Page 17 of The Vagabond Viscount
I am a beggar amongst wealth and privilege. What can I dare to offer any woman?
For a brief moment, he found himself envying the footmen and maids who were serving the guests. They knew their place in the world and were able to live true to it. He was like a poor relative who spent their days living on the edge of poverty, dependent upon the good favor of others.
Tonight’s party was like most others at this time of the year. London was slowly coming back to life after Christmas. People were returning from their estates and making ready for the opening of parliament on January 28th.
Flynn liked to sit through parliamentary sessions. He was genuinely interested in good government, and when he did eventually become Earl Bramshaw, he intended to take his place in the House of Lords and participate fully. A good deal more than his father did. The current earl rarely attended parliament as it would mean him having to get out of bed early after a long night at the card tables.
Augusta greeted some mutual friends, her elegant curtsy evidence of her privileged upbringing. Flynn’s gaze went to the tall, dark-haired gentleman who stepped forward and took the hand of the duke’s daughter, then bowed deeply to her. Anger sparked in his brain as the man, a wealthy noble, led a smiling Augusta out onto the dance floor.
Flynn gulped a large swig of his drink as the couple joined in a waltz. He savored the pain as the brandy burned his throat on its way down. Jealousy coursed hot through his veins.
Augusta was, as always, light of foot and graceful as she twirled around the dance floor. But Flynn’s attention was fixed on her partner. He was fartoogood a dancer, in Flynn’s twisted opinion. He was holding hertooclose. His hand wastoolow on her waist. It was all he could do to stop himself from marching across the floor and making his displeasure known to all and sundry. With his fists.
If he made a public display of his anger, questions would surely follow. None of which Flynn was in any sort of position to be able to offer up an evenhanded answer to if asked. But if he couldn’t do something about Augusta and her liberty-taking beau, her brothers surely could.
Flynn’s gaze tracked frantically over the crowd, searching. Where the devil was Gideon or any of the other Kembal males? Didn’t they see what was happening? This scoundrel was making sweet music with their sister. They really ought to put a stop to this scandalous behavior.
He finally spotted Lord Richard Kembal in the gathering. Augusta’s brother was watching the waltz, but to Flynn’s disgust and abject horror, instead of him being outraged, he was smiling. Enjoying the sight of Augusta dancing with someone who wasn’t Viscount Cadnam.
Has the world run mad?
The truth of things settled heavily on his shoulders. Richard was watching his sister dance with a perfectly acceptable noble bachelor, an eligible male who could make an offer of marriage to Augusta and deliver on his promise.
Bloody hell. What am I going to do?
He might be struggling, but it was clear Augusta was doing as she had promised she would. She was moving on with her life. And the man she was dancing with… he still had his hands far too low on her waist. Resting his fingers on her magnificent curves, the ones which, as far as Flynn was concerned, were by rights only his to touch. To caress.
It didn’t matter that to a sane observer there was nothing out of place with this waltz. They moved well together, and if the smile on Augusta’s face was any indication, she found her gentleman partner perfectly acceptable. From where Flynn stood, it appeared that he was the only person who found it to be an utter abomination.
Augusta’s words from the night at the theatre came back to haunt him. To remind him of where the two of them now stood in her heart and mind.
Whatever we had, whatever we were, it’s over.
She had to know he was watching. Was forcing him to endure the sight of her dancing with another man her way of making her position clear? They were finished. He had lost her.
Augusta was a strong girl, and no doubt in time, she would find a way to move past her heartbreak. She would marry someone else, while he would be left with a lifetime of remorse. Forever lingering at the edge of the dance floor while she smiled and waltzed, held in the arms of another man.
I am losing her.
The thought of the one bright light in his life no longer shining for him sent a sharp spear of pain to Flynn’s chest. If she did find another to marry, he couldn’t blame her. Apart from a shared existence of misery, there was little he could currently offer Augusta.
The waltz finally, mercifully, came to an end. When Augusta left the dance floor, Flynn followed her. She stopped a passing footman, who was bearing a tray of drinks, and reached out to take a glass of champagne.
Flynn stepped forward, scooping up the glass before Augusta had the chance to claim it. A flash of annoyance crossed her face. “I didn’t think you drank champagne all that often, Lord Cadnam.”
She was back to calling him by his title. Gone was the soft ‘my love’ or ‘my heart’ he had grown so accustomed to hearing from her sweet lips. EvenFlynnwould have been better than being subjected to the impersonal, formal way Augusta now addressed him.
He handed her the champagne before dipping into a low bow. “Lady Augusta. You look divine this evening. Pale lemon suits your complexion.”
Augusta took the drink, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
Flynn moved closer. They were in public, so he was at pains to make their encounter seem as casual as possible. Old friends simply catching up at a party, nothing more.
“I watched you dancing,” he said.
He wasn’t going to even name the lord Augusta had waltzed with. The mere thought of where that rogue’s hand had been, was enough to have him fighting the urge to go and do damage to the man’s face.
“Did you? I hadn’t noted your presence. My dance teacher always taught me to focus on my footsteps while at the same time making sure I was smiling at my partner. That doesn’t leave much opportunity to see who is standing on the edge of the dance floor.” Augusta still refused to meet his eyes.
