Page 10 of Lady Constantine & the Sins of Lord Kilgore
Callum winked. “I lost my humanity ages ago, Val. This seduction is one of necessity.” If he told himself that long enough, maybe the self-loathing that rose in his throat to choke him every time he thought about what he was about to do would subside.
“You pretend you have no conscience because it makes things easier for you, but cracks like you dueling your cousin at Cambridge to protect the honor of a woman who was a friend have shown you have had a noble side for years, and if the world wasn’t filled with such blind idiots…” Valentine shrugged. “Well, it is, nevertheless, you and I both know you’re plagued by a good heart and a hefty dose of guilt.”
Callum stopped at the edge of the ballroom and stared into the sea of silk and satin, lace and linen, simpering lords and seeking ladies, and he very nearly turned and left. These people would descend like vultures to rip at any shreds of dignity Lady Constantine possessed, and he was the devil who was delivering her carcass. “I do not believe I can do this.”
“Thank bloody God,” Valentine muttered. “Let’s leave, go to the club, and put our heads together to figure out how we can get your father’s land back.”
The music started as Callum stood there thinking about what Valentine said, and dancers made their way to the ballroom floor. “No, I have to do this,” he said finally.
“You onlythinkyou have to. There is always a choice, Kilgore.”
“Not in this case. Besides, Talbot says this woman is loathsome,” Callum added, ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him Talbot was not to be trusted. Callum forced himself forward to descend into the hot throng with Valentine at his side.
Callum slowed occasionally to return a nod of someone saying hello, but Valentine walked in stony silence with a scowl on his face.
“I appreciate you coming with me, but you didn’t have to,” Callum said as they continued on their way.
“I did. I hoped to talk you out of it, but once again, you’ve stubbornly set yourself on a bad course.”
“It’s not like that,” Callum replied. “I cannot fail my father again.”
“What if this lady is not loathsome, Kilgore? What then?”
Callum didn’t even want to consider it. That would be most inconvenient. “Let’s hope she’s a nasty, callous woman, but attractive since I’m to seduce her.” He flashed a smile, but it faltered under the reality of what he was about to do.
Valentine frowned at him. “This is a low to which I never thought I’d see you sink to.”
“Then don’t look,” Callum snapped. Being taller than most men, he easily scanned over the heads of the guests, searching for Talbot, and after several sweeps of the ballroom, he found him standing in a group by the orchestra. “I’ve located Talbot,” he said to Valentine. “Shall we?”
When Valentine didn’t answer, Callum glanced at him, but his friend was looking toward the dancers, misery etched on his face. Callum frowned, followed the direction of Valentine’s stare, and spotted Lady Ellen Abernathy dancing and laughing with some peacock dressed in a ridiculously frilly shirt and cravat. In this moment, he was glad he had never cared about finding one woman to hold above all others. Valentine had found one, and as far as Callum could tell, it had made his friend nothing but miserable. “Are you coming with me or are you going to stand here staring at Lady Abernathy?” Callum had known Ellen since she was a girl of eight. They’d made mud pies together, he’d pulled her hair, and she’d given Callum his first kiss—purely instructional. She was two years older than Callum and Valentine, and a widow who’d sworn off marriage. That was the heart of her and Valentine’s problem. He wanted her. She wanted him. But how they wanted each other ended there. She desired an affair. He desired her as his wife.
“I’m going to stand here staring all night,” Valentine replied, confirming what Callum had already known would be the answer.
Callum laughed and clapped his friend on the arm. “You should just forget her.”
“You’ll see how easy that is someday when you meet the woman you want,” Valentine said as Callum turned to leave. And then at Callum’s back came, “You’re better than what you are about to do.”
Callum wasn’t so certain whether he was better than what he was about to do or not, considering more bad decisions on his part had led him to this problem, so he simply raised his hand in a parting wave and wound his way through clouds of heavy perfume and plunging necklines, keeping his gaze straight ahead and avoiding the inviting looks shot his way.
He approached Talbot and the group of three men and women standing in a circle, and one voice rose above the rest, smooth, lightly melodical, and commanding. The closer he came to the group, the clearer the woman’s words became, as did the faces of the people around her. Lady Thatcher, the adulteress, looked bored. Lady Cavendish, who enjoyed publicly flaying people she considered her lesser, wore her usual condescending expression. Lord Addelwood, a man who abused his wife, appeared impatient. The lecher Lord Bingsly seemed far more interested in the speaker’s breasts than what was coming out of her mouth. And Lord Mulberry, a conceited ass if there ever was one, just looked irritated. After only a month back among theton, Callum already knew all the dirty little secrets they hid because he was dirty himself.
Then there was the look on Talbot’s face—an odd combination of scorn and lust. His attention flicked momentarily to Callum, and his eyes lit in cruel anticipation. He cut his gaze to the speaker and gave an almost imperceptible nod toward Callum. Ah, so that was Lady Constantine, Callum’s target.
She had her back to him, but the passion in her voice was clear. “You’re mistaken, Lord Addelwood. The moon is not smooth.” Though she had corrected him, she’d done so in a kind and gentle voice.
“How would you know?” Lord Addelwood snapped. “You’re a woman.”
“Does that make me without intelligence in your eyes?” Her tone held quiet censure.
“Ah!” Lady Cavendish exclaimed, her attention falling on Callum as he reached them. “Here is someone much more interesting than any of you—and definitely more interesting than exceedingly boring talk of the moon!”
“I find the moon fascinating,” Callum smoothly interjected, which was true, though he knew nothing about it. It was one of those things he’d meant to get around to studying but had yet to do so.
Lady Cavendish slipped her arm into his and had her fingers clinging to his bicep before he could discreetly pull away. “Now, here,” she exclaimed, “is my favorite marquess! And so very mysterious, too!” She waved a hand around the group. “You know everyone, darling.”
He stiffened at the endearment. The woman had made it plain, as in she’d whispered it in his ear multiple times, that she wished to meet him between the sheets. It most definitely would have been something he would have done before his return to London and his father’s death, but now he simply was not interested in slaking his baser needs on a woman with such a spiteful character.
“I don’t believe I do,” he replied, smiling at those he did know, though he didn’t like a single one of the lot of them. Then he turned his attention to Lady Constantine.
