Page 10 of Ruthless with a Rogue
Her green and gold eyes twinkled up at him, and it took all his restraint to keep from smiling.Despite Derek’s best efforts, Lady Rutledge had managed to befriend him.She always partook in his investment meetings with Rutledge, unconventional as that was, and, well…she simply refused to be scared away.He’d eventually given up, and it had turned out her efforts had been genuine—she had sought nothing more than friendship.Plus, he admired her littlefuck youto the ton with her attire choices.
Derek also begrudgingly admitted she was unusually fun.He was so accustomed to Rafe’s serious demeanor—he was monikered the Iron Duke for a reason—and while Rutledge had loosened up since his marriage, he was still a stick in the mud, perhaps a twig in the mud now.It was a nice change of pace to have someone who laughed in Lady Rutledge.Sometimes.Derek could only tolerate it on occasion.Macabre was more his style.
Lord Rutledge took a discreet swig before hiding the flask in his coat, something heneverwould have done before marrying his wife.He grinned at Derek.“Consider it payback for the amount of my scotch you’ve drank.”
“Touche, Rutledge.Though I will want that flask back.”
Rutledge inclined his head.“I’ll get it back to you at our next meeting for the foundling home.I’m interested in hearing how Ironcrest’s expansion is faring.”
“You and I both.I hate to keep those children waiting.”
Derek glanced back at Lady Rutledge, who was fixated on someone on the dance floor.
“Isn’t that something…” she muttered.
“Pardon?”Derek asked.
Her head whipped back, and she smiled up at him.“Oh, ‘tis nothing!”She took hold of Rutledge’s hand, giving it a tug.“Perty and I must be going, but we will see you for supper soon, yes?”She blinked up at him earnestly.“Excellent, glad that is settled.Ta ta!”
He huffed out a discreet chuckle while Lady Rutledge dragged her husband away.She leaned forward and whispered something to Rutledge, and he threw his head back, erupting in laughter, his arm coming to wrap scandalously around his wife.The man could never stop touching her.
A rare love match in the duplicitous world of the ton.A hollowness filled Derek’s chest, and he reached for his flask—his filched flask.Bugger.Sometimes the burn was a welcome distraction.Sometimes it only made things worse.He supposed a quick shag would also serve nicely.
He exited the ballroom and headed left down a hallway that led to the salons, Lady Rutledge’s tinkling laughter still echoing in his ears.Rutledge certainly had his hands full with her.She was a whirlwind.
A whirlwind of skirts and piercing blue eyes rushed to the front of his mind, just as clear as when he’d seen them moments ago.He needed to discover the identity of the mystery blue-eyed angel.She had just been moved up to the top of his list of women to bed.The bed being optional.
8
Livy
“Thankyouforthepleasure of a dance, Miss Forester.”Lord Brambleton bowed over Livy’s hand.
She dipped a curtsy, a smile plastered on her face.As he walked away, she let her shoulders slump.A fan tapped her back, and she snapped upright.
“Thank you, Aunt Mellie,” she grumbled.
Tonight was exhausting.Her neck and back ached from keeping her posture faultless.Her cheeks were sore from smiling, most of which had been forced.And now her feet felt as though they’d been trampled by a pasture of cattle.Her energy seeped from her, and along with it, her good spirits.
A wide-eyed wonder had initially settled over her when her slippered feet had met the marble tiles of the Chesterfield’s grandiose entry.And that had just beenthe entry.When she’d stepped into the ballroom, filled with ladies in the most exquisite gowns she’d ever seen, all she’d been able to do was stand there dumbly underneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, her feet forgetting how to function.She’d never seen such brilliance.It was silly, but it had been like she’d walked into a whole new world.
One she was never meant to be a part of.
Then she’d spotted Warren from across the ballroom, caught his eye for the briefest of moments.And, in the most heartbreaking of fashions, he’d abruptly turned and presented his back to her, taking every bit of her delight with him.She knew he’d seen her too.One didn’t look like a stunned owl for nothing.
Her weathered gown, fashioned from inferior materials, lacking adornment or jewels, had suddenly seemed like a glaring symbol of inadequacy.She spread her fan and closed it repeatedly, staring blindly at the movement.She didn’t belong here.Could she really do this?If this were a Bernoulli trial, she could deem it a failure.
“None of that, Olivia.”
Livy glanced at Aunt Mellie, an endless number of concern lines crinkling her aunt’s forehead.
“I can see your morose thoughts.They’re hovering like gnats.We knew this would be difficult.We are coming up from the dredges.It will take time.I know Lord Brambleton is far from what you—or I—would consider a suitable husband, but being out on the dance floor allows you to be seen.I have been watching.The gentlemen are noticing.You are one of the most beautiful women in this room.”
She tried to smile for her aunt, and she managed something.By her aunt’s reaction, it wasn’t very good.It was hard to be excited about gentlemen noticing her.Because none of those gentlemen were Warren.And a tiny part of herself, the awkward girl who still lived inside, all gangly limbs and too-large front teeth, deflated at the thought that all she had to attract a man was the beauty she’d grown into.
For now.
She was going to change that.Remember the plan, Livy.By the time she was done,she’dbe sought after.Warren would have to line up behind all the gentlemen vying for her hand.Oh dear.That had been quite petty.It wasn’t Warren’s fault the world had created these strict rules, these rigid roles they were required to conform to.
