Page 51 of Ruthless with a Rogue
He glanced back over to where the trio had been standing, but it appeared they’d disbanded.“That is the plan.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised virginal misses aren’t even safe from you.”
“Any willing woman, Koz.Any willing woman,” he murmured, searching the bustling drawing room for a blonde-haired waif and coming up empty.Granted, he was fairly certain Miss Forester was no virgin.Where was she?It was too bloody crowded.
“Rutledge brought up you’re in need of funds.”
Derek’s gaze snapped to Kozington.The man’s hazel eyes held a tinge of apology.“I wish I could help on a greater scale, but I’m still working to clean up my father’s mess.”
Derek understood that all too well.
Kozington’s voice dropped to a near-inaudible murmur.“Any excess funds I do have go toThe Harborage.”
“I understand.”Derek did.Another deserving cause.There were many out there who needed help.And too few who had the capacity were willing to help.
“I’m leaving soon forThe Devil’s Eye.Care to join me?”
Derek grinned wolfishly.“Is that an invitation, Koz?I know exactly what you do when you visitMr.Drake.”
He’d expected a dry expression, maybe an eyeroll.But he should have known better, trying to instigate a Kozington.
“That sounds an awful lot like curiosity, Dunmore.Have an itch you need me to scratch?”His hazel gaze glinted dangerously as it roved over Derek.
Derek’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.“Impressive, Koz.I feel properly debauched with that single look.”
The seductive glimmer vanished from Kozington’s eyes, amusement instantly taking its place, and his face split in a grin.“Works like a charm, man or woman.”
“You know,” Derek said behind his whisky glass.“We always jest that Ryker is a cocksure shite-stirrer.But I think you’re more like him than you let on.”
“The difference is, Ryker is insufferable, and I’m not.”
Derek snorted into his glass.Touche.
He and Kozington chatted a bit longer and then the man bid his farewell to head for the hell.Derek meandered through the crowd.Not with the intention of looking for Miss Forester, of course.Which was good, because she didn’t seem to be anywhere around him no matter where he went.He rolled his shoulders, a bead of sweat sliding down his back.It didn’t take much for a room with this many bodies in it to become stifling.And Derek tended to feel those effects earlier than most.He could only handle people for so long.Even these people, who were more tolerable than most.
He spotted shimmering, perfectly styled silver hair standing by an open window and made straight for Dorothea, who was talking with Lady Rutledge.He sidled up next to the dowager and let out a grateful breath as the cool night breeze drifted over him.
“Excellent spot, Your Grace.”
From here he could see the entirety of the drawing room, which he was sure was Dorothea’s intention.Always watching.Though the way the two women glanced at him had the hair on the back of his neck lifting.
“What?”He frowned at them.
Lady Rutledge smiled wide, which only had him more suspicious.But it was Dorothea’s softhmmthat had him shifting on his feet.He didn’t trust thathmm.Not one bit.
And now he really didn’t want to ask the question he’d been planning to ask.He swept his gaze back over the drawing room.He spotted Lady Elliot, Miss Forester’s aunt, laughing with Lady Bentley.Lord Pennington stood with his wife, speaking with an investment banker.Mr.Hodge talked animatedly with his fellow academics.But no Miss Forester.He knew if he asked, Dorothea would read into it.And it would give her ideas.And that was always a very,verybad idea.
“Have either of you seen Miss Forester?”he blurted.Fuck.
Dorothea’s lips tilted up ever so slightly.Fuck again.
“I haven’t seen her in a while,” Lady Rutledge commented.“But she had said she’d wanted to take a stroll through the gardens.Perhaps she stepped out briefly to cool down.”
Derek scanned the room one last time.Definitely no Miss Forester.He made his way to the drawing room door.He was sure she was just outside, taking a reprieve from the stifling drawing room.Just as he’d been thinking of doing.But his stomach was twisted so tightly it was like someone had fisted it.He hurried down the hallway and through a salon that exited to the gardens.
He stepped outside and paused, breath puffing in the cool night air.In the quiet, cool night air.He frowned.No sign of Miss Forester.
Heading down the gravel path, he scanned the shrubs and darkened alcoves they formed.
