The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(18)

“Not just any husband—the ideal husband. I have standards.”

“Yet your standards include Mr. Brice?” Something about her quest to conquer his friend grated on him. “Those are rather low standards, my lady.”

“You only say that because you’re a gentleman.”

“Really?” He’d thought it bordered on ungentlemanly to comment at all.

“Of course. You don’t know what attributes ladies hold higher than others. If you did, you would wear a bit more color. And you wouldn’t attend a ball while intent on a business matter. Balls are for dancing. Could you be convinced to dance?”

“Never.”

“I didn’t think so,” she said with a pitying look in her eyes. “You must dance if you’re to find love, you know. Love is everywhere, even if we don’t realize it’s present.” She cast a quick glance around the room as if looking for some long-lost love and turned back to him, smiling.

“My business here tonight is quite different from your business,” he confided. One of the best places to hold meetings unnoticed was in the crush of a society gathering. Tonight he’d come here to meet with two lords about some recent work the Spare Heirs had completed and to ask a few key people about Grapling. The man had once had friends. Fallon’s chase wouldn’t be any easier if the man renewed his old friendships.

“What is your business? My father has investments. He used to travel into London for meetings until he acquired his title and lands a few years ago. I always asked to accompany him on his trips, but he said it was no place for a young lady. I disagree. London is the perfect place for a lady.”

“I doubt your father was attending balls while here,” Fallon said cryptically. He knew exactly why her father had come to town, and that situation had indeed not been ideal for a lady.

“You’re here on an official matter,” she countered.

“I am.”

She watched him for a second before he could see an idea light her eyes. “Ignore your clearly dull business and dance with me. Friends do dance.”

“This one does not,” he said, dismissing her plea. “You believe my work is dull? There is bit of excitement involved.”

“Pirate dealings or not, you’re always on your way to a meeting of some sort. Meanwhile there’s dancing,” she stated with a wave of her fan toward the ballroom floor, nearly colliding with a lady waltzing past in the process. “Do you twirl while in a meeting?”

“No.”

“That settles things, then. You are entirely too focused on what must be done. Gentlemen should enjoy their leisure time as well. Come with me.” She wrapped her hand around his arm before he could offer it.

“Where are we going?”

“To enjoy a leisurely pursuit. If you refuse to dance…”

“On the terrace?” He would wonder at the type of friendship she had in mind for him, but then he glanced at her. No lady would smile so broadly and walk with a bounce in her step on her way to a rendezvous. Thinking of dark terraces—and certainly him—in those terms didn’t seem in Lady Isabelle’s nature. And that was a relief—truly it was. The last thing he needed was for a lady to set her sights on him. She desired Brice, which was as it should be.

Once on the terrace, Lady Isabelle turned to him. “Isn’t it magical?”

“It’s dark. If our hosts added more candles, they could entice more guests in this direction, thereby gaining larger occupancy for their entertainment and the possibility of enlarging their guest list.”

“St. James.”

“What? Isn’t a mad crush what all of these societal types want for their events? I suppose if one were looking at it from the standpoint of profitability, then the expense of candles—”

“Shh. The magic is in the starlight.”

Fallon fell silent for a moment as he stared off into the black of the back garden. He should question her about the necklace, take it from her to aid in his investigation, and return to hold his meetings in the light of the ball.

The terrace really was quite dark. Candles weren’t free, but they certainly were a necessity. The Spare Heirs incurred expense every day, yet the venture was profitable for all involved. “Some expense can bring about the optimal conditions for business dealings,” he mused aloud.

A small finger touched his chin and lifted his gaze upward. Thousands of stars were scattered across the sky on the cool spring night. It wasn’t often that one could see the stars while in London. He had to admit it was a beautiful sight.

“Pirates should appreciate the stars,” Isabelle stated. “Weeks at sea with no entertainment and all.”

“We can’t all live aboard ships,” he muttered.

“What does that mean?”

Fallon turned to look back down at her. He owed her no explanation of his thoughts. He shouldn’t even be lingering on the terrace with her, not for a moment. His schedule would be rushed for the remainder of the evening because of this diversion. This situation would be easily resolved by ripping Isabelle’s necklace away from her and continuing on about his evening.

But the innocence of her question held him still. “Sometimes the mighty kings and knights from the books you enjoy are drunken idiots in reality. And sometimes the pirates everyone fears are truly good men making the best of life on land.”