Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the ballroom, hoping to locate his erstwhile, younger cousin. But he wasn’t quick enough. Before he could take more than a few steps, he found himself surrounded by an army of mamas and debutantes.Oh hell.
“He must beLord Kensington’s cousin. The resemblance is eerie,” Cecily said as she warily watched the familiar, yet not familiar, gentleman attempt to extricate himself from the more aggressive Mayfair mothers. The man’s similarity to her husband was uncanny, and yet… not. Whereas Flavion drank in adoration greedily, this man looked irritated and a bit uncomfortable. He pulled at his cravat a time or two and scowled.
Handsome, indeed, drat him.
Cecily attributed the zing of awareness flowing through her to the man’s likeness to her husband. Until her wedding night she’d thought herself in love with Flavion. Of course, a man who looked so much like him would cause her heart to race. Wouldn’t it?
“I think he’s even more attractive than Flavion,” Emily said. “Sturdier, manlier somehow.”
Emily had the right of it. Cecily did not believe, in truth, that she could seduce any man, let alone this one. He seemed far too worldly, untouchable — almost. Her friends’ outlandish ideas were getting more and more preposterous.
Sophia shook her head, her blond ringlets dancing about her petite shoulders. “He doesn’t look like he would be as fun as Flavion is — was,” she said with a pout. “He seems overly serious.”
“Could you do it, Cecily? Could you seduce your husband’s cousin?” Rhoda asked daringly.
Cecily thought about the kisses she had shared with Flavion during their courtship. The compliments, secret smiles, and elicit touches. It had all been coldly calculated to lure her into falling in love. And she had believed in him. He’d made her heart dance. He’d caused the sun to shine inside of her on the rainiest of days.
None of it had meant anything to him.
And now she felt more powerless than she had in her entire life.
Her father hadn’t raised her to be an empty-headed miss, well, not until the last couple of years, anyhow. As a child, she’d sit with him in his office while he made decisions affecting hundreds of people. He’d allowed her to remain in the room during sensitive negotiations and then later explained his strategies and techniques. Although a female, she had been, nonetheless, his favorite protégé. He’d expounded the importance of knowing every detail, no matter how minute, before entering any contract.“And always remember,”he’d told her,“once money has exchanged hands, consider the deal final.”Cecily could not deny the direness of her situation.
For the payment of her dowry, had indeed, been delivered in full
If she were going to free herself, she would have to do something drastic.
Could she do it? Could she seduce her husband’s cousin?
Her cold anger turned into a steely resolve. “If it will make him angry enough to divorce me,” she said through clenched teeth. Perhaps then she would stop feeling so mad all of the time. Perhaps her hurt would go away ifshecould hurthim. She tamped down the part of her conscience that told her it wouldn’t work, it wasn’t right. But the scars of betrayal were now a part her. He had done this to her! She handed her empty glass to a passing waiter and accepted a new one.
After literally pushinghimself free of the clinging debutantes, Stephen strode across the ballroom, scanning the guests for his cousin amongst the crowd. In doing so, he saw some vaguely familiar faces. He merely inclined his head toward the few who managed to catch his eye and moved onward. Where the hell was Flavion? Having just arrived from the Continent, Stephen had first presented himself at his uncle’s townhouse, Flave’s now. The servants had told him that the earl and thecountess— surely not Flave’s mother? – were out for the evening attending one of the Season’s more elaborate balls. Rather than cool his heels at Nottinghouse, Stephen felt compelled to clean up, don his eveningwear, and seek out his cousin to discover what the devil he’d been up to. It had been nearly two days since he’d had any sleep, however, and his temper frayed.
Stepping onto the terrace, he immediately spied his cousin, only partially hidden by ornamental shrubs, in a passionate embrace with a dark-haired, sweet little English rose. Stephen ought to have guessed. Ever since the age of twelve, Flavion had single-mindedly developed this particular skill with unusual persistence.
“Flave!” he said firmly.
The younger man took his time looking up, but once his eyes lighted upon Stephen, he pushed the young woman aside and rushed over with both hands outstretched.
“Cuz!” he exclaimed before pulling Stephen into a tight hug. “Where have you been? Oh, it’s good to see you! I’ve been trying to track you down for years. Did you not receive my letters?”
“Not until recently.” He shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the lady Flavion had abandoned so casually.
Flavion laughed heartily, oblivious to his slight. “Well, the joke’s on you! I have taken care of matters myself and married an heiress! Largest dowry of them all.” His cousin’s blue eyes twinkled as he toggled his eyebrows.
At this point, Stephen turned and made a slight bow to the lady who held herself back, arms crossed in front of her. “Felicitations, my lady. Won’t you introduce me to your wife then, Flavion?”
At his words, a hard glint appeared in the lady’s eyes, and she tittered into her hand. Her giggles caused the curls about her head to bounce somewhat comically.
Flavion ducked his face before grinning back up at Stephen. “Ah, well, about that… We’ll have to go back inside the ballroom to find her.” Tilting his head with a shrug, he added, “A man must do what a man must do.”
Stephen squeezed the bridge of his nose to ward off what he was sure would become a massive headache. Somehow, he’d known the matter of Flavion getting married would not be a simple one. “Exactly when did this wedding take place?” His imagination conjured up all sorts of women who would have happily purchased the title of countess… incomparables, widows, antidotes, conniving bitches. In almost all of the scenarios, Stephen knew there would be complications.
There were always complications when a woman was concerned.
Flavion furrowed his brow and appeared to be counting back mentally. “A few weeks now, what does it matter? My pockets are flush again!”
“Perhaps I ought to escort your, er… friend, back inside to her chaperone, and then you may introduce me to your fortuitous bride,” Stephen suggested, already fearful that Flavion had walked into a disaster of his own making.
