Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(29)

Geoffrey’s frown deepened. He crossed his ankles and leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t see how my intentions should matter to you. That is, unless you have honorable intentions for…” His words trailed off. From around the rim of his glass, he studied Sinclair.

The earl took a long swallow of brandy.

Hell. “You intend to court Lady Beatrice,” Geoffrey said. He remembered the fascinated manner in which Beatrice had studied Sinclair at Lord and Lady Essex’s ball. This would certainly complicate Geoffrey’s timeframe.

Sinclair choked on the contents of his glass. He waved off a passing servant and the expressions of concern. “Lady B...Beatrice?” he sputtered, on a hushed whisper solely for Geoffrey’s ears. “Lady Beatrice.” Another fit of choking ensued. When at last the fit had ceased, Sinclair gave his head a clearing shake. “I didn’t come to ascertain your interest in Lady Beatrice, but rather her cousin.”

Geoffrey cocked his head. Sinclair’s words humming through his ears like he’d been submerged under water, and left there too long. “Her cousin?” he asked blankly.

“Yes,” Sinclair said with a nod. “Miss Abigail Stone. The scandal sheets had written of your seeming interest in Lady Beatrice, however, there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether it is the Lady Beatrice or the lovely Miss Stone who has you so enthralled.”

All manner of suitable responses escaped him. He should vehemently protest the charges, and yet his focus remained on why the too-roguish, too-charming Sinclair should concern himself with Abigail Stone.

“She’s an American,” Geoffrey said at last, choosing to keep his tone neutral.

“I suspected you would find her unsuitable,” Sinclair said more to himself. “Told Drake and Emmaline,” he said referring to the Marquess of Drake and his marchioness, Lady Emmaline, who happened to be Geoffrey’s sister’s dearest friend. “That there is no way you would be interested in an American.” An entirely inappropriate half-grin turned the other man’s lips. “I, on the other hand, well, I have very little problem with her being an American.” Sinclair shoved back an unfashionably long strand of black hair that fell over his eye.

With their dark coloring, Sinclair and Abigail would make a striking match. Another growl worked its way up Geoffrey’s throat.

“I say, are you all right?”

Geoffrey imagined the wicked Sinclair with the charming Miss Stone, and all Geoffrey’s earlier imaginings of her spread upon satin sheets, her arms extended toward him, were replaced with her reaching for the bastard Sinclair. Something Geoffrey didn’t recognize, something he’d never before felt, not even with Emma, something primal and dark reared its ugly head until he wanted to snarl and toss the table aside and bloody Sinclair the way he’d bloodied Carmichael.

He gave his head a shake. What the hell is wrong with me? He must be going mad. Geoffrey drew in a steadying breath and lied through his even, white teeth. “I have no interest in the lady.”

Sinclair smiled. “Splendid, Redbrooke.” Laughter from over at the betting book snagged his attention. “What the hell are they wagering on?”

Geoffrey shrugged and because frankly he’d had enough of the idea of Miss Stone and Lord Sinclair together, Geoffrey used that diversionary question to make his much needed escape. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, and rose.

Alas, Sinclair seemed unable to identify a clear dismissal. He jumped up from his seat and fell into step beside Geoffrey. “Bloody dandies,” he muttered to Geoffrey. “Were we ever that foolish?”

Geoffrey scowled at the other man. “I wasn’t."

Sinclair blinked. “Did you just insult me, Redbrooke?”

They reached the rainbow menagerie of too-bright satin waist coats, sparing Geoffrey from responding to Sinclair. As one, the group of gentlemen fell silent, eying Geoffrey with a hesitancy, even as they parted to allow him access to the betting book.

He scanned the wagers.

Lord Ashville bets Lord Forbes 200 guineas to 10 that an event between them understood takes place before another which was named. May 17, 1818.

Lord Montgomery bets Lord Avondale 100 guineas to 20 that Lady Waxham will be enceinte before the Season is concluded.

Geoffrey frowned at seeing his sister’s name in the betting books, and continued reading.

Sinclair’s black curse sent three of the dandies hurrying off.

Geoffrey continued reading.

Lord Carmichael bets Lord Havensworth 50 guineas to 10 Miss Abigail Stone will…

His body went immobile, as the words inked in black upon the page blurred before his eyes.

Geoffrey’s gaze narrowed.

…find herself compromised by an English gentleman, and shipped back to the Americas with a sullied reputation.

That dark, primordial urge reared its ugly head. Geoffrey spun around, and the remaining young gentleman who’d not possessed the sense to flee before, went wide-eyed. The brightly colored peacock gulped and fled for his respective table.

Geoffrey turned back to the damned page. He reached for the parchment.

“Don’t,” Sinclair said quietly, anticipating Geoffrey’s hasty actions.

Geoffrey stared down at the page, unable to explain this unholy urge to defend the lady’s honor.

Sinclair cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Geoffrey’s hand.