The Duke poured him a drink. “Jasper, you will tell me now what in bloody hell is?—”
Milton downed the glass and wiped sweat off his upper lip. “It’ll have to wait, Wells, before Arty does something rash.”
“Such as?”
“Create the sort of ruckus he’s known for.” Milton poured himself another drink to steady his still shaking hands. “He’s separated Miss Winthrop from Finch, but the ensuing rumors will no doubt ruin her.” Milton set his glass down. “I urgently need to speak with Arty, and then I’ve a score to settle with that weasel Winthrop.”
Wellesley met Milton’s eyes. “Youwilltell me all before you leave this house tonight,” he ordered.
“Oi, Capt’n. You’ve me word.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The gentleman Elizabeth now danced with reminded, oddly, of her husband. He was as tall and lean, and exuded a similar predatory stance. He had the same coloring, same build somehow, as Milton. The resemblance was so uncanny she began to suspect them somehow?—
“Lady Milton, I hope you’ve not suffered too much at the hands of your husband this night.”
She stiffened in his arms. “I suffer only your comment, sir.”
His lips curled. “I am referring to the slight paid you by Lord and Lady Stevens.” His words sank in. “TheTondo not look favorably upon a purchased Scottish Barony.”
“And who are you, sir”—Elizabeth’s eyes blazed up at him—“to question my husband’s title?”
His laugh made her skin prickle. “But I introduced myself to you already,miss.” He demeaned her further. “I am Lord Mathers, the Duke of Lennox’s heir.”
“My lord, I must insist you call me by my?—”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Milton, for the slip,” Mathers murmured, though his face began to frown, and not unlike her husband when he looked displeased. “I say, madam, is that not your sister being carried off?”
Elizabeth turned, gasped, and immediately fled Lord Mathers to follow a tidy crowd down the hall. She could not believe Annabelle was here after all. Not once had she laid eyes on Bella or Papa; she’d assumed they’d forgone their invitation altogether.
The scene she stumbled onto, however, left little doubt her sister was in great distress.
Annabelle reclined upon a chaise, looking both disheveled and flushed, her ankle bandaged with her stocking while a fair-haired gentleman spoke in measured tones to Papa, whose face shone bright with disagreement. Two ladies, meanwhile, fanned the Countess of Denbigh in rapid flutter as onlookers whispered words Elizabeth only thinly caught:disgraceful — just like the sister — utterly ruined — shameless!
She pushed her way through the crowd toward Annabelle before?—
“OohLizzie, is it not romantic?” gushed Lady Stanton.
Elizabeth gaped at her former neighbor. “I … beg your pardon?”
“Why, Mr. Harris has just proposed and been accepted by your sister! Such a handsome young man too, as handsome as your own charming husband. You Winthrop girlsdoknow how to catch them.” She stifled a giggle.
Elizabeth was beyond all patience for this lady. She shoved past her to envelop Annabelle in a protective embrace. “Bella, dearest, what has happened?” she whispered into her sister’s ear.
Annabelle sank her head to Elizabeth’s breast. “I am ruined, Lizzie.” Her voice caught. “Mr. Harris has ruined me.”
Elizabeth righted herself. “Out, everyone,” she commanded as multiple heads swiveled. “This is a family matter requiring great delicacy, so I beg you, please, return to the dance. Lord Winthrop and I will see to my sister’s wellbeing.”
The Countess of Denbigh pursed her lips in clear disapproval but allowed herself to be led from the room by her entourage. The remaining gawkers followed suit, including Lady Stanton, who blew Elizabeth a parting kiss.
She ignored the impossible woman’s cheek and turned her attention to her father and the man she presumed was Mr. Harris. “I will hear from each of you now as to what has occurred.” She fixed her gaze on Harris first. “Starting with you, sir.”
“Lady Milton, I have been courting your sister ever since the happy occasion of your wedding, being so enamored of her that I?—”
“Lizzie, do not listen to a word this man says!” Papa cut in. “Why, he is the very cheat who forced my hand the night I lost you to the Baron! It was inhisgaming den.”
Annabelle’s face drained of color.
