asked.
Jessica's eyebrows lifted as she looked up at him. "You want to know if I've seen my friend?"
"Have you?"
"No." She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I spoke briefly to Gowthorpe earlier, and he mentioned she begged off with a headache." Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you asking?"
"I merely wondered." He was rather proud of how disinterested he sounded, though he wasn't sure his sister believed him. "I saw her family arrive and noticed she wasn't with them."
Jessica opened her mouth to say something, so he quickly bowed and left her before she got the chance. He had a feeling he didn't care to hear whatever it was she wanted to tell him. Wanting a moment of privacy, he stepped out onto the terrace and into the garden. He stopped by a small fountain and stared up at the night sky above. What was he doing? He should stay as far away from Angel as possible. But she was a fever in his blood ever since that kiss, and he wanted—no, craved—more.
"Lord Pensington?" a soft voice queried behind him.
He whipped around to find Joan Grant standing a little too close for comfort. Lately, she kept seeking him out, and he knew she had her sight set on making a good match this season. He had no intention of being that match.
"Miss Grant," he said with a quick bow. "I hope you are well."
"I was hoping to speak with you, my lord." A crease marred her otherwise perfectly smooth brow as she looked from side to side. "It's about Angel."
He frowned, a tingle at the back of his neck telling him to watch out. They were alone in the garden with no chaperone. But the possibility of hearing news of Angel kept him where he was.
"What about Miss Grafton?" he said, taking a careful step away from Joan.
She glanced towards the house before giving him a hesitant smile. "Are you enjoying the evening? The weather has been lovely lately, hasn't it?"
"It's pleasant enough. What did you wish to tell me about Miss Grafton?" he asked impatiently.
"I'm concerned about her," she said, casting another glance to the side. "Something must be wrong for her to call everything off with a man like Mr Chettisham."
He rather disagreed on that one. Getting rid of Chettisham might be the best decision Angel had ever made. With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "I do not know why you are telling me about this, Miss Grant."
"Oh, I thought you were friends, and..." She looked away again and then, before he had a chance to react, she threw herself at him, slid her arms around his neck, and pressed her mouth against his. Shocked, he put his hands on her waist to push her away just as he heard a gasp from somewhere a few feet to their side.
"Get your hands off my daughter!"
Wrenching free, he took two steps away from Joan. The little brat looked at him with a triumphant glow in her eyes before turning to her mother.
Running into her arms, she wailed. "Oh, Mother! He just started kissing me. I didn't know what to do!"
Mrs Grant stared at him, and he glared back, daring her to speak. "Is this true?" she finally choked out.
"No." Reining in his temper, he kept his voice even. "Your daughter threw herself at me."
"Well, I never...!" Mrs Grant sputtered.
"He's lying, Mama!"
The older woman looked from her daughter to Nathaniel, obviously uncertain about what to do. One did not easily accuse a marquess of lying. "How am I to know that my daughter is not ruined?" she finally asked irritably.
"You have my word of honour." His patience for this situation was quickly waning. He had little tolerance for scheming chits.
"What if word gets out that you kissed her?" she insisted, either unaware of his rising temper or deciding the potential win was worth the risk.
"I did not kiss your daughter!" he snapped, finally losing the tenuous grip he had on his irritation. "She came here with the intention of you finding us. The moment she saw you approach, she attacked me. You should count yourself lucky I didn't throw her in the fountain."
"But what if word gets out?" She was tenacious. He had to give her that. "It would ruin my daughter."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "The only ones who know of this incident are the three of us, and I certainly won't tell anyone. I would assume that you feel the same way since it's your daughter's reputation on the line."
Mrs Grant nodded jerkily. "Yes."
"But if people find out you will have to marry me!" Joan piped up but went silent as he levelled her with a disdainful look.
"Trust me, young lady," he said coldly, not appreciating having been set up. "If I hear any rumours about myself making any advances towards you, I will confirm them. Then refuse to marry you. That would ensure that no other proposals would be forthcoming. At least none that I think you would consider."
Joan blushed furiously, but Mrs Grant appeared to understand his meaning and quickly ushered her daughter back into the house. Nathaniel stayed where he was, still seething from the incident. The conniving woman had tried to trick him into marriage! He exhaled slowly, trying to get his temper under control. The mere thought of her audacity made him want to go back inside and tell her exactly what he thought of her plan.
"Enjoying some solitude in the garden?" Wortham came down the few steps from the small terrace, a smirk on his lips. "Or are you waiting for someone?"
"Not quite. I'm restraining my urge to wring someone's neck."
"Oh? Who's the lucky person?" his friend asked with mild interest as he withdrew a cheroot from his pocket and lit it.
"Miss Joan Grant."
"And what has she done to deserve this honour?"
"She tried to trick me into marriage."
"Well, I'll be damned!" Wortham laughed. "I'm impressed. The chit has guts."
Nathaniel grunted. "Did you want something?"
The earl sat down on the side of the fountain, taking a puff from his cheroot. "I thought maybe you'd gone outside with some ravishing beauty and would like to share her." He grinned.
"You're despicable."
"Thank you. I do try."
"Why did you come out here? Really."
"I heard something odd in the ballroom." Wortham took another puff of his cigar.
"Yes?"
"Our very own Miss Grant said something to her mother, which I overheard. Her mother asked about Miss Grafton, and Miss Grant said she had made sure she wouldn't show up tonight."
Nathaniel frowned. That comment, combined with Joan's attempt to trap him in a scandalous situation, did not sit well with him.
"Where is Gowthorpe?"
Wortham chuckled. "Without his sister in attendance, he felt quite happy leaving with a buxom lady a short while ago. Are you going over to Gowthorpe House to check up on Miss Grafton?"
Nathaniel shifted from one foot to the other. He shouldn't. But something about this whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth.
"I can't leave Jessica and Aunt Jane here. They would have no way of getting home if I am not back in time."
"I can bring them home in my carriage," Wortham offered, being uncommonly helpful.
"Thank you. Most likely, I will make a big fool out of myself, finding her sitting peacefully reading a book." He walked away, then stopped and turned around to look at his friend. "Why did you tell me this?"
"Because I knew you'd make an arse of yourself and wanted to see it."
"What do you mean?"
Wortham raised a dark eyebrow, his blue eyes mocking. "You know what I mean. Now go make sure the chit is safe. She is Gowthorpe's little sister, after all."
"Thanks for the reminder," Nathaniel grumbled.
"My pleasure, as always." As Nathaniel left the garden, he heard his friend's mocking voice. "Being honourable is overrated, you know!"
~~~~~~