“Unless I’m asked to in very polite fashion,” he added with a flawless grin.
Verity allowed him to escort her from the alcove, wondering just what she’d managed to get herself into.
CHAPTER 13
Everett felt like the world’s greatest arse.
He’d been rude to his wife during their lone waltz.
He was jealous of one of his closest friends without cause, aside from Kingham’s deliberate provocation.
He’d been glowering at everyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path this evening. He’d even snapped atMaman, who had looked quite hurt by his tone, even if she had held her tongue.
And now, his sister was lost.
Mamanhad approached him, inquiring whether he’d seen Verity recently. Which, of course, he had not. He’d been too damned preoccupied by watching his glorious wife dance with other men all evening. His eyes hadn’t strayed anywhere else.
He hadn’t known he ought to be watching his sister like a governess with her wayward charge, but that was what he felt like now as he scoured the ballroom in search of her. As he was performing his second circumnavigation of the dance floor, he spied her at last. She was, much to his surprise, dancing.
But perhaps it wasn’t the fact that she was dancing that shocked him, quite as much as who she had partnered with.
Kingham.
He had to admit that they made a well-matched pair, even as his brotherly instincts rebelled at the sight of his rakish friend with his sister. They were both dark-haired and tall, moving flawlessly about the ballroom together.
Not that Verity would ever entertain the suit of another man; she had been mourning Lord Leopold these last ten years. Nor that Kingham would court his sister. King didn’t dally with innocents. He preferred widows and unhappy wives.
Unhappy wives like Sybil.
Everett struck that thought down at once. His wife had no reason to be unhappy.Shewas the one who had professed her love for another man on their wedding day.Shewas the one who had been dallying with a servant.Shewas the one who had been embracing a footman and telling him how much she would miss him just after she had spoken vows to Everett.
He had only responded to what he had witnessed as any husband would. Meanwhile, he had given hercarte blanchefor jewels, the finest gowns, and even this bloody ball, all of which added up to thousands of pounds. All he asked for in return was that she bear him children. In the bedroom, he had no doubt that she was well pleased.
Should that not be more than sufficient?
He scowled at Kingham and Verity one last time and turned toward the terrace. His necktie felt more like a noose. His evening coat was too cumbersome for this crush. The chandeliers made it feel as if hundreds of miniature suns were roasting them all. Perspiration trickled down his spine. He needed a respite from this sickly stew of people. The smell of hair grease and sweat mingled with perfume and spilled champagne, all the endless preparations leading to a herd of lords and ladies eating and drinking and making messes as they made merry.
Such a waste.
He had almost reached the door to the terrace when Lady Rhiannon Northwick surged through it in a bustle of silken skirts, her expression distressed as she hastened off in the opposite direction. Lady Rhiannon was the Duke of Whitby’s sister, and Everett considered himself another brotherly figure to her. If she was unhappy, then by God, he was going to see who had caused the distress.
But before he could further investigate, the Duke of Richford stalked through the same door, appearing similarly vexed.
Everett stopped. Surely Richford and Lady Rhiannon had not been having a row on the terrace.
Had they?
Richford would never dream of trifling with Whit’s sister. Such an egregious overstep of boundaries would shatter the gentlemanly code between them all, much like King and his own sister. It would simply never happen. He was being fanciful. Reading too much into things.
That was all.
He turned away from the terrace, deciding against the fresh air in favor of awaiting Kingham and Verity as their dance concluded. Everett doubled back to the periphery of the dancing couples and waited for their approach.
“Kingham,” he greeted, unsmiling. “Sister. I must admit, I was surprised to see the two of you dancing together this evening.”
“His Grace persuaded me that he deserved a dance,” Verity said, casting a glance in the direction of Kingham that Everett found curious indeed.
“That was most kind of him,” Everett said, casting a warning glare in his friend’s direction. “Next, he shall be accompanying you to the orphanage and braiding your bloody hair.”
