Page 54 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“That was an insult worthy of your husband, Your Grace.”
“I will take that as a compliment.”
“I wouldn’t.”
She gave him a cheeky smile before turning to speak with Lady Cardwell, who’d finally moved on from the dowager.
It took Jack several minutes to elbow his way into the ballroom, as he ran into friends and answered inquiries after his mother. A few older ladies archly expressed surprise at her absence, even though they knew Lady John would rather shoot herself than come within a hundred feet of a Kincaid. Their veiled remarks were another warning of the dangers that lurked right there in the ballroom.
He paused by one of the Corinthian columns inside the entrance and scanned the room. There was hardly a spare inch around the perimeter of the dance floor, where a crowded swirl of colorful gowns and glittering jewels was offset by dark, masculine garb. Fortunately, he was taller than most of the men, so he was able to locate his target quickly.
Good to his word, Dominic Hunter loomed right behind Lia and Chloe, looking his most forbidding. Unfortunately, even Sir Dominic’s frightening scowl didn’t seem to be doing the trick of keeping an enthusiastic group of young and not-so-young bucks away from Lia.
While most of them, thank God, were entirely respectable, others were not. Jack recognized the members of that second group, both by name and by type. Despite their impeccable manners and polished regard, he knew their purpose as well as he knew the distressing state of his purse. They were trolling for a new conquest and they’d set their sights on Lia.
The competition to win her favor—and complete her ruin—had already begun.
Over my dead body.
Impatient to reach her, he started to push his way through the crowd. He was still several feet away and had yet to get a good look at her when the crowd suddenly parted as a new set began on the dance floor. Several of the gentlemen moved away, presumably to find their partners. Jack all but tripped over his feet, stumbling to a halt as his mind grappled with the vision before him.
He’d always realized Lia was a pretty girl. Her sweet, generous smile won her allies wherever she went. She was a veritable pattern card of the English country lass—fresh-faced, unadorned, and dressed in a way that befitted a quiet life revolving around the work and seasons of an out-of-the-way estate in Yorkshire.
The simple, fresh-faced girl was tonight replaced by a sophisticated young goddess, one garbed in a cream and gold-spangled gown that made her skin glow and clung to curves that seemed considerably more ample when displayed by a low-cut bodice. Glossy chestnut hair was piled in intricate curls on her head, with delicate strands drifting enticingly down her long, graceful neck. Her smooth, straight shoulders were mostly bare and her dainty cap sleeves gave the impression that they might slip down her arms any second, exposing all the bounties inadequately hidden by her clinging gown.
Good God.
He breathed heavily through his nostrils—rather like an enraged bull, he couldn’t help thinking. He had to fight the urge to rip the scarf off the shoulders of the matron next to him and fling it over Lia’s naked shoulders. The blasted girl had put herself on display as the next Notorious Kincaid. If she’d placed an advertisement in the papers, she couldn’t have made a better job of it.
As he started forward, a restraining hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Jack, hold up,” Charles said, tugging him behind a marble column. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t have time,” he snapped. “I’ve got to get to Lia before she does something foolish.”
“She’s fine. Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter are keeping an eye on her.”
“Have you seen the way she’s dressed?”
Charles frowned. “Of course. She looks lovely.”
“She looks like a blasted courtesan putting her wares on display.”
His friend’s eyebrows shot up at the description. “Hardly. Her dress is entirely appropriate for a young woman not in her first or even second season. Gillian helped her pick it out.”
“Has every woman in this family lost her bloody mind?” Jack asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But that’s not important right now because we’ve got a problem. Or, I should say, you’ve got a problem, and so does Lia. I’m afraid it’s a rather big one, too.”
Jack sighed. “What now?”
Charles glanced over his shoulder toward the ballroom door. Then he looked back at Jack, his features set and grim. “Your mother and sister just arrived and they’re headed this way.”
* * *
“There, Miss Kincaid, now you can catch your breath,” said Sebastian Sinclair. “That was quite the mob milling about you.” He flashed a charming smile, his teeth gleaming white in his tan face. “Fortunately for me, all your would-be swains were engaged for the next set of dances. I now have you all to myself.”
Lia politely smiled as she resisted the urge to swipe at the perspiration that trickled down the back of her neck. What she wouldn’t give for a breath of Stonefell’s crisp country air.
She glanced around the room, still surprised by how many men seemed eager to meet her. But it was obvious from a few veiled references that at least some of the gentlemen had seen her performance at the Pan. That made her an object of interest—and, she suspected, a challenge.
