Facing his mother, he watched as she slowly maneuvered around the other guests, leaning heavily on her cane. Her usual smiling face was set in stone, her hazel eyes aimed at Hunt.
“I’m ready to leave,” his mother said once she’d reached where they were standing. “It’s stifling in here, and apparently, everyone is talking about how you nearly came to fisticuffs with Augustus. Really, Hunt, we agreed to avoid a scandal,” she reminded him with a shake of her head.
Hunt weaved his arm through hers, allowing her to place all her weight on him. He could see how standing for such a long period of time was affecting her.
“In my defense, I was trying to avoid my dear cousin.” He led her slowly through the crowded ballroom.
“It is true, Mother. Augustus was provoking him, per usual,” Helen said from the other side of their mother. “What did he say to upset you?”
Hunt’s gaze darted frantically around the ballroom until it crashed into deep pools of brown.
His hellion—No, not his, just a hellion that he’d probably remember for the rest of his life.
“Nothing.”
Chapter Four
Delia’s body shivered as the nameless gentleman walked out of the ballroom. It was preposterous, really. Why should she care about a man with a smile like his? He knew himself, was well aware of the effect he had on every female in the room. He was the type of gentleman Delia steered clear of, a man who would turn her into her worst nightmare…her mother.
“Did you see the Earl of March and Wakefield nearly come to blows?” Aunt Francis’s friend, Mrs. Howard, said excitedly, practically sprinting to Aunt Francis. An impressive sight for someone her age, to be sure.
The entire ballroom was buzzing with gossip about the Earl of March and his cousin. Apparently, Delia had been too busy with thoughts of her mysterious man to notice anyone or anything else. It didn’t help that the Duke and Duchess of Karrington’s ballroom was massive and she had marched clear across it to flee the handsome stranger.
She glanced around again, unable to locate Margaret in the crush. She had accepted a dance with a nice young gentleman.A second son, according to Aunt Francis, was beneath Margaret, but Delia thought he of the perfect ilk for her sister.
“No!” Aunt Francis replied in horror. “I was too busy touring the portrait gallery with the duchess. Tell me everything.”
“I did not see it personally, but apparently, the earl grabbed Wakefield and raised his hand to hit him when Karrington intervened.” Mrs. Howard clutched at the pearls at her neck.
Deciding that she’d heard enough from the old hens, Delia began a turn around the dance floor in search of Margaret. The previous set had ended, and a new one begun, but there was no sign of her sister anywhere.
How strange.
After her third turn around the room, Delia’s path was suddenly blocked by a rotund older gentleman with thinning black hair, streaked gray.
“I knew your mother,” he said by way of greeting.
Her back stiffened at the predatory glint in his eyes. Where her mysterious gentleman appeared to be self-centered, with his enticing good looks and charm, this man was clearly a threat.
“How wonderful for you.” Delia tried to step around him, but he shifted his weight to block her exit.
“Cheeky, aren’t you?” he asked, snorting out of his nose. “Your mother and I had a mutually lucrative arrangement at one point; I’d be willing to make one with you.”
It was official, she was going to be ill. She swallowed down the bile that rose up in her throat, trying to control her anger.
Delia squeezed her hands into fists, allowing the bite of her nails to center her.
She was not her mother.
“Thank you for the titillating offer, but I must refuse.” She plastered a tight smile on her lips. “I am not a courtesan.”
“It’s not a secret that your father will soon toss you aside like he should’ve done years ago, the sentimental fool.” He shook hishead, like caring for one’s child was a bad thing. “This is the best offer you’re sure to receive, girl.” He sneered at her, his beady eyes roaming her body.
“I’m not your girl, nor do I ever plan to enter into an arrangement with you or any gentleman.” He jerked back, like her words had offended him. Of course, he thought it should’ve been a compliment for a girl like her, but he didn’t know Delia. “Now please step aside before I knee you in the bollocks in front of a ballroom full of people?—”
“You wouldn’t dare risk your reputation,” he snarled out in a doubtful whisper.
Delia shrugged her shoulder, not caring that she was making a scene in front of all of Society. “I’m a bastard. I don’t have a reputation.” Leaning in slightly, she challenged, “Now move aside before I make you.”
