A Dash of Scandal(48)
She was what she never thought she would be—just like her mother. She was going to fall in love with the town scoundrel and be forced to leave London in shame as her mother had done years ago.
She would tell him he must not try to speak to her again. Yes, that is what she would do.
Feeling resolute, she opened her eyes to tell him, but he was gone.
Ten
“Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.” And find the Mad Ton Thief seems to be the outcry from London Society. Acknowledgment is given to Lord Dunraven. Because of his efforts, home soirées must now suffer the presence of ill-at-ease Runners. Why? one must ask, when many of the ton believe the thief is a ghost. One would think the earl would be too busy to bother with the thief, since Lady Lambsbeth is in Town for the rest of the Season.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
“Blasted devils, all of them,” Chandler muttered to himself as he wadded the newspaper clipping Fines had just given him. He looked around the crowded room for a place to throw it but found nothing nearby.
Chandler stood just inside one of the arched alcoves in the ballroom at Almack’s. He’d been feeling quite good, looking forward to spending the evening in Miss Blair’s company until Fines appeared with a copy of the latest tittle-tattle. He shouldn’t have read it. He knew better. It always left him feeling angry and ruined his evening. Tonight was no exception.
It might be worth getting married just so the gossip-mongers would leave him alone.
“You have only yourself to blame, Dunraven,” Fines said in a high-handed tone.
“Why the hell do you think I would bring such misery on myself?”
“I tried to warn you last night that Lady Lambsbeth was in attendance.”
The orchestra played a tune that seemed to match the slow, strong beat of Chandler’s heart. The dance floor was filled with elaborately dressed ladies and expensively clad gentlemen twirling and sidestepping in unison. Chandler was thankful the windows in the large room were open. The gossip along with his tight collar and neckcloth was definitely making him hot.
He’d made an appearance at three different parties tonight, looking for anyone who might not fit in with the usual crowd. At last he’d realized what an ineffectual idea that had been. He was not going to nab the thief at one of the house parties. If that happened, it would have to be one of Doulton’s Runners who did it.
He searched the crowd once again for Miss Blair, as he’d done the entire hour he’d been in the ballroom. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He’d felt like an anxious schoolboy as he’d dressed tonight. He couldn’t wait to get here so he could see her, talk to her, dance with her. He wanted her back in his arms.
“Did you hear me, Dunraven?”
“Yes,” he said, but wasn’t sure he had. “I was just thinking that if I ever get my hands around the neck of Lord Truefitt, I’ll happily strangle him until he begs for mercy and swears he’ll never pick up another quill to put in ink!”
“All you and Andrew wanted to do was talk about some penniless girl from the country. What was her name—Miss Blondel?”
Chandler took umbrage at Fines for speaking of her in such an ill manner. “Miss Blair. And where did you hear that she was a penniless girl from the country?”
“I believe Andrew said as much last night when he alluded to the fact she was in Town only for the Season and hoping to make a comfortable match.”
“He doesn’t know as much about her as I do,” Chandler said contentiously. “You can tell by her clothing, her manner of speech, and the way she carries herself,” the way she feels in my arms, the sweetness of her kisses, “that she was not raised penniless.”
“It could be that her family splurged on clothes just for the Season. She is lovely. No reason to think she won’t do well for herself.”
Finding no place to discard the wadded clipping and feeling quite provoked by now, Chandler threw the small paper ball out the open window. He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with Miss Blair. She wasn’t the most beautiful young lady he’d ever seen, but she was the most intriguing, the most enchanting, and the most desirable.
Chandler didn’t care a damn about Lady Lambsbeth. He didn’t want to see her or talk to her and he certainly didn’t want his name linked to hers in the papers. There was only one lady on his mind. Miss Millicent Blair.