His lordshipturned. “Yes?”
“Lord Stephen Farlisle, my lord.”
His browcreased. “Who?”
Christ.“Roxwaithe’s brother,” he reluctantly clarified.
Recognition litLord Gray’s expression. Of course it bloody did. Everyone knew hisbloody brother. “Ah, Roxwaithe. Good man. And you’re hisbrother?”
Stephen held onto his pleasant expression. “Yes.”
“Good. Good. Damned crush, this. Can’t put two thoughtstogether.”
Pushing asidehis ire, Stephen continued, “I wonder if I might bend your ear onan investment opportunity.”
“What? Loud as the dickens in here.”
Stephen raisedhis voice. “An investment opportunity, but also a charitableone.”
“What? Charity? Don’t know much about that. Have to ask LadyGray on that one. She’s the one who likes doffing out coin onunfortunates.”
“This is both, Gray.”
“Aninvestment, you say?” Gray looked him over. “Discussed thisinvestment with your brother?”
Stephen grittedhis teeth. “Of course.” In that he’d mentioned his intention toform a foundation to his brother once in passing and Oliver hadgrunted in return.
“Always gets in on the ground floor, Roxwaithe. Doubled hisfortune, rumour has it.”
“Mybrother is astute.” And miserly, and judgemental, and an all aroundarse.
“Yes, well, better at managing dosh, isn’t he? Doubled hisfortune.” He nodded sagely.
Stephen’s handscurled to fists. Lord Gray didn’t mean that as a dig. The manclearly didn’t know anything about Stephen’s own fortune, or to beprecise, his lack of one. “Shall I attend you tomorrow,Gray?”
“Ifyou want. Will make sure her ladyship is also present. She’s theone who likes charities, what.” Lord Gray’s gaze drifted pasthim.
Stephen knewwhen to retreat. “Thank you, Gray,” he said and, with a stiff bow,he left.
As he circledthe ballroom, he consulted his pocket watch. Twenty more minutesand it would not be untoward of him to leave. With one opportunitygained, the ball wasn’t a complete waste.
Absently, herotated his wrist, the action not entirely fluid. Once, he’d livedfor amusement, the wilder the better. Who would have thought at theage of almost thirty-one he would be desirous most of his bed? Andwhat’s more, to be alone in it.
From across theballroom, a woman stared.
He stared back.A small smile played about her rosebud mouth as she noticed hisregard. Dark hair piled atop her head, a few tendrils teasing along, creamy neck that flowed into straight shoulders and animpressive bosom.
Stephen kept hisexpression impassive. Her name sat on the tip of his tongue and hewas certain he would have been introduced to her at one point oranother. However, his first season had been spent in pursuit ofreckless decadence, and the second he’d hied to the Continent withHarbor. His third and fourth… He’d been unable to do much ofanything in what would have been his third and fourth.
Flicking her fanopen, her gaze met his over the top of it, one delicate browarching.
His own browsdrew into a frown. Was she flirting with him?
“Lord Stephen,” a soft voice beside him said.
He stiffened.Ah, bollocks. “Good evening, my lady.”
Lady Demartine’sexpression was faintly chiding. “It has been an age since I haveseen you, Lord Stephen,” she gently rebuked.
