Tomorrow.
He’d meet her and Callan at the river tomorrow, and he’d ask her then. He’d have the cook pack a special picnic—he’d learned over the weeks that Athena had a sweet tooth—and he’d wait until the lads were in the water, and he’d ask her then.
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Most men considered jewels and townhomes when planning to engage a new mistress, but here he was thinking of sweet cream and pastries and the summer sun.
But first, he had to get through this evening. Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d danced one dance with a debutante then bid his farewells to the hostess, would it?
Honestly, notallof the young ladies were bores. There were a few that were too…bubblyfor his tastes, which made him feel ancient. A few were pleasant enough but were far too interested in other male guests for Cash to assume they were actually interested in him, which bothered him not one whit. Now that he considered it, Blabloblal—the man he was supposed to be listening to, damnation—was currently engaged to one of those young ladies.
But he just wasn’tinterestedin any of the young ladies paraded in front of him thus far, despite his mother’s best attempts to see him paired off. In fact, he agreed with Athena that most of Society had their heads stuck up their?—
You’re thinking of her again.
Blast!
It was likely bad form to be thinking of one’s soon-to-be-doxy while impassively eyeing the buffet of marriage-minded young misses spread out on the dance floor.
I thought you decided not to marry?
Scowling once more, Cash didn’t even bother to curtail his movement as he lifted his hand to rub at his temples. Did he care if his companions thought him rude? No. He was oftenthought of as rude, but dukes were allowed to be rude.
“What do you say, Cashard?”
Blabloblal’s question, asked with a faint smirk, jerked Cash’s attention back to the conversation, and let him know the other man knew he wasn’t paying attention. Luckily, the viscount had better manners than he did; enough to take pity on Cash and re-frame the query.
“I was just commenting to my father that the Countess has put together a stellar crop of young offerings, eh? And as near as I can tell, the house party has been a success.”
“That’s right,” grunted Laird Oliphant. “Many of the girls have found themselves fiancés, which is apparently the point.”
Although Cash didn’t respond, Blabloblal chuckled dutifully. “Seeing as how I was lucky enough to be one of those ‘found fiancés,’ I cannae say I complain. I will be forever grateful the Countess put on such an affair.”
“Melanie—I mean, Lady Dumpkins—loves to host this revel,” the laird—who was apparently on more intimate terms with the Countess than Cash had realized—admitted. “She is proud that she can take credit for matching young ladies to the right men.” He leaned closer and winked over the rim of his champagne flute. “Where ‘the right men’ means men with funds and titles, of course.”
“Of course,” murmured Cash, his gaze sweeping the room, wondering how quickly he could make his excuses.
Blabloblal didn’t seem to be in a hurry, however. Why should he, when the lovely young woman he was engaged to—that was her, over there in the red, chatting happily with the book-loving wallflower, although Cash would be damned if he could recall either of their names—was sending Blabloblal flirtatious smiles?
“I am just pleased my Tiffany had a reason not to go hunting for ‘the right man’ before she found me,” Blabloblal chuckled. “She kenned who she wanted from the beginning, just took us awhile to get around to it. We can weather the scandal.”
“Aye, and speaking of scandal, my daughter’s one of the ones no’ matched. Ye’re dancing with her tonight, Cashard.”
The man’s wry tone, and the fact he addressed Cash directly, had the younger man’s eyes narrowing as he tried to pick back through the previous minutes’ conversation. Something about a scandal, wasn’t it?
“Really?” he murmured noncommittally, then turned to place his almost-untouched flute on the tray of a passing footman. “How delightful.”
While Blabloblal snorted quietly, the laird turned toward the large double doors. “I ken she’s here, because I dragged her myself. But she’s avoiding her obligations, and likely found a friend to— Och, here they are!”
Cash glanced once across the room at the gaggle of females who’d just entered. Gaggle? Herd? Flock?
A flock of women?
A swarm? A horde of women? A brood?
No, amurderof women.
Cash straightened, tugging on his waistcoat, although he knew he looked impeccable. Best to get this over with…
Slowly, as if his mind couldn’t quite accept what his eyes had glimpsed, his gaze was dragged back across the ballroom to where the flock-gaggle-horde-murder was pulling a reluctant member toward him.
