Unfortunately, it also had the unwanted effect of attracting every fortune-hunter in the city.
The gentleman glanced at him, and his smirk slid away. He paled a little, stuttered something vague, and nearly scuttled away.
Coward.
Evidently, he didn’t like Lydia that much.
“Maxwell.” Lydia laid a hand on his arm. “You’re glowering again.”
“I’m not,” he said, the words a knee-jerk reaction. “I never glower in public.”
She sighed. “Iamgrateful for all the things you do for me, and the way you protect me, but you are also being a little… cold to the gentlemen who come by to chat.”
“Cold?”
“Yes, Maxwell. You scowl at every gentleman who dares approach me, say no more than two words together, and glower at them until they finally leave again.”
She smiled up at him winningly, and in her face, he saw a ghost of his brother, always so easy and charming in a way Maxwell had never found himself able to be.
“That man wanted nothing more than your dowry, Lydia,” he said. “If I am scowling, then it’s only because I want to look out for you.”
“I know that, but don’t you think I can make my own decisions?”
At seventeen, he very much did not. At seventeen, he had been a fool. Lydia liked to think she was worldly and wise, but she had seen very little of the world; if a gentleman wanted to take advantage of her, he probably could.
Of course, he could say none of this.
Simon approached from the side, grinning down at Lydia. “Well then, how are you enjoying your first masquerade?”
Lydia, dressed as Aphrodite—at the advice of her mother and not at Maxwell’s recommendation—beamed in positive delight. “I am enjoying it very much, my lord.”
“Excellent. May I steal the Duke from you for a moment? I promise to deliver him back to you safe and sound.”
If anything, Lydia looked more pleased at this turn of events. “Of course! You may have him as long as you like, so long as you return him unharmed.”
“You have my word, Miss Parsons.” He bowed at her, then at Joyce, who had been watching the proceedings with a stern expression. “Lady Rivenhall.”
She inclined her head, and before Maxwell could say anything, Simon whisked him away.
“Sorry, old chap,” he said as he picked up a glass of wine and handed Maxwell one. “I couldn’t bear to see you stand there and scowl off every prospective suitor for that girl.”
Maxwell grimaced. “Why does everyone say I scowl?”
“Never mind that. You are going to have to let her choose her own mistakes. You can advise her, but allow her to have fun sometimes.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell spotted Thalia, her head tipped back as she laughed at something Mr. Calloway said. The line of her throat was elegant, almost erotic, and the sound of her laughter reached him where he stood.
She had never laughed like that in his presence. There was an unpleasant feeling in his chest. Although he had disliked Calloway since almost the first moment of their meeting, he had never before wanted to do the man pain.
And yet now all he could think was how satisfying it would be to face Calloway in the ring. That would barely be a fight; he would prevail, and the natural order of things would be reestablished.
“Are you listening to me?” Simon demanded.
“Mm? You were telling me how to manage my own business.”
“I was telling you about how to manage your niece. What experience do you have with young girls, Max? Because, my word, you appear to have none.” Simon followed Maxwell’s gaze to Thalia, and his mouth curled in a knowing smile. “Or perhaps you are distracted? By something you want and cannot have?”
“Not in the least, I assure you.”
