James couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Good God, you too? That’s rich, lad. Damn me if it ain’t. And what have you done to merit—”
“I haven’t forgiven you, that’s what.” Nicholas scowled at this amusement at his expense. “And well she knows it. Every time you and I have words, she lays into me later. When the devil are you leaving London, anyway?”
“My, but that’s becoming a source of keen interest.” James continued to chuckle. “If it’ll keep you on the sofa, dear boy, I may never leave.”
“You’re all heart, Malory.”
“I like to think so. If it’s any consolation, I forgave you a long time ago.”
“How magnanimous, when you were at fault to begin with. All I did was best you on the high seas—”
“And land me in gaol,” James replied, no longer quite so amused.
“Hah! That was after you landed me in my bed to recover from your thrashing, nearly making me miss my own wedding.”
“Which you had to be dragged to,” James pointed out sourly.
“That’s a bloody lie!”
“Is it? Well, you can’t deny my brothers had to do a little arm twisting to get you there. Would that I’d been here at the time—”
“But you were, old man—skulking around alleys trying to waylay me.”
“Skulking? Skulking!” James blustered.
Nicholas groaned. “Now you’ve done it with your bloody shouting.”
James followed the direction of his gaze to see that Regina was no longer dancing. She was standing in the middle of the dance floor watching them and looking none too pleased, with Connie next to her, trying to look as if he hadn’t heard their raised voices too.
“I believe I could use another drink,” James said abruptly, grinning. “Enjoy your sofa, lad.” And he deserted Nicholas for the refreshment table. Passing Anthony on the way, he couldn’t resist commenting, “You and Montieth ought to compare notes, dear boy. He suffers from the same complaint as you, don’t you know.”
“Does he?” Anthony scanned the room until his eyes lit on Nicholas. Dryly, he added, “If he does, he’s obviously discovered how to correct it.”
James chuckled, seeing Nicholas kissing his wife with flagrant disregard for the audience they were attracting. “Damn me if he hasn’t got something there.Regan can’t very well rail at him if she can’t get her lips free.”
But Anthony wasn’t there to hear this comment. He had heard once again, and one time too many, Roslynn’s throaty laugh at some sally her present partner had made. Weaving his way through the dancers until he came to the pair, he tapped Justin Warton on the shoulder none too gently, bringing them to a sudden halt.
“Is something amiss, Malory?” Lord Warton asked cautiously, sensing the underlying menace in Anthony’s stance and expression.
“Not at all.” Anthony smiled tightly, but his arm shot out to catch Roslynn as she started to edge away. “Just retrieving what’s mine.” And with a curt nod, he whirled his wife into the waltz that was still in progress. “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”
“I was,” Roslynn retorted, keeping her eyes averted from his.
The only indication that the insinuation had struck home was a slight tightening of his fingers on her waist. “Shall we leave, then?”
“No,” she said too quickly.
“But if you’re having no fun…”
“I’m—having—fun,” she gritted out.
He smiled down at her, watching her eyes dart about the room, anywhere but up at him. He drew her closer, and saw the pulse beat quicken at her throat, and wondered what she would do if he followed Montieth’s strategy.
He asked her. “What would you do, sweetheart, were I to end this dance with a kiss?”
“What?”
He had her eyes locked fast to his now. “That sends you into a panic, does it? Why is that?”
