Page 88 of The Counterfeit Scoundrel
“When did you see him?” Phillip asked.
“What do you know of proper kissing?” Rob demanded.
“I saw him at a ball during my coming out Season, before he was so embroiled in scandal. As for proper kissing, I read romantic novels.” She looked at her dance card. “When this waltz ends, I must take tothe floor.” Reaching out, she squeezed Daisy’s hand. “Don’t let any of these people make you feel less. You are a heroine, and that far outweighs being a tart.”
Daisy laughed. “I’m not sure most of thetonwould agree with you.”
“It was a shock to learn Uncle Lionel is still alive,” Rob said. “Weren’t you at all afraid when he took you captive?”
“I knew he wouldn’t harm me.”
“Do you think he’ll hang?” Phillip asked.
“Your father doesn’t think so, but I suspect he’ll spend considerable time in prison.”
“As well he should.”
“To be honest, I’m surprised anyone showed up here tonight,” Jack said. “What with the family name being slung through the mud.”
Another reason Daisy had felt it was important to make an appearance. The family had stood by her all these years. Now it was time to stand by them.
“Oh, my God,” Adelia suddenly blurted, her eyes going wide. “It’s him.”
“Who?” Daisy asked, as she turned to look in the direction her cousin was staring, but she knew before she saw him because the room suddenly felt charged with electricity.
Bishop.
In his evening attire. So remarkably handsome. With a touch of arrogance, as though daring anyone to object to his presence. Guests weren’t being announced, but at some point, he had descended the stairs or come in through the doors that led to the refreshment room. He was striding along the outskirts of the dance floor, dipping his head in acknowledgment here or there, butreceiving no corresponding salutations in return. Only cuts.
He’d tried to tell her that he’d not be welcomed, but she’d refused to listen or acknowledge it, because she’d wanted him here, had wanted her damned waltz.
Then he was standing before her, with her cousins flanking her, two on each side. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see some of the dancing couples straining their necks to get a better look at what was going on in this little corner of the ballroom. At any moment, someone was going to crash into someone else, but she didn’t care.
“Blackwood,” Rob said sternly. “I think you’re terribly obtuse, old chap, if you think my cousin wants anything at all to do with you. On your way now.”
A corner of Bishop’s mouth curled up, but he never took his eyes from her. “She doesn’t like to be rescued, my lord. And she certainly doesn’t need rescuing from me.”
Oh, he was so wrong there. She’d missed him far too much, had contemplated going to him. Being a secret. For it was better than being without him. But she had her pride. And as she’d told him, she understood her worth. She deserved more than being hidden away.
He shifted his gaze to Rob. “Don’t you have young ladies to charm?”
“I’m not going to leave you alone with Marguerite so you can try to woo her.”
Bishop’s attention came back to her. “I’ve never wooed a woman in my life. Wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Her heart did a strange sort of skip and jump. What was he confessing here?
“Then how the devil is it that you have all these affairs with married ladies?” Rob asked, his voice rife with disbelief as well as irritation, certain he was being mocked.
“I don’t,” Bishop said simply.
“But you swore you did. In the courts. Your admittance secured some wives a divorce.”
“Yes, that could prove to be a bit of a bother should the truth come out and create a tempest, but then I have a very good solicitor, who assures me much can be forgiven when accompanied by true remorse.”
She didn’t think he was answering Rob at all but was speaking only to her. Words that carried weight, a message only she could truly hear and comprehend. A message that sent hope perilously spiraling through her.
He held out his hand. “Miss Townsend, will you honor me with a dance?”
