WANTON (16 page)

After many agonizing minutes, he spun and went in, but he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to sneak off in the other direction, to head for the mews, saddle a horse, and gallop away.

He wondered what it would be like to ride and ride and ride and never come back.

CHAPTER TEN

“Hubbard.”

“Drake.”

Lucas glared at Chase Hubbard, and Hubbard glared back, both of them glowering as if they were mortal enemies. They were in a crowded ballroom, and through the hoard of people, he caught occasional glimpses of Miss Hubbard. She was dancing with Bryce Blair, and the sight of them together irked Lucas as nothing had in years.

If he watched much longer, he was oddly afraid he might do something drastic. Though it was bizarre, in a strange way he felt she was
his
and other men had no right to pay her any attention. He was...was...jealous. He couldn’t continue to deny it.

Gad! Jealous! How galling! How ridiculous!

He’d raced to London from Summerfield, the letter from Rose burning a hole in his pocket, but he hadn’t attempted to deliver it.

He refused to seek her out at Mrs. Middleton’s ever again, so he’d chased around the city, searching for her at various soirees, and he’d eventually found her. But from the moment he’d arrived she’d been busy flirting. Instead of talking with her, he’d bumped into her brother, but he wished he hadn’t.

He and Chase Hubbard were acquainted, but Lucas didn’t recall when they’d first met. Hubbard was an avowed gambler—as was most of Lucas’s social set—but he also had a reputation as a swindler and con artist. He would engage in any unseemly conduct or scheme. The more disturbing tales had him seducing older spinsters with a sob story of a desperate need to borrow money which—when the funds were promptly tendered—resulted in Mr. Hubbard vanishing and never again being seen by the women he’d tricked.

It almost sounded too farcical to be true, but Hubbard was handsome and dashing, and Lucas could absolutely envision him enticing an unsuspecting female to ruin herself—financially or otherwise.

“What are you doing in town?” Hubbard asked. “I heard you left.”

“Why would you have heard any news about me?”

“Amelia mentioned it. She told me you’d been bothering her, but you’d finally stopped.”

“I haven’t been
bothering
your sister. I’m insulted that she’d claim I had.”

“You haven’t been over at Mrs. Middleton’s house? You haven’t been scolding Amelia and telling her how to act?”

Lucas bristled. “I merely tried to warn her about her recent and unsavory choice of companions.”

“Is that your excuse?” Hubbard smirked.

“Your chum, Bryce Blair, is the worst of all. He advises me that you were the one who introduced them.”

“He’s a great friend of mine, and they get on famously. Why wouldn’t I have introduced them?”

“Are you mad?” Lucas sputtered. “He might do anything to her, and she’s such a ninny that she’d be in over her head before she realized the danger he posed.”

“The situation is between her and myself—and Mr. Blair. It’s not any of your business.”

“I was betrothed to her.”

“Yes, but you weren’t interested.”

“Somebody should worry about her. It doesn’t seem to be you.”

“Amelia will be all right. She and I have always made our own way, and I’ve watched out for her as best I could.”

“Well, if I get a vote in this seedy scenario, I say you’re failing miserably.”

“You don’t get a vote. She’s my sister, she’s fine, and I can safely and categorically affirm that—whatever I pick for her—it will be a better ending than the one she would have had with you.”

“I’m a Drake—of the Sidwell Drakes,” Lucas huffed. “Your sister is lucky her name was ever linked to mine.”

“If you’d have offered me a thousand pounds for her, I wouldn’t have let her marry Lord Sidwell’s son.”

“What’s your bloody ancestry that makes you feel so high and mighty?”

“My father was a French count.”

“Seriously?” Lucas laughed, sure it was a false boast.

“Yes.”

“And your mother?”

“A scandalous actress and home wrecker who lured him away from his wife.”

“You announce it as if you’re proud of their behavior.”

“Not proud.” Hubbard shrugged. “Just stating the facts.”

“With facts like that as your history, you shouldn’t protest the Drakes. We may have a new title, but at least it’s a title. And
my
parents were married.”

“Bully for you.”

“If you’re so protective of your sister, how could she wind up engaged to me and—apparently—you didn’t even know?”

“I know now.” Miss Hubbard and Mr. Blair whirled by, and Mr. Hubbard stared at them, then grinned at Lucas. “I have plans for her, Mr. Drake.”

“Yes, Blair told me some of them. You’re despicable. So is he.”

“You can think what you like, but don’t be sniffing after her. I won’t have you interfering and chasing away suitors.”

“You’re lining up other betrotheds, are you?”

“Maybe a husband,” Hubbard enigmatically said. “Or maybe a different arrangement.”

“You’d sell her as a paramour?”

Suddenly, Lucas’s pulse was racing. What sort of brother would so egregiously manipulate his sister? What sort of brother would brag about it? Lucas yearned to beat the hell out of Hubbard, but couldn’t imagine making a scene, and he’d never resort to fisticuffs over a woman. He’d learned that hard lesson when he’d dueled at age fifteen.

Hubbard shrugged again. “There are worse fates that could befall Amelia than to become a rich man’s mistress.”

“Name one.”

“She could wed you. In my book, that’s as low as a female could possibly stoop.”

“As if I’d have her,” Lucas scoffed. “I was very clear from the start.”

“Yes, you were, so some other bloke will get her. You can spend the rest of your life wondering what you missed when you were too stupid to snatch her up yourself.”

