Page 39 of Nothing But a Rakehell
“You didn’t know your treasure was awaiting you in London,” Sterne laughed.
“I send up thanks for her every day,” Tensford said. “And I don’t mean for the money. I would be still be happy, even if she had come with only the small dowry I thought she had.”
“You wouldn’t be throwing a house party,” Keswick said wryly. “And I don’t know whether to be thankful for that or not.”
A cry of surprise and triumph rang out. “I think I’ve found one, my lord!” Miss Ruddock waved her fist in the air.
“Let us see it, then,” he called and set out for her.
“He’s in his element,” Sterne said. “I’m going to investigate the cliff. You?”
Keswick shrugged. “I’ll stay here and look. You go on.”
He was definitely not in his element.
Circling, he tried not to look toward Lady Glory. She’d done something to him, that wicked girl. He couldn’t settle. He, a man of appetites, found them all dried up. He wasn’t hungry. Tensford’s best cheroots held no appeal. He wasn’t even drinking. Last night he’d taken a tumbler of brandy in the billiards room and stared at it for hours instead of tossing it back. He’d barely slept last night, waking again and again, feeling hot and on edge while his blood pounded for . . . what he wouldn’t give it.
And he cursed her through it all, for he was supposed to be done with feeling such things, and with longing for things that could not be his.
And she? Lady Cool as a Cucumber Glory hadn’t glanced his way all morning. He’d thought she might stay back at the house with her sister and with those who could not summon up enthusiasm for Tensford’s hobby, but no. Here she sat, talking contentedly with Miss Munroe while he moved among the searchers and tried to avoid Lady Tresham, who trailed after him like a cat on the hunt.
He could scarcely believe he was the only one sneaking looks at Lady Glory. Surely not every man here was a blind fool? The sunlight swam in auburn eddies amongst her curls and she practically glowed in a simple white gown, covered with an overdress of spring-green linen.
He dragged his eyes away and thought he should go and join Tensford as both protection and distraction, but paused when he heard his name.
Narrowing his eyes, he moved toward the cliff. Mr. Lycett stood there with another gentleman, and it was he who had spoken.
Keswick bent down, as if examining and following a vein of rock, and listened.
“He’ll never offer for her.” Lycett was faced away from Glory, speaking to his friend, but he looked over his shoulder and Keswick quickly reached out to pull at a ridge of rock.
Just another fool prowling among the rocks. Nothing to see here.
“She’s pretty enough,” Lycett admitted. “And her portion is reputed to be quite respectable. But I don’t know. They say she can ride. Yet she doesn’t dance at all.”
“Yes, such a disaster,” his friend agreed in a tone of exaggeration. “Because so many men I know are always pining to dance with their wives.”
“She would never be able to chase after the children.”
“That’s what nursemaids are for.”
“In all honesty, a thought keeps running through my head.” Lycett lowered his tone and Keswick had to strain to hear him. “If a horse had suffered such an injury, it would have been shot. I’m not sure I can keep that from running about my mind.”
Keswick straightened. He turned, outrage flaring high and running hot through all of his limbs, but Sterne was passing the pair and heading straight for him. He tried to step around his friend, but Sterne clamped a hand on his shoulder.
“Did you hear what that worm just said?” he demanded.
“Yes,” his friend said tightly. “But drawing attention to it will not help the lady.” He held up a bucket he’d picked up. “Let’s take a big scoop of this debris over to Lady Glory,” he said clearly.
“I’d like to dump a bucket over that arse’s head,” he grumbled.
“Come along, she’s alone now. Let’s be sure she doesn’t stay that way.”
“You go.” Keswick turned away. “It’s better if I stay away.”
“Why?”
He just looked at his friend.
