Ralston snorted. The idea was idiotic and didn’t deserve an answer. Even if he had a life of his own to live, he was not in the habit of visiting gambling hells, especially not those reputed to offer the types of amusements that often led to scandal. His duty was to mitigate that kind of risk. Not engage in it.
Once outside, he loaded his cousin into his own carriage making sure the driver did not take any detours in bringing Jarret home, no matter how loudly the cad protested.
“Did you ever think your mother might increase your allowance if you behaved more responsibly with your finances?”
“No,” his cousin pouted. “My mother revels in her tight grip on the purse strings. It’s her favorite way of controlling me.”
“Go home, Jarret.”
His cousin gave a mocking salute and then grinned again before pulling the carriage door shut. Ralston sighed and nodded to his driver.
Now, he’d have to wait for the carriage to return before he could even consider calling it a night. He strode swiftly into the house and angled back toward the ballroom.
Hopefully, his sister and cousins hadn’t had enough time to do anything they shouldn’t.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t be so lucky.
His cousin Bridget, who was making her debut this year, was surrounded by at least half a dozen young bucks and wassomehow managing a simultaneous flirtation with all of them. His cousin Lydia, in her second Season, was nowhere to be found. And his sister, Eleanor, also in her second Season, stood amongst the potted ferns in a far corner where she appeared to be engaged in a rather heated argument with their hostess’s brother, Viscount Waring.
Such a private and…passionate conversation would surely be remarked upon by the gossips. Resisting the desire to groan his frustration aloud, Ralston strode toward his sister first. The crush of guests made it slow going, however, and before he reached them, he witnessed the viscount giving a deep but still somehow irreverent bow before walking away.
Despite the subtle tension in her form, his sister’s expression was carefully devoid of emotion.
“What was that about?” Ralston muttered, stepping up beside her.
“Nothing.”
He wanted to press the issue since her response was clearly a falsehood, but Bridget’s robust laughter caught his attention, and he realized he’d have to intervene there first.
“Stay right here.”
Within twenty minutes, he had his three young charges gathered up and back under his watchful eye. He may not enjoy this particular responsibility, but he took it seriously. He had to.
“You really are the worst stick-in-the-mud, cousin,” Bridget complained. “I can’t believe I finally have my come out and I’m forced to endure your oppressive presence.”
“Be grateful,” Ralston noted dryly. “It’s me or Aunt Alice.”
Lydia groaned at the mention of her mother. “Do not invoke her name lest she appear by some wretched wizardry. Your escort is much appreciated, Rals. But you really don’t have to be so vigilant. We are quite capable of managing ourselves.”
Ralston gave her a pointed glance. “By hiding in the library?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Lydia argued. “I was doing my best to enjoy the evening inmyway.”
Ralston did not relent. “And if some disreputable gentleman had come upon you there? Alone. You’d have managed that, as well?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. The scenario apparently too preposterous for a response.
“Perhaps you should worry about yourself, brother,” Eleanor noted, “and your duty to the Fairchild family line. The dukedom has a legacy to uphold. You must produce proper heirs,” she added in a near perfect imitation of their father’s heavy tone.
Ralston narrowed his gaze. “Eavesdropping again, sister?”
She shrugged, unashamed.
“I know my duty,” he said with a familiar clenching of his stomach. His whole existence had been formed by his obligations to family and the expectations inherent in perpetuating the Fairchild legacy. “Never doubt it.”
“Really?” She arched her brows with a gleam in her dark eyes. “And how many lovely hopefuls have you danced with tonight?”
Ralston didn’t answer. There was no point. He never danced at these things. Such behavior tended to inspire hope in the matchmakers. Or worse—speculation and rumor. Just because he never had a chance to forget his duty, didn’t mean he couldn’t at least try to delay the inevitable.
