Chapter Ten
“Enjoying yourself?” Renardasked.
“Hardly.” Percy considered the nearest terrace and how likely he’d break his neck from one story. Since Danny had escorted her delightfully exacting sister away—practically dragged by the hair—he’d absconded from no fewer than six matrons and their daughters of ‘virtuous and obedient manner.’ As if he were interested in keeping a woman like a dog to come when called and pant at his feet. He wished the mothers shared those morals.
“If anything, Hamish underplayed the boldness of marriageable ladies and their relations.”
One such woman had cornered him as he’d exited the privy to inform him she had ‘childbearing hips’ and would permit dalliances on his part after the vows were made, discreetly of course.
Fingers curling into fists, Percy couldn’t help his outrage. The lady’s cheeks had bloomed the color of cooked beets, her hands had shaken at her sides, no doubt put up to such a humiliating conversation by a grasping mother.
If the lady had come of her own volition, he’d have welcomed the brash speech and flirted shamelessly, but no woman here had the confidence to speak as they wished and ask what they wanted without shame. None except one.
“That look spells trouble,” Renard said.
Percy smirked. “Coming to a realization is all.”
Renard’s brow shot up. “Care to share?”
“Not with you.”
Renard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Allow me to escort my sister from the premises before you set anything ablaze, please.”
“Really, Ren, I’m offended to see you think so little of me.”
“On the contrary,” Renard said. “If half of what I know you to be capable of is accurate, I merely wish not to be a witness when the inspector comes later for questioning.”
“You’d leave to undermine the implication?” Percy placed a hand on his chest. “I’m touched.”
“That”—Renard smiled—“and Camille said I may return to the house if I bring my sister along.”
Talk about a dog on a leash. The sooner the Duchess of Lux popped out an heir, the sooner Renard may regain a module of dignity.
Men in love remained the poorest of bastards.
“Take heed,” Renard warned, nodding over Percy’s shoulder. “Another lady approaches, and this one looks determined.”
Never mind the dogs; it was the hounds out for the season’s latest fox he needed to worry about.
“Run while you can,” Percy said.
Renard didn’t need to be told twice.
Percy put on his best glare and turned, ready to chew off his arm if need be, to get away from the latest hunter, only to find himself caught in a most welcome trap. “Lady Daniella.”
She curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“So formal.” He smiled, his mood instantly lifting knowing the lady’s other side wasn’t nearly so. “Come to ask me to dance?” he teased.
“Yes.”
He blinked at her serious expression. “A lady asking a gentleman.” The woman never ceased to surprise. “Isn’t that a social faux pas?”
“I wouldn’t think you of all people would mind?”
The knowing look in her eye set his blood pumping. “Indeed.” He dropped the elegant tone and reverted to the tongue of his childhood speech. “A rough-n-tumble boy likes a bonnie face with spirit.”
“What you call ‘spirit,’ my mama would call ill-breeding.”
