Page 3 of His Scandal
Edmund inclined his head toward the merry dancers. “Lady Blythe Prescott.”
The younger daughter of the Marquess of Kent. When the crowd parted he saw her laughing face, her shining hair the color of the finest chocolate from the New World. Though he’d never conversed with her, he had often noticed her loveliness and her musical laugh.
He was almost…disappointed.
Oh, she was pretty, but the flirtatious glances she bestowed on every dance partner suggested a woman easily kissed.
Edmund laughed. “Do not be so disgruntled, my friend.”
“She will be no challenge. Is there something you are not divulging?” Alex asked, his interest returning as Edmund smirked.
And then he saw another woman, an older, paler imitation of Blythe, approaching the girl while wearing a censorious frown. Blythe gaveher partner an apologetic look, slid her arm into the other woman’s, and walked away.
“And who is that?” Alex demanded.
Edmund grinned. “That was Lady Emmeline Prescott, Blythe’s sister.”
“Let me guess—a spinster,” Alex said with a groan.
Edmund’s smile showed almost every tooth in his head. “I am certainly going to relish taking your money.”
“You haven’t won yet, my good man. There is not a woman born I can’t cajole. It will be easy to elude one sister in pursuit of the other.”
Edmund gave him a formal bow. “Then I wish you luck, sir—you’ll need it. Shall we begin?” He took himself off without a backward glance.
Alex’s gaze returned to the two sisters, now standing together near the banqueting table. Blythe’s smile was lively as she listened to her sister’s obviously serious words. Emmeline had none of Blythe’s vivaciousness, and her dark hair had a reddish tinge to it. Perhaps if she smiled occasionally, she would have ensnared a man by now.
Yet she was the daughter of a marquess—surely men must be lining up at her door, if only for a share of her wealth. So why had she never married?
Hell, he didn’t have to care about the sister; he only had to outwit her. And for that to succeed, hehad to win the younger sister’s cooperation.
So he began to follow Blythe about the room, sending longing glances her way, ready for the moment their eyes would meet.
It came as she was talking to Emmeline, whose back was to Alex. Over Emmeline’s shoulder, Blythe glanced up and saw him there, not ten paces away, watching her. He held her gaze and gave her a slow smile tinged with a slight wickedness. It was something he was naturally good at.
Blythe smiled back, and her cheeks pinkened delightfully. She returned her attention to her sister, but she eventually glanced at him again. He inclined his head, and this time her face reddened. He beckoned with one hand—a miscalculation, for her smile faded, and she looked away.
Very well, he had tried the easy method, and was relieved that Blythe would be more challenging. The moment Emmeline left her side, Alex was there, bowing before Blythe. That lovely blush returned to her face.
“Lady Blythe,” he murmured, reaching for her fingers and kissing them. When he didn’t immediately let go, she disengaged her hand from his.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, a reluctant-looking smile on her face. “Have we met?”
“No, my lady, but how can any man not know your name? I am Sir Alexander Thornton, and I would gladly pay a king’s ransom to dance with you.”
“An exchange of coin is not necessary, Sir Alexander,” she said, followed by a spirited laugh. “Dancing is such a joy that I’ll gladly indulge you for free.”
And then he whirled her out into the crowd.
Lady Emmeline Prescott had once again misplaced her sister. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration, but even in childhood that had never gotten her her way, especially after her mother had died. Emmeline had learned at an early age that her father expected her to rely on herself, but watching over Blythe tested her very intellect and patience.
Emmeline sighed. Her sister was a good girl, just high-spirited, and seemingly unaware that her dowry and her beauty made her a worthy prize to men.
Surprisingly, a dowry alone did not seem to matter, since Emmeline, a wealthy heiress in her own right, seldom had male callers.
But she preferred not to dwell on what could never be. She had Blythe’s happiness and romantic success to worry about. Emmeline was determined that her sister would have the husband she herself never would. She would be a part of Blythe’s family, a dear aunt to Blythe’s children, and know the peace of seeing her sister happy.
If only she could keep Blythe from mischief, and help her to settle on the perfect man.
