Page 54 of My Hellion, My Heart
“For Lady Irina’s favors,” Henry said. “A dance, a stroll, a kiss, a ride…” He trailed off and paused, those glittering eyes delving into hers, and Irina jutted her chin. She couldn’t control her violent flush at the silent confrontation. The innuendo on the wordridewas subtle but clear. Everyone else at the table missed the inflection, though, except Max. He had gone rigid in the seat beside her.
“Well, this conversation has quickly gone to hell,” Lord Northridge commented in the widening silence and drained his wineglass. This time, though, no one laughed.
“This is atrocious, an absolute travesty,” Lana said with an affronted expression, her gaze sliding to Irina. “She is not some ridiculous prize.”
“The Prize of London, to be exact,” Max drawled in a tone that made Irina again want to kick him.
“Unacceptable.” Lady Bradburne scowled and nodded her agreement with her sister-in-law. “And it is truly disgusting the way you gentlemen wager every little thing.”
“Not all gentlemen, dear,” the duke said gently.
“It’s harmless, I expect,” Irina said with a laugh, keeping her voice light to dissipate the burgeoning tension and the look of murderous disgust on Lana’s face. “I don’t mind if the gentlemen at the club have a bit of fun. Being known as the Prize of London is far better than being known as an Ice Princess, I suppose. It will pass in time once some other fascination takes their interest.”
“You must put a stop to this, Archer,” Lady Bradburne said to her husband.
“I wish I could, my love, but the wager books are untouchable.”
Irina cleared her throat. “It truly does not bother me, Your Grace,” she said to the duchess, smiling brightly, and patting Max’s arm beside her. “And I have Lord Remi to protect me from any overeager suitors.”
Henry snorted, his eyes like ice chips. “It is not some unknown and overeager suitor that worries me.”
“Do you have something to say, Langlevit?” Max asked with an indolent grin.
His response was deadly low. “Should I?”
Irina’s entire body went taut. She was sure Max was not aware how much danger of bodily harm he was in. Even she could sense the precarious shift in the air as Henry tensed across the table, his large body flexing like a jungle cat about to pounce on its prey. But Max only waved an idle arm, as if intent on provoking the beast. “It may come as a surprise to you, but Princess Irina does not do anything she doesn’t want to do,” he replied, unfazed, his expression cool. “And do not forget, Langlevit, you are no longer her guardian.”
“Max,” Irina hissed in warning, even as Henry’s back went straight in his chair. The younger man was veering into dangerous territory by suggesting her honor had been compromised in any way, especially with her sister, her husband, and the powerful Duke and Duchess of Bradburne looking on with unsmiling interest. “Please, that is enough.”
Max took her hand from her lap, and raising it to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “Apologies, Your Highness,” he murmured. “I truly did not mean to cause offense or discomfort.”
Irina did not fall for the act one bit. He did not mean his apology at all if the unrepentant look in his eyes was any signal, and he was only kissing her bloody hand to inflame the earl. Maxneverapologized, not even when he was in the wrong. Irina spared Henry a glance and hurriedly retracted her arm. A lethal glint shone in his eyes, as if Henry also suspected the apology was false. Irina was certain he was on the verge of leaping across the table to throttle her unsuspecting friend with his bare hands. She had to do something, and quickly.
Swallowing hard, she stood, a nearby footman rushing forward to hold her chair back. Four more chairs shifted backward as the men stood to their feet, and she smiled despite her grimly throbbing heart. “Gentlemen, please, let’s not ruin what has thus far been a lovely evening. I’m sure a game of billiards would be in order, and a glass of sherry for us ladies.”
Her sister also rose, her wan face catching Irina’s eye. “I’m afraid I must make my regrets,” Lana said, quick to shoot a reassuring smile to those around her. “I do admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She glanced at Irina. “Lord Northridge will see me home if you wish to stay. And Godfrey can return for you once he has seen us back to Stanton Park.”
“No,” Irina said. “I should accompany you.”
“It’s not necessary. I assure you that I’m only tired. I am a dreadful bore, I know. You should stay and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Irina said nothing, but if things continued on the path they’d been on with Max and the earl, the evening was sure to keep heading south. But she nodded and made certain Lana was safely ensconced in the carriage before going back inside. Irina had a sinking feeling that Lana would not forget about the wagers, which meant for a lecture or worse on the morrow. North hadn’t been far off when he’d said that the better choice was to run when Lana was angry. Her temper could be formidable when provoked.
To Irina’s surprise, when she returned, the drawing room and the salon were both empty. “Where has everyone gone?” she asked Heed, the Duke of Bradburne’s longtime butler.
“Her Grace offers her sincerest apologies, but she has been summoned to the nursery,” he said.
“Oh, is everything well?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Master Brandon is recovering from a cough,” Heed explained. Irina recalled hearing of Lady Bradburne’s lung ailments when she was a child, and she hoped it was nothing of the same. “Lord Langlevit and Lord Remi are in the billiards room,” Heed said.
The two of them alone in a room? That was not wise.
“I suppose I should find Max and take our leave, as well,” Irina murmured half to herself. She did not want to impose upon their hosts if they had a sick child on hand, and it wouldn’t be long before Godfrey returned. “Where is the billiards room?”
“This way, Your Highness.”
Irina followed Heed in silence, her feet making no sound on the thick carpets. The doors to the billiards room were open, but she heard no voices. Thanking Heed, she wandered in. The room was empty, thankfully not occupied by two men engaged in fisticuffs. She almost sighed with relief.
