Page 78 of Three Weeks with a Princess
One moment he was roaring mad at her and the next he wanted to drag her behind a potted plant, fling up her silly, frothy skirts, and have his way with her. She was turning him into a lunatic.
“Thank you,” Lia said in a crisp tone. She flung open the door and stalked into the hall. Jack was right on her heels, but a moment later she skidded to a halt. He crashed into her, and only by luck did he manage to keep them both from going down in a farcical heap on the floor.
“Oh no,” she said, staring straight ahead.
“My little dove, there you are!” cried a man. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Jack peered down the hall. “Is that—”
“I’m afraid so,” she muttered.
Viscount Stanley, obviously jug-bitten, stumbled toward them with great enthusiasm, arms open wide and a foolish grin on his face.
“He seems quite happy to see you,” Jack said.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “And he’s brought his friends along, too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jack shielded Lia as Stanley and two other men drunkenly wove their way toward them. Should he drag her back to the orangery? That would leave them with no exit and far from help. He likely could handle all three men, given their inebriated state, but that would still place Lia in danger.
“And how do you know these gentlemen?” he asked.
“I don’t, except for the viscount,” she grumbled. “When I ran into them earlier in the evening, he thought I seemed familiar. Fortunately, I managed to evade them.”
“You seem to have had quite a lot of bad luck this evening.”
She sighed and briefly rested her forehead on his back. “I am painfully aware of that.”
“Lendale, what a pleasant surprise,” Stanley said as he staggered to a halt in front of them. “Don’t usually see you kicking up larks at a Cyprians’ ball.”
“And you hopefully won’t in the future,” Jack replied in a blighting tone.
A befuddled expression crossed Stanley’s genial features. “Not a fan of light-skirts and orgies, are you? Then what the devil are you doing here in the first place?”
One of his companions, a tall, cadaverously thin fellow who looked vaguely familiar, cranked sideways to give Lia an oily smile. “His lordship’s reasons are obvious, given his pretty little companion. Seems like you’re following in your esteemed father’s footsteps, after all, Lendale, and bravo, I say. The man had a good eye for the ladies.”
He followed up that bon mot by digging an elbow into the side of the man who made up the third leg of their jug-bitten stool. His friend giggled but was too incapacitated to do much more than blow sloppy kisses in Lia’s direction.
“Lord Lendale is nothing like his father,” she huffed. “And you . . .” She jabbed her finger at the man blowing kisses. “Stop making those noises. It’s revolting.”
Jack swallowed a groan. He appreciated her show of support, but the blasted girl never seemed to know when to hold her fire.
“Golly, I was just trying to express my appreciation,” the fellow slurred, his expression more sad-eyed beagle than pink of the Ton. “No need to bite a man’s head off.”
Jack reached behind and grabbed Lia’s hand. “Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, we must be off.”
“Wait, what’s the rush?” the viscount said, blocking them. His friends shuffled with him in drunken tandem. “The evening’s young, ain’t it? Besides, we’ve spent almost an hour looking for you, my little dove. It was cruel of you to run away, just when we were starting to have fun.”
“Fun?” Jack jerked his head around to look at Lia. A fiery blush crept out from beneath her mask. “Did they touch you?”
She shook her head but kept her focus on the viscount.
“I already explained,” she said, adopting a hideously nasal tone to disguise her voice, “I didn’t have time to kick up larks with someone else. You’ll have to find some other girls to make sport with because I ain’t available.”
Obviously, they’d tried to persuade her to join their sexual adventures so persistently she’d been forced to run and hide. When he thought of all the ways tonight’s events might have damaged her, fury leached like poison through his body.
He glared at the sorry specimens of humanity blocking their way and wished he could throttle all of them. Apparently, it showed, because Stanley’s eyes went wide with dismay, while his friends shared an uneasy glance.
