Page 15 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Alex did remember, and his heart plummeted.
Hamish was invited to the main ball itself, like the rest of London, but guests invited to the days before and after were strictly curated by Mary herself. Hamish had not made the list.
That is, until Alex, drunk and in a state of high spirits, told him to come anyway.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Alex muttered. “I’ll have to tell Mother what I’ve done. Oh, what a mess.”
“It is a most regrettable predicament, indeed,” Hamish agreed. “I’ll charm her, don’t worry.”
“Lady Caldecott is already here, with a niece. She was very unfriendly to me. I can’t think of what I’ve done to offend her.”
“A niece? Isn’t that the remarkably pretty one, the one that’s not out yet? Did she come out after all?”
“She was pretty, yes,” Alex acknowledged. “Miss Abigail Atwater, if I recall correctly.”
Hamish wrinkled his nose. “Oh, that’s the older one. Generally regarded as quite plain.”
“I didn’t think she was plain. And you are in no condition to be casting remarks upon the appearance of others, Hamish.”
“That is true,” Hamish conceded, not offended at all. “I think I know why Lady Caldecott was unfriendly to you.”
“Do enlighten me.”
“She doesn’t want you getting in her niece’s way.”
Alex paused, blinking. “What on earth do you mean?”
Hamish surreptitiously took out a hip flask from his waistcoat pocket and took a swig. He offered it to Alex, who shook his head. Mary would only smell it on his breath. Or worse, William would.
“If she’s brought the niece to this ball, it means she wants the girl to make a good match,” Hamish explained. “She’s acting as aduennato her niece. And you, my flirtatious rake of a friend, are not at all the sort of suitor she’d like Miss Atwater to have. She’s warning you away, I’m afraid.”
Alex blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He wasn’t surewhyhe hadn’t thought of it. Alex knew he had a certain kind of reputation. He liked people, and he liked making friends, male and female. He was vaguely aware that his friendliness towards women could be misinterpreted, but it had never quite occurred to him how strong his reputation had become.
It also occurred to him that, if he were a woman, he wouldn’t have the luxury of simply being unaware of his reputation.
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s the way things are,” Hamish agreed, faintly sympathetic. “Still, it hardly matters, does it? Just steer clear of Lady Caldecott and the niece. Easy enough, isn’t it?”
“Easy enough,” Alex echoed mechanically.
There was an awkward pause after that, broken only by Hamish noisily sipping from his flask again.
And then they heard the rattle of carriage wheels on gravel once more. Alex glanced over his shoulder, and his heart immediately sank.
“Oh, no,” he muttered. “Recognise that crest?”
The carriage was well-lacquered, and rather unnecessarily pulled by four horses instead of just two. Boxes and suitcases were piled on top, well lashed down. The carriage lurched to a halt in front of the two men, spilling gravel everywhere, and the door flew open.
Lord Graham Donovan, dandy extraordinaire and well-knownartiste, stepped nimbly down from his carriage.
“Lord Alexander,” he greeted delicately, lifting a quizzing glass to inspect them both. “And Lord Hamish Grey, I do declare. How kind of you to welcome me to your home. Or rather, your brother’s home, in your case, Lord Alexander.”
Alex forced a smile. “Lord Donovan. How excellent to see you. I’m surprised you could drag yourself away from your canvases to visit.”
“One must fulfil one’s social obligations. The green suit is a bold choice, Lord Alexander. You are to be commended.”
Am I? Am I really?
