Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(57)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Maximus began. “I know he’s Mandeville’s brother—”

She clutched his arm with shaking fingers. “You cannot arrest Griffin. You simply cannot.”

Maximus’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Griffin?”

This was it. She’d betrayed herself. She was going to lose Maximus, lose her family and friends.

Carefully, Hero took her hands from her brother’s sleeve and clasped them primly in front of herself. She must remember that they stood in a crowded ballroom.

“For me, Maximus,” she whispered, her lips barely moving. “Promise me you won’t touch him.”

Around them the crowd talked and laughed and even shouted, but Maximus was as still as a graven image and just as silent.

Hero closed her eyes and prayed.

Finally he spoke. “Whatever Reading is to you, it must stop immediately.”

Her eyes flew open. His face was pale and set, his lips bloodless. She opened her mouth to speak.

His hand rose, sharp and commanding, between them. “Wait. I will not move against him for your sake, but in return you will promise me that you will quit him. Hero, he distills gin.” The word was spat from his lips.

She bowed her head, her heart beating fast in relief.

“Your word, sister.”

She nodded mutely.

Maximus took a deep breath, and she realized suddenly that his entire body was tense and trembling, like a racehorse held back from the starting gate.

“We will not speak of this again,” he murmured, and then he took her arm.

They walked sedately to Mandeville’s side as Hero fought to catch her breath.

Mandeville’s first words didn’t help.

“Wakefield, my dear.” The marquess bowed to them both, then frowned. “I shall have to take my brother to task, my lady. He seems to have abandoned you to your own devices.”

“It’s of no matter,” she replied. “I’m sure there was someone he wanted to talk to.”

The gentlemen made noises of vague assent, and then Maximus drew Mandeville into a discussion of a bill he wanted passed in parliament.

Hero listened long enough to make sure the bill had nothing to do with gin, and then she fixed a pleasant, interested expression on her face and let her mind wander. She opened her fan and behind its painted scene scanned the ballroom. Griffin wore blue and gold tonight, and for a moment she thought she saw his broad shoulders leading a lady in the minuet. Then the man turned and she saw it wasn’t him. She had to warn him somehow, but she must not be seen in his company. Perhaps she could send word to his house tomorrow.

Maximus bowed and made some parting comment, but Hero was hardly aware, so caught up was she in searching for Griffin.

“I must beg your pardon for both my brother and I,” Mandeville said.

“Hmm?” She glanced up to find him regarding her seriously.

“I am just as much at fault for neglecting you as my brother,” Mandeville said. “I fear I have not played the attentive fiancé very well these last several days.”

“Oh, my lord,” she said with a pang. “I am perfectly happy with your attention.”

He frowned. “You’re kind as you always are, my lady, but I’ve been remiss.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “I admire the duke very much. He is, I think, one of the great leaders of our nation. It may seem that I forget at times that it is you I have pledged to wed, not he.”

She felt her lips tremble on a smile at the thought of Mandeville and her brother at an altar wedding each other, but she suppressed it. She knew it would hurt Mandeville’s feelings if she found his words amusing. He meant them from his heart.

She laid her palm on his sleeve. “He admires you as well, my lord, and I assure you, I am not jealous of the time you spend with my brother. I know you both have grave matters of the nation to decide. Indeed, I am glad that our government is in such capable hands.”

Mandeville gave her one of his rare, unpracticed smiles, his face becoming boyishly handsome, and she was reminded why she’d consented to become this man’s wife in the first place.

He bowed. “Come, my dear. Let us discover what awaits us in the dining room.”

And she accompanied him, her heart more confused than ever.

GRIFFIN HAD HAD perhaps more than his fair share of intimate encounters at balls and other social events. Ladies who were excited by the hazards and the possibility of being discovered. For others it was simply easier to meet at a ball than to risk the danger of him climbing in her window at night.

Such sophisticated seductions were urgent at the time but easily forgotten afterward. The various fumblings in anonymous dark rooms became, after a parade of similar encounters, merely ordinary. Once Griffin stepped out of whatever dark room he’d chosen for the evening, he rarely thought about the lady involved.

But as she’d proven already on numerous occasions, Hero was different.

The moment he stepped back in the ballroom, his entire attention was on her. Was she having second thoughts? Perhaps realizing this moment how very sordid a rendezvous in the midst of a crowded social event was? Damn it, he should never have followed her down that hall. Hero wasn’t like the cynical matrons he usually seduced. She was idealistic, proud, sure of her own infallibility. And he had been the one to prove how very human she was.

The thought did not shine a flattering light on him. Worse, this maidenish nervousness was enough to make a rake think hard about reform. He snorted, startling a plump matron nearby. Perhaps it was time to settle down and spend his evenings with a warm cup of milk by the fire.

His musings were still dark when he caught sight of Megs, lovely in a yellow frock with black and red embroidery, but looking a bit like a wilted buttercup.

“Oh, Griffin,” she sighed when she saw him.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, Megs.”

She plucked limply at her skirts. “Do you think I’m the sort of lady a gentleman would like to kiss?”

“Not if I’m about, I hope,” Griffin growled.

She rolled her eyes. “I cannot remain a virgin forever, Griffin. I’d hope to someday have children without it being a divine miracle. That is”—her brief show of spirit suddenly flew away again—“if any man ever shows enough passion to take me to wife.”

Griffin straightened, his eyes narrowing. “What has that ass Bollinger done?”

“It’s rather more what he hasn’t done,” Megs moaned. “He’s refused to take me into the garden.”