“What are you doing, terrorizing the virgins?”
Lucien downed half his fresh glass. “Where’s my cousin?”
Robert accepted a glass of Madeira from the footman. “She and Miss Gallant went to check on your aunt. Delightful girl. What were you so horrified of?”
The earl looked at his friend. “You liked my cousin?”
“Yes, I did. She’s very charming.”
“You’re insane.”
The viscount chuckled. “I am not. You simply have no tolerance for women.”
“I have great tolerance for women under certain circumstances,” Lucien corrected. “Though I have to admit, this isn’t one of them.”
“Which doesn’t answer my question. Why the debutantes?”
Lucien glared at him. Finding a proper wife wasn’t exactly something he could do without being noticed by theton; and reluctant as he was to discuss anything personal, Robert was bound to find out eventually. Better he do so from the source than from wagging tongues. “Robert, I’m nearly thirty-three, with no male relations to speak of. I’ll leave you to do the arithmetic.”
He strolled away, angling for the corner where he’d deposited Aunt Fiona. Luckily she hadn’t wandered off, and a few feet beyond her, Alexandra and Rose conversed with a striking dark-haired girl a year or two older than Rose.
“Ladies,” he said, stopping at Miss Gallant’s elbow.
She jumped, the warm smile she had for her companion heating his veins as she looked up at him. “My lord, may I present Lady Victoria Fontaine? Vix, Lord Kilcairn.”
No wonder Alexandra looked so pleased. She’d found a friendly face—one that wasn’t his. Lucien sketched a shallow bow. “Lady Victoria. A pleasure.”
“My lord.” She offered a mischievous smile that was obviously used to capture young men’s hearts on a regular basis. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” He reached down and took her hand, bringing it slowly to his lips. “Perhaps you would favor me with a waltz, and we might discuss the bounds of your knowledge?”
Beside him Alexandra uttered a strangled sound, which he ignored. He hoped she was jealous, but it was far more likely that she didn’t want him anywhere near her friends. For someone with a poor reputation, she certainly seemed haughty about his.
“I would be pleased, my lord.”
He smiled at the petite woman, relieved at finding another female with something sturdier than feathers for a backbone. “Not as pleased as I am.”
“You mean to marry?”
Lucien stifled a strangled sound of his own.
Despite the escalating scale, Robert had at least kept the volume down. Even so, enough of the guests around them had heard that by morning the entiretonwould know of his search. The viscount deserved to lose a few teeth, but that would only make the gossip more interesting. “Yes, Robert. Didn’t I make that clear?”
Lord Belton stared at him. “But you…your father…you hate—”
“Spit it out,” Lucien urged, noting that Alexandra had suddenly become very interested in the viscount’s stammering.
“Well, it’s just that everyone knows you mean never to marry,” Robert finally managed.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“But—”
“Of course my nephew will marry,” Fiona broke in, brushing past Alexandra. “Why should he not?”
Lucien scowled. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was assistance from Aunt Fiona. He opened his mouth to tell her that when a commotion at the nearby refreshment table caught his attention. With an audible gasp, a young lady teetered and collapsed onto the floor. Instantly a herd of older females gathered to hurry her out of the drawing room.
“Poor thing must have gotten too warm,” Aunt Fiona clucked. “I’ve already complained about how hot it is in here.”
