Page 52 of Wicked Rivals
“You are in my debt, dear brother,” Rafe announced as he sidled up beside him. He removed a slender hip flask out of his coat and took a quick swig.
“What’s that?” Ashton asked, nodding at the drink.
Rafe tapped the flask. “Courage in a bottle. You should try it.” He pressed it into Ashton’s hands.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Rosalind dancing with another man, laughing at something her partner said. His blood burned beneath his skin, and he raised the flask to his lips, only to gag. It tasted like sour brandy.
“What in blazes is in this?” He wiped his mouth on his gloved hand.
“It’s not important. You’ll thank me when I tell you how I’ve just secured you your future wife.”
Ashton took a long drink of the dreadful swill before handing it back to Rafe. “What are you on about?”
“When I was dancing with that lovely Scottish lady, I convinced her she would be able to win her freedom from your notorious clutches.”
He grabbed Rafe and forced him against the wall. “What?”
Rafe muttered a curse, and the color drained from his face.
“What’s the matter? I didn’t shove you that hard.”
“Have a care, brother. It’s my shoulder.”
Ashton pressed a hand into his brother’s shoulder. “Ah yes, your wound. A wound from your fall, or abullet, perhaps?”
“What?”
“Rosalind was robbed by a highwayman on the way to Lennox House. She thought at first that this man was me. Admit the truth to me now and I will decide how to deal with your foolishness another time.”
“I…” Ash pressed harder on the shoulder when he hesitated too long. Rafe sent a venomous glare toward Rosalind. “Hell of a shot it was too, through the dark and rain. I don’t know how she managed to hit me.”
Ashton groaned. His fool of a brother was really playing the part of a highwayman? What was next? Would levelheaded Joanna run off to Gretna Green with a stranger?
“Do you want to end up on thegallows, you fool?”
The sudden silence surrounding them made him and Rafe look around. To Ashton’s dismay, quite a few people had stopped in their conversations and had turned to stare at them. He’d lost sense of where he was in the midst of this argument.
“We shall discuss this tomorrow. Now, what were you saying about Rosalind?”
Rafe’s smile was cold. “If she asks you to play chess tonight, I’d take her up on it. Lie about how proficient you are.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Must I explain everything? You’ll figure it out.” Rafe shoved away from the wall and stalked off into the crowds.
“What was all that about?” Jonathan walked over to him, his face flushed.
“Nothing. Rafe is being irritating as usual. You’ve been dancing?”
A flicker of guilt passed over the young man’s features. “It’s my first real ball as a guest rather than an attendant. I find I rather like them.”
Ashton felt like a selfish fool. The last few months had been a seemingly endless whirlwind of dangerous threats thanks to Hugo, and in the midst of it all, Jonathan, as a newly recognized member of theton,had only now attended his first ball at the age of twenty-five. He should have been providing the young man with advice—Lord help him if he had asked Charles instead—but he seemed to be doing well enough on his own.
“Is it the dancing or the ladies you fancy?” Ashton asked.
“The dancing,” Jonathan replied without hesitation. His gaze sharpened. “Why?”
Ashton waved a hand to dismiss Jonathan’s suspicious look. “You don’t have to marry Audrey, you know. Simply because she took an interest in you does not mean you must return it. She takes interest in many things, then moves on to something else just as quickly. I wanted to make sure someone told you. None of the other League members would think to tell you because they assumed you knew. But you have a right to choose your wife.”
