“Why do you look like a thundercloud?”
“I do not look like a thundercloud, Zach.”
Warwick’s eyes went back to Samantha. Her dress was violet, and the satin sheath caressed her lovely body. A lace overdress in the same color was open down the front. Her hair was pulled up on the sides with tiny diamond pins, and the back hung in soft ringlets. Just looking at her made his body clench. He could see the curves of her breasts above the bodice, and to his mind it should be higher. He wanted no man ogling her.
Zach’s eyes went from Warwick to Samantha and back again.
“Do you know I’ve always wondered about you two. I mean, there is that thing the rest of you have. Sinclairs marry those of Raven blood, after all.”
“What are you talking about?” He feigned disinterest.
“We have always played the game that your sisters and Lady Samantha love me best, but neither of us really believed it. So, I say again, which is her Sinclair? You, perhaps? Or is she the first to break free of whatever madness grips your family and can marry someone who doesn’t carry your blood?”
“Samantha can marry who she wants,” he said lightly when inside he wanted to roar that she was his.
“Really?” His friend rocked back on his heels. “Then perhaps that Frenchman will not have his heart broken after all.”
“She’s already told him she doesn’t care for him that way.” He wished he kept those words inside his mouth when Zach smiled.
“Well then, perhaps there is hope for me. She is a lovely intelligent woman, and clearly, we are friends, which can easily turn to love. My family have been putting pressure on me lately.”
Punching your friend at your brother-in-law the duke’s charity ball was not done, so he did the next best thing. He retaliated in kind.
“Did you know that I saw Mary Blake and Mr. Niven deep in conversation about the latest Captain Broadbent and Lady Nauticus novel when I arrived? They had their heads together, and she was giggling. It’s not often I hear Mary laughing in such a manner or indeed smiling as she was. Do you think there may be an announcement there?”
Miss Mary Blake and Zach had been arguing with each other for years. Warwick had often wondered if there was a deeper reason for that.
“Niven would be eviscerated in days by her shrewish nature and caustic tongue,” Zach snapped, losing his urbane air in seconds.
“They seem comfortable together, which is surely a must in any marriage. Then there is the fact that she is likely to want to get out of her household. Let’s face it, her mother and sister cannot be easy to live with.”
Zach followed his eyes and found Mary Blake dancing with Mr. Niven.
“He’s too old for her.”
“Really? He can’t have more than ten years on her, surely?”
Zach’s eyes swung back to Warwick. The anger eased, and the smile returned.
“Did you know that Mr. Blanchet is from a French noble family?”
“Shut up, Zach.”
“Shut up, Warwick.”
They stood in silence, watching the dancers.
“We will come tomorrow, as we have news,” his friend said when the dance finished.
“Already?”
“We are good at what we do, Warwick. Have faith.”
He grunted something and then watched Zach leave to intercept Mary and force her back onto the dance floor. Before he could do the same with Samantha, a woman stepped into his path.
“Good evening, Mr. Sinclair.”
Damn. He’d not been paying enough attention.
