Page 24 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
She was a free spirit. Her keen wit made for energizing conversation while her sparkling eyes could draw a man in, seemingly without conscious effort on her part. Macie was beautiful, but she didn’t seem to care. If anything, in her eyes, her loveliness was a liability. Her pretty face made her even more attractive to theLord Nobswho lusted after her fortune, so she’d grown adept at dulling her natural radiance.
But tonight was different. On this night, she had not chosen a disguise. To the contrary, she had shined a beacon on herself. Half of the men in the place watched her like hungry wolves. The other half wished they could escape the knowing view of their wives and sweethearts, if only long enough to drink her in.
And he was no different. His jaw clenched at the thought.
By hellfire, he needed a distraction. Spotting one of Jon’s business partners, he engaged him in an increasingly half-hearted conversation. Edmund Barlow might have possessed a genius for making money, but as the man droned on, Finn started looking for another diversion. How in blazes could Jon and his associate endure the trivial logistics of their latest venture? To Finn, it was a bloody mystery. He’d never given a damn about squeezing every penny of profit from an enterprise. Putting Scrooge to shame haggling over the cost of linens was not in his nature. Designing a new structure or planning the restoration of a past-its-prime building engaged both his intellect and his instincts.
He tugged at the tie encircling his throat. Bloody hell, the length of silk felt like a noose. He seldom bothered with such formalities, but tonight, he’d put in an effort to at least look the part of Macie’s devoted escort. God knew he didn’t belong here, surrounded by elites who turned up their noses at the likes of him.
He had money. More money than most of these highborn milksops. But in their world, that wasn’t enough. Like Macie’s father with hisnew moneyfortune, Finn’s family had earned their wealth. In the eyes of pasty nobles and elite sots, the notion of actually working for a shilling was beneath them. But marrying into a fortune—that was different.
How bloody ironic.
Finn’s father had toiled day and night to parlay their family distillery into a thriving enterprise that supplied whisky to the finest establishments in Scotland. For decades, his father had endeavored to secure the company’s future. Now it was Finn’s turn.
God only knew his father seldom looked upon him with pride. Not that he could blame his father. In the years after he’d graduated from university, he had not distinguished himself inthe man’s eyes. Unlike his older brother, the heir apparent and responsible model of business and propriety. This deal with the Mason empire was his chance to prove himself. To his father.
And to himself.
Considering the stakes of the fortnight to come, he pulled in a breath. The funds generated by the contracts with Mason Enterprises would ensure the company’s financial stability for years to come. He had to close this deal.
It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Jon Mason was an old friend, a man he’d have trusted with his life. At one time, that is. Since they’d been rough-and-tumble lads, they had raised hell together. Jon had been there to celebrate triumphs and to offer a shoulder and a stiff drink in that horrible time when grief and guilt threatened to tear Finn’s heart to pieces. But now, everything had changed. Who in blazes could ever have predicted that Jon would use the contracts Finn needed as leverage?
Bloody hell.
Truth be told, he understood Jon’s motives. He needed to protect his sister, and he knew Finn would go along with his devil’s bargain. If only for Macie’s sake. Despite her rebellious streak, the lass had been sheltered. Macie had never seen the true ugliness of the world. Predators did not confine their deeds to deserted alleys. A carefully honed smile and expensive suit could provide a dangerous man an effective disguise.
Years ago, he had learned that hard, ugly lesson. He hadn’t been able to protect his vivacious cousin from the brutal act of a so-called gentleman. An invisible fist dug into Finn’s gut. After enduring the painful aftermath of Colleen’s vile murder, he would not wish that misery on anyone. Not even an old friend who’d resorted to civilized blackmail.
He would protect Macie. Whether or not she liked it.
While other guests chatted amiably and aimlessly, Finn’s attention drifted back to Macie. She stood by an elegantly appointed table laden with ridiculously small bits of cake, engaged in conversation with their hostess. By thunder, Macie’s hands moved as animatedly as her mouth. Lady Evansdale, now the widow of an earl, had taken to the suffragette cause since her husband’s untimely demise—a cause Macie appeared eager to join.
Intrigued by this woman he’d known since she was a girl, he followed Macie’s every gesture. Took in every smile. Drank in the way her almond-shaped green eyes gleamed with unabashed delight. She was a beauty. With her deep brown hair swept into an appealing style and her elegant gown, she could’ve had her pick of every unattached man in the place. But Macie had no interest in flirting or seduction. Rather, she relished the opportunity to engage in a clever, energetic discussion. Watching her, he realized that he truly didn’t want to look away.How blasted strange.
Forcing himself to focus on something—anything—but Macie, he glanced around at the lavish decor. Ladies in silk conversed as light from the chandeliers reflected off their gems. Men clad in suits of the finest wool tugged at their tight collars when they thought their wives were not looking. A dark-haired jewel of the London stage strolled past, her hand resting on the arm of an obscenely wealthy industrialist. She flashed a coquettish smile, then turned a narrow-eyed gaze on the prune of a man who’d financed her West End play.
The beautiful soprano cast a lingering glance over her shoulder, but Finn’s attention wandered. Not long before that night, he might have felt emboldened by the invitation in her gaze. He might have endeavored to charm his way into her bed. But now, the thought left him cold.
Tonight, he could scarcely take his eyes off Macie.
How bloody unexpected.
With considerable effort, he forced his attention to study the intricate mural on the ceiling. The artist had not rivaled Michelangelo. But the painter had achieved quite a feat with the complexity of the work.
Yet again, his gaze drifted to Macie, a magnet pulling to true north.
It was a bloody losing battle.
While conversing with Macie and their hostess, Nell slanted him a glance. A slight smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. Had she noticed the way his attention had riveted to Macie? She took a small sip from her glass, as if to disguise her amusement. Suddenly, Nell appeared to choke on her drink.
A man whose suit hung too loosely on his long-limbed frame approached the women.Lord Drayton.But Nell looked past him, appearing to search for someone.
Bollocks.Was the man’s harpy of a mother close behind?
Finn moved closer, observing their hostess’s cordial greeting to Lady Drayton’s spawn and the conversation that followed. Though he couldn’t make out their words, the women appeared quite engaged by the astronomer’s remarks.
Continuing to stay at a distance, Finn watched as Macie snapped open her lace fan with a flick of her wrist, lightly fanning herself while a smile played on her mouth. Was it his imagination, or had she actually blushed? He had not believed it possible, but this gangly, falling-over-his-own-feet man appeared to be melting Macie’s ice right before their eyes.
