Page 39 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Following the direction of Lady Eddington’s gaze, his eyes landed on a comely, petite blonde. She was laughing with a gentleman, her eyes crinkled in merriment and a large smile lighting her face.
“I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance,” Finlay said, not taking his eyes off Miss Eddington as he continued to admire her, “but perhaps you can arrange an introduction after I finish my conversation with Lord Mattonfeld.”
“Of course.” Lady Eddington clutched a hand to her chest. “Let me not keep you gentlemen any longer from your important discussion.”
She flitted away, her path leading directly to her daughter. Grabbing the younger woman’s arm, she appeared to whisper rapidly in her ear. Finlay smiled when the pretty young woman glanced up and met his eyes, a blush stealing over her porcelain cheeks.
“Eddington holds Gloucestershire.” Finlay turned as Lord Mattonfeld inclined his head toward where the viscountess spoke with her daughter. “That is just the sort of connection I’m certain Earl Matthews encouraged you to make.”
His mood soured at the reminder, but Finlay nodded his head. “Indeed,” he said simply.
Movement over her shoulder drew his attention, and his breath caught in his throat as his gaze collided with a pair of flinty blue eyes. A bubble of surprise rose like a geyser in his throat, and he turned his head aside to cough into his hand.
“Are you well?” Mattonfeld asked, summoning a footman with a jerk of his head.
Accepting the glass of champagne offered to him with eager hands, Finlay gulped an uncomfortable swallow around his coughs. Pushing down hiccups, he offered the marquess an apologetic nod. “I am, thank you. Sometimes the sight of a beautiful woman still robs me of my breath.”
The older man’s lips twitched, and he looked toward Miss Eddington, obviously believing she was the cause of his distress. “She has an impeccable reputation, stellar connections, and no doubt has been trained in the art of being a political hostess. She’d add legitimacy to your campaign and cement your allegiance to the opposition.” Mattonfeld studied the lady in question for a moment. “Plus, she’s quite handsome. Begetting an heir on her would not be a hardship, I’m sure.”
During the marquess’s recitation, Finlay forced himself to listen even as he tracked Charlotte’s movements across the music room. When the man paused, he licked his lips and said, albeit with some hoarseness, “I suppose my path is clear.”
Mattonfeld clapped him on the back, almost startling another round of coughs out of him. “Best of luck, my lord. Do have your secretary contact mine to schedule a meeting. There’s much to discuss, but I’m cognizant you have more pressing matters to see to at present.”
Finlay delivered a strained smile as the older man departed for a political conversation on the other side of the room. Pivoting, he considered Lady Eddington and her daughter, willing his feet to move in their direction. How was it that he’d been amenable to the prospect of meeting Miss Eddington just a minute prior, but now the idea of doing so left him peculiarly weary?
Weobley. Influence. Legacy. Remembering his goals, he squared his shoulders and resolved to charm Miss Eddington until she swooned.
“Firthwell, you appear as if you sucked on a lemon. Not your best look.”
Finlay peered down into the face of a thoroughly diverted Lady Flora Campbell. The way every nerve ending in his body hummed told him Charlotte stood next to her. “I don’t know what you mean?”
The Scotswoman cast her eyes dramatically to the ceiling, and Finlay would swear she mumbled, “My God, they’re perfect for each other.” He scowled. Surely he heard her wrong.
After exchanging greetings with the two women, Lady Flora surveyed the room. “Are you bored to tears yet? As I suspected, this musicale was just an excuse for party members to plot the takeover of Commons.”
“Perhaps they’re here for free food and champagne. I know that’s the reason for my attendance.”
Finlay and Flora chuckled in unison. As others turned in their direction, his eyes refused to budge from Charlotte’s nonplussed face.
Flora‘s dimples flashed. “That’s certainly my reason for attending every blasted event Niall has insisted I appear at.”
The tightness in his chest dissolved in the glow of Charlotte’s non-smile.“Despite my lofty aspirations, I suspect my motivation for attending is not much different.”
“That’s because in spite of your ambitions, you’ve retained your good sense.” Flora waved her hand as he imagined she flicked her crop at an unruly yearling’s backside. “Has Mattonfeld given you his endorsement?”
“He’s asked me to contact his secretary so we can discuss the issues further.”
Charlotte stood just to his left, her presence a beacon of warmth and light. It took every ounce of strength in him not to turn to her like a flower in the sun.
“That’s excellent, Firthwell.” Lady Flora clapped her hands together. “Niall has mentioned that Mattonfeld can be difficult, and the fact that he asked you to set an appointment with him is an encouraging sign.”
“I hope so,” Finlay grumbled, permitting himself a brief glance in Charlotte’s direction.
She was stunning. In the blink of an eye, he took in how the sapphire blue of her gown made it appear as if her skin were comprised of the finest cream. Her pitch-dark locks were twisted into a simple but flattering coiffure that showcased her graceful features and firm jaw. A quick glance down revealed her sinful figure accentuated in silk and lace.
Unbidden thoughts of their one night together crowded his mind. Watching her pale skin turn pink with arousal beneath his fingertips. Her nipples hardening as be blew his warm breath against them. Her back arching as she cried out wordlessly in ecstasy.
Finlay shifted his stance. My God, what in the hell was he doing to himself? His fierce attraction to her could easily become a dangerous liability.
