Casting his gaze about the room, he caught sight of his long-time friend ensconced in conversation and wondered if he might sneak off for a bit without being noticed. Surely Thorne would not begrudge him a small reprieve. After all, Thorne was well aware of Giles’s aversion to these things.
A smile curved his lips at the thought, and he searched the room, seeking a lady to distract himself with. His gaze met nothing beyond the innocent smiles of debutantes and appraising eyes of matchmaking mamas.
The whole thing was enough to make a fellow’s skin crawl. And he wondered for the thousandth time why he’d allowed Thorne to rope him into this.
Giles slipped his flask from his coat and took a long drink of the brandy canceled within. Perhaps if he got drunk enough, Thorne would dismiss him from his obligation. Leastwise, he would find the ball more tolerable. Regardless, he was well on his way to being foxed and had no intention of slowing down now.
Giles simply was not fit for good company. He did not belong at a come-out ball full of innocent ladies. Thorne never should have requested his attendance. He certainly should not have asked that Giles remain in the ballroom.
Why the devil had he allowed Thorne to talk him into attending his sister’s ball, at any rate? Giles should have declined. He was not the sort of man to add prestige to such an event, and certainly not the sort that would help the girls.
If anything, his presence here would hurt their chances of finding suitable matches, and Thorne well knew it. Giles was a hardened rogue. That he was a duke only allowed him more liberties. He could tarnish a lady’s reputation by merely dancing with her.
Still, Thorne was Giles’s oldest and closest friend. He could scarcely refuse his invitation. Nor could he ravish any of the innocent ladies swarming the ballroom.
There was nothing for it. He was here, and he would do his best to honor Thorne’s wishes. Surely, he could survive one night of debutants.
He took another long drink of brandy before he capped his flask and closed his eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar feminine voice fairly purred near his ear.
A roguish smile curved his lips, for it seemed his luck was taking a turn for the better. “Lady Lambert,” he said as he opened his eyes to greet the widow.
She gave a slight smile, her gaze full of invitation. “It has been some time, Your Grace.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. The last time he had entertained her had been several months back. Perhaps a year ago. “How long has it been? A year?”
She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I couldn’t say.”
The severe set of her face betrayed her feigned nonchalance, and he recalled why he’d ended the affair. She had become too serious—even a bit territorial. He’d wager she knew down to the hour how long it had been since he’d bedded her.
Regardless, she was just the distraction he needed tonight.
He brushed the back of one finger along her cheek and asked, “Have you missed me,” he leaned closer, “Kitty?”
Passion flared in her gaze. “Meet me in the library in twenty minutes, and I shall endeavor to show you exactly how much.” She tapped her silk fan against his chest. “I promise I will not disappoint you.” Kitty pivoted, then fled in a billow of scarlet skirts, her hips swaying in invitation.
Giles waited a few minutes, then strode around the perimeter of the ballroom before exiting. As he made his way to the library, he sipped from his flask. A bit more brandy and a willing woman would set him to rights. After his tryst, he would return to the ball and lend Thorne his full support.
For whatever that was worth.
Chapter 2
Juliet inhaled a deep breath as she turned to face the shelves of neatly bound books. All at once, her stress melted away, and her mood took a turn for the better.
She much preferred the scents of leather and vellum to those of the stifling ballroom. The intermingling rose, jasmine and sandalwood colognes and powders combined with bodily odors clogged her nose and turned her stomach.
But this. Ah yes, she adored the scent of the vast and utterly deserted library. Beeswax, tallow, leather, and vellum mingled with the smell of the crackling fire in the hearth. It was peaceful and inviting. And best of all, there was no one else about—no one to judge her and no one she needed to impress.
She was alone. Save for herself and the books, of course. Juliet smiled as she scanned row after row of leather-bound volumes with gold lettering. From where she stood, her sightline contained nothing more than books, and she adored the prospect of selecting one.
The idea of escaping into a different world and letting her imagination run wild always thrilled her. When she read, she became one of the characters. It was as if she got sucked right into the book and lived the story. There was no greater escape. Not for a lady, at any rate.
She stepped closer to the shelves, then reached out to run her fingertip along the book spines as she considered each one. Edgeworth, Hoffmann, Scott. All excellent authors, but not quite what she was looking for. Juliet strolled further down the row of books, then paused when she spotted a recent novel,Sense and Sensibility by A Lady volume one.
Finding the author’s title and anonymity interesting, she plucked the book from the shelf and then opened it. She’d likely read it for no other reason than to support the anonymous female author. All the same, she hoped the storyline would be intriguing.
Juliet read the first line:The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. So it was to be a family tale, she thought as she read further. It did not take long to discover that the Dashwood females were in a precarious position. She determined the book to be well worth her time and continued to read.
