Deceived & Honoured - The Baron's Vexing Wife (Love's Second Chance #7)(2)

Derek sucked in a stuttering breath, shocked by the sudden inner turmoil that assaulted him. What on earth was going on?

Unable to avert his eyes, he watched her laugh and smile, exchange a few words here and there as she continued her rounds through the large ballroom, and he wondered what it was that drew him to her. Was it her beauty? She certainly was a vision, a sight to behold, almost without compare. And yet, Derek doubted that mere beauty would have touched his heart the way she had.

“I’d advise against her.”

Derek almost flinched at the sound of his friend’s voice. “What?” he croaked, then cleared his throat, reluctantly turning his gaze to Tristan.

Once more, an amused grin decorated his friend’s features. “That is Lady Madeline, daughter of the Earl of Carlton. She certainly is a vision,” he echoed Derek’s thoughts; “however, unfortunately, her expectations regarding her future husband are not easily met.”

Although he knew he ought not to ask for it would only encourage more teasing from his friend, Derek could not remain silent. “Expectations?” he asked, momentarily ignoring his long-standing decision not to marry…

…or at least not for years to come…

…or not to a woman considered a peer.

As expected, Tristan chuckled, his eyes aglow with delight as he watched Derek. “She’s already quite famous for refusing marriage proposals. As the daughter of an earl, she has vowed not to marry below her station, meaning anyone below the rank of an earl need not bother to ask for her hand.” Shaking his head, he laughed. “There are a number of bets held at White’s about whether or not she will marry at all, and if so, who will be the lucky…or maybe unlucky…sod.”

Drawing in another deep breath, Derek’s gaze narrowed as it returned to the dark-haired beauty, who now stood up for a cotillion with yet another gentleman he barely looked at.

He ought to have known. She was one of them. One of the few privileged people who considered themselves superior, who could not be bothered to think twice about anything that did not contribute to their own happiness, who had no interest beyond title and reputation, fortune and lineage. No doubt, all she cared for was finding a husband of rank and fortune to ensure her own standing in society and protect said privilege from passing to those less fortunate. It was a small circle, and those in it were determined to keep it that way.

As he watched her, Derek barely noticed that the space next to him was now empty. He was hardly aware of his friend striding toward the other side of the room. He failed to see the crowd that had bothered him not too long ago.

All he saw was her.

And for a long time, he allowed himself to watch her as he could not deny that that was precisely what his heart wanted. Why, he could not say, and he did not dare dwell on it for fear knowing the answer would make it all the harder to walk away.

And walk away, he must.

And yet, Derek could not help the disappointment that seized his heart, and he realised that it bothered him to think of Lady Madeline that way. Strangely enough, he wanted her to be different, to see beyond a person’s superficial attributes and judge them for who they truly were.

Him, namely.

Still, as he looked at her, he knew that the barely notable strain that seemed to rest on her features as she smiled and laughed was only conjured by his own desire for it to be exactly as he wished. It was not real, not true. Nor was the dull gleam in her eyes that spoke of annoyance rather than amusement, exhaustion rather than enthusiasm.

Forcing his gaze to abandon her, Derek turned away, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. He caught sight of Tristan, dancing with a golden-haired beauty, both gazing at each other with such devotion that a touch of jealousy pinched Derek’s heart. He barely noticed that his hands were balled into fists, the sinews standing out white as he tried to fight off the sense of disappointment and loss that swept over him.

And then he saw him.

Townsend.

The Earl of Townsend.

At the sight of him, every muscle in Derek’s body tensed to the point of breaking. His teeth gritted together painfully, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the music and laughter echoing around him.

How dare he attend a ball and act as though nothing had happened? How dare he continue as though he had not??

Closing his eyes, Derek forced the bile that rose back down his throat, trying to reason with the rage that had seized him so unexpectedly. Nothing he did would make the slightest difference. He could storm over and beat the man to a pulp, and yet, it would not help. It would not change anything. Townsend was untouchable. After all, he was a peer.

A bloody peer!

Renewed anger and indignation heated his veins, sending fire through his body. And yet, he remained calm for he knew that those who acted without thought, without reason, without control would not survive.

And he had a family to think of.

He would not abandon them by doing something foolish.

“Ask her to dance.”

Blinking, Derek stopped, for a moment unable to comprehend the words echoing to his ears. Then he turned to look at his friend, who had reappeared beside him. “Who?” Derek frowned, his eyes inevitably drifting to the lady with the raven-black hair.

“Not her,” Tristan hissed as he jerked his chin to the side, indicating the golden-haired lady he had danced with only moments before. “Her.”

Only now, she was standing up with another man, and although Derek did not know him, he could tell from the predatory gleam in his eyes that he was a hunter, a rake. “Why?” he asked nonetheless, needing to buy time to force his emotions back into the box he usually kept them locked away in.