Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(44)

As if that thought had been a harbinger, there was Bliss, looking like the cherry atop a meringue. She stood next to the Countess, their gowns clashing like an apple and a strawberry—forget the cherry. Now, that was a pairing he needed to discourage. He shuddered at the thought of what trouble his sister was in the midst of, and how the Countess might influence her. He’d long been prepared for the scandal that he knew was to come. Bliss was trouble waiting to happen—trouble he didn’t want to be his responsibility. He’d tried sending her off to school—it was a pity England no longer had convents—keeping her on the ducal estates, hiring her the strictest of chaperones, and still she was always at the center of the party, a step away from disgrace.

If only he could manage to marry her off and make her somebody else’s problem.

He stopped and stood still, the thought having been distracting enough to halt his pursuit of Lady Brookingston.

Unfortunately, Bliss spotted him. She came running—only Bliss could run in such a crush—straight to him, flinging herself into his arms. “Oh, Geoff, I am so glad you’re here.”

And he hugged her back. That was the problem with Bliss: He might despair of her, but he did love her. She was one of the few in the whole world toward whom he would admit to that emotion.

“Hello, Poppet. What are you up to? And what are you doing in such company?” He let his gaze drift back to the Countess, who stood watching them, watching him.

Bliss looked up at him, her eyes serious for a moment. “You don’t actually want to know, do you?”

He stared back down at her, ignoring the Countess, and trying to keep his tone light. “Do I need to? Will your creditors appear in my office in the morning—or, even worse, angry dowagers?”

A long, tired sigh left her lips. “No. I promise. For tonight I will do nothing more than spin ridiculously fast as I dance.”

“And those skirts will not rise up to your waist?” His eyes sought the Countess, who stood apart, still studying them.

Her eyes creased upward. “I promise not.” And with the lightest peck on his cheek she was off, moving at twice the speed of any normal girl. He could only hope she kept her promise.

Blast. A warning that the Countess was trouble would only have sent Bliss hurrying farther in her direction. There was nothing as sure to make Bliss do something as telling her not to.

He would have to speak directly to the Countess, although not here. That was probably exactly what she had planned in approaching his sister in such a manner. He could only hope that their acquaintance did not predate this evening.

With that worrying thought in mind, he turned to the card room—and there Lady Brookingston stood, right in his path.

He took a step forward, knowing it was ordained. He turned first to her companion. “Lady Perse, it is good to see you. You are looking quite well.”

“It is good to see you also, Lord Swanston. Are you acquainted with Lady Brookingston?” Lady Perse nodded toward him, her lips held tight.

“Thank you, yes.” He took the small, gloved hand as it was held out to him. “I was sorry to hear about Lord Brookingston. He was always a good friend.”

“I received your card at the time.” Lady Brookingston pulled her hand free, but did not meet his gaze. Her voice seemed to quiver, and was a good octave higher than he recalled. “I did appreciate knowing he was in your thoughts.”

“And you as well. Have you come to Town for the season?” he asked, his eyes focusing on that full lower lip. Gods, even now he wanted to bite it.

Lady Perse took over the conversation. “My dear Lady Brookingston has decided that it is time she rejoin society. I have offered to reintroduce her, to make sure that she meets those who are most suitable.” The older woman looked him over from head to toe as if judging his worth. “I would hate to waste her time.”

And do you find me a waste? The question rose to his lips, but he held it back. Lady Perse was known for her manners. She could be cutting, but only within the lines of propriety—and she held others to the same standard. “I must agree. I should hate to waste the time of so lovely a lady. Perhaps you would come for a ride with me in the park tomorrow. It would surely not be a waste to spend time gazing at such beauty.”

A slow blush rose up Lady Brookingston’s cheek, and her eyes darted to meet his and then away. “The park is stunning at this time of year. That would be quite nice.” Again her voice held a strange breathless quality.

Had she tied her corset too tight? He’d happily help loosen the strings.

“Good. That is arranged then. Forgive us, Lord Swanston, but I do have further introductions to make.” Lady Perse took Lady Brookingston by the arm and dragged her away.

Swanston could follow only with his eyes as Lady Brookingston’s swaying skirts disappeared into the crowd once again.

He wasn’t sure why, but he had the feeling that Lady Brookingston just might be the answer to his problems, even if she was not the solution he had imagined.

Quieting his thoughts, and his body, he forced his mind to more practical matters. Just how much was the sweet woman worth?



What was wrong with her? Louisa felt almost faint as Lady Perse pulled her along the floor. It must be that man, Swanston. She’d found herself reacting to him, wondering if he could be Charles. His height and build were right, and his voice was remarkably similar to his father’s. But then, for all she knew all the men from Kent sounded that way and she had just never noticed.