“You’d stay at Huntington House, of course,” Lady Chase added, when Ciaran remained silent. “You’d be doing your brother a favor if you went. The house is undergoing some repairs. He wants someone there to keep an eye on things, but he and Iris don’t intend to go this season.”
Ciaran’s sister-in-law Iris, wife to his eldest brother Finn, the Marquess of Huntington had recently given birth to a baby girl. Georgiana Elizabeth Knight, otherwise known as Georgie. She was a plump, pink and white little lass, with a gummy smile destined to render every man she encountered her willing slave, starting with her Uncle Ciaran. The happy little family planned to stay tucked snugly up at the country estate for the time being.
Ciaran scraped together a half-hearted smile. “I’ll think about it.”
But he knew damn well going to London wouldn’t solve anything. Short of a return to Scotland nothing would, yet there was no point in goingthere, either.
That was the trouble. There was no point in being anywhere.
Lady Chase frowned. She was an astute old thing, and she knew an empty promise when she heard one. Ciaran braced himself for an argument, but before Lady Chase could get a word out, she was interrupted by a murmur of feminine voices coming down the stairs.
Lady Atherton and her lady’s maid stepped onto the first-floor landing. “Here we are, my lady.” The maid led Lady Atherton down the final flight of stairs and turned her over to Ciaran with a bright smile. “Why, you’ll be the envy of Brighton with such a handsome escort.”
Lady Chase peered up at Ciaran and let out a dry huff. “Handsome, is he? With that sour face? Humph. He looks like he just swallowed a bug.”
Ciaran grinned in spite of himself. He was a jaded, selfish rake and Lady Chase was a bad-tempered harridan, but they kept each other amused. He doted on her, and though she would have died before admitting it, he knew he was secretly her favorite.
He offered her an exaggerated bow. “Not a bug, my lady, only a nip or two of port. You don’t object to an escort who’s in his cups, do you?”
“Eh, whatever keeps the smile on your face, my boy.” Lady Chase wrapped her skeletal fingers around his arm and turned to Lady Atherton. “Shall we go? Come along, Albina.”
Ciaran ushered his two elderly companions out the door and into the carriage. He didn’t expect to get much pleasure out of the evening, but thanks to Lady Chase at least the start of it had proved more amusing than he’d expected.
As it happened, the rest of it turned out to be…if not pleasurable, certainly more interesting than most musical evenings. It started when they reached the New Assembly Rooms. Since the day of the bout, Ciaran had gotten into the habit of searching for a headful of shining red hair wherever he went, and tonight was no different. As soon as they entered, he glanced from one corner of the room to the other, looking for a glint of copper.
He hadn’t expected to actuallyfindher. He’d half-reconciled himself to the possibility she’d left Brighton altogether.
She hadn’t.
He came to a complete stop, gawking at her like an utter fool. It was certainlyher—there was no mistaking that hair—but what with being kicked in the face and bleeding all over himself, he hadn’t really gotten a proper look at her before.
Now, he went still and just stared at her.
She was wearing a pale-yellow gown that brought out her vivid hair, and Ciaran realized with a start her delicate face was the most perfect example of refined, ladylike English beauty he’d ever seen.
Except for her mouth. That stubborn tilt, the full lower lip—it was too sensual to be considered respectable. A trickle of sweat inched down Ciaran’s neck. Jesus, that mouth was almost indecent. How the devil hadthatescaped his attention before?
He had an absurd urge to rush over to her before she could vanish again, but they hadn’t been introduced, and then there was that tiny problem of his unforgiveable behavior at the bout the other day.
No, he’d have to bide his time for now, and hope for a chance later in the evening. “This way, ma’am.” He led Lady Chase and Lady Atherton to chairs just to the right and a few rows back, where he could keep an eye on his redhead.
Then he simply sat back and watched her. She held her bright head high, her face directed toward the front of the room where an ensemble of glee singers gathered around a lady seated at a pianoforte. When he’d first come upon her on the beach, there’d been a spark in her dark brown eyes, and he imagined it there now as she absorbed everything around her, alive to every note, every vibration of the music.
Just…alive.
Maybe that was why he’d resisted the idea of a friendship between them. Half-dead things tended to resent live ones. Live things were, after all, a great deal of work. She’d already irritated him into giving a damn again. What was next? Laughter, hopefulness, a returning interest in life? Because it sounded exhausting—
“Pretty thing, isn’t she?” Lady Chase nudged him in the ribs.
“Who?” Ciaran asked, dragging his gaze to her.
“Who?” Lady Chase snorted. “Do you suppose I’m blind? The young lady you can’t take your eyes off, of course.”
Ciaran swallowed. No use denying it. “Do you know who she is?”
Lady Chase raised her quizzing glass to her eyes. “Hmmm. That red hair…unusual, isn’t it? She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her face. I’m certain I’ve never laid eyes on her companions before.”
Ciaran had been so preoccupied with his redheaded lady he hadn’t noticed her companions, but now Lady Chase mentioned it he saw she was sitting next to a pretty, dark-haired girl about her own age. He’d never seen the girl before, and he also didn’t recognize the pinch-faced matron on her other side.