Hubbard sauntered away, the crowd swallowing him before Lucas could hurl a pithy retort. He’d wanted to have the last word, had wanted to put Hubbard in his place, but the entire conversation had been a waste of breath.

No one was concerned about Amelia Hubbard’s welfare. Not her. Not her brother. Not Lucas’s father. Not Mrs. Middleton. Lucas was the sole person who cared, and he’d rallied Rose to his cause, but they were the only two.

He had to abandon his peculiar and baffling trepidation. When Miss Hubbard wasn’t worried, when her own brother was eager to endanger her, why should Lucas expend any energy trying to thwart the debacle?

The set ended and the musicians announced the supper break. People proceeded into the other room to the buffet tables. Miss Hubbard and Mr. Blair strolled off together arm in arm, and Lucas was horrified to note that he was on the verge of traipsing after them, of dragging Miss Hubbard away from Blair and forcing her to dine with Lucas instead.

But he didn’t want to dine with her, didn’t want to quarrel with Blair. He wanted...
what?
He didn’t know and was disgusted to find himself feeling morbidly alone and regretful in a manner he never was.

He spotted Nanette flirting with a group of men. She waved and gestured to the door, inviting him to depart with her, to head off to other amusements. Instantly, he realized that was precisely what he needed to improve his odd temper.

He walked to the foyer, and she quickly followed.

* * * *

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much. He merely glowered and fumed.”

Amelia smiled at her brother. They were at Barbara’s house, having a final and very late brandy in the rear parlor. Amelia had danced for hours, until her feet were sore and her legs shaky from all the exertion.

“I thought he might ask me to dance,” she said.

“He wouldn’t have. He didn’t appear to be in a festive mood.” Chase considered for a moment, then added, “Actually I’ve never seen Lucas Drake dance.”

“He’s very musically inclined. I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

“Drake is musically inclined?”

“He’s an accomplished keyboardist. It’s shocking, I know.”

“I didn’t think he was accomplished at anything except drinking and gambling.”

“You two have so much in common,” she teased. “I can’t believe you’re not friends.”

“He’s too vain and obnoxious.”

“He certainly can be—which is why I suspect you’d get on well.”

“I’ll admit to vanity, but not obnoxiousness. I’m too charming to ever be insufferable.”

She agreed.

Chase had always been fun loving and mischievous, with kindly inclinations and a romantic heart. She felt badly for him that there was no money or other inheritance from their father. Their father’s heir, a French half brother they’d never met, had died from a sudden illness and their father’s estate had passed to a distant cousin.

How sad that not a tiny bit of it could have come to Amelia or Chase. It would have made their lives so much easier.

She couldn’t complain though. For how completely her French relatives had cast her away, her tuition had always been paid. She’d been safe and secure at Miss Peabody’s school, just as Chase had been safe at the boys’ school where he’d boarded. Her main regret was that they’d been separated so young, that they’d rarely had occasion to cross paths as they were growing up.

And now, she was twenty-five, and he was nearing thirty. They’d missed so much, but luckily, in spite of their years apart, they’d remained affectionately close.

Chase’s life was a mystery to her though. She had no idea how he supported himself, how he spent his days. His nights were spent in the same pursuits as Barbara, as Mr. Blair, as Mr. Drake, and Amelia didn’t know how he could bear such sloth and indolence.

While, initially, the soirees and suppers had been an interesting experience, she was already weary of the spectacle, of the leisure time where nothing was ever accomplished. Her teaching position had spoiled her. The wealthy members of the
ton
thrived on doing as little as possible, but Amelia liked to be busy and useful.

Contented and pleasantly tired, she relaxed against the sofa cushion.

Barbara and Mr. Blair had flitted off to another party, and Chase was leaving shortly to join them at a gambling club. Barbara wouldn’t be back until the sun was up, and Amelia couldn’t figure out how Barbara maintained such a grueling schedule. Amelia had always kept country hours, getting to bed by nine, rising at dawn to corral and manage a school full of girls.

“Where do you suppose Mr. Drake was while he was away?” she inquired.

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

“I was amazed to see him at the ball. With how he vanished, I was beginning to suspect he was gone for good.”

Two weeks earlier, Mr. Drake had misbehaved with Amelia, then he’d threatened to remove her to Sidwell, which Amelia would never allow unless it was for their wedding. He’d come by the next morning, as he’d sworn he would, and she and Barbara had hidden upstairs, having the servants lie and claim they’d fled to avoid him.

Amelia had spied on him, observing as he’d fumed in the driveway, as he’d ridden away in a snit. Then...he hadn’t returned. After a few nights of searching and discreet inquiries, it became clear that he’d left town. No one knew where he was, why he was away, or when he’d be back.

Amelia had lost faith then. Due to Barbara’s constant urging, Amelia had permitted herself to grow desperate over the prospect of owning the estate in Surrey that Lord Sidwell had promised.

She’d convinced herself she would never fall in love with Mr. Drake. That way, when he deserted her in the country later on—as she was certain he would—she wouldn’t be hurt or disappointed. But she
wanted
that property.

She would be safe there, would have a place where Chase could stay if he needed to. For the rest of their lives, she’d have a haven for both of them, but she could only obtain it by marrying the dissolute wretch, Lucas Drake.

At first, Chase had been opposed to the match but, gradually, he’d changed his mind too. For two siblings who’d never had a home of their own, the lure of the estate was too dear to abandon without a fight.

“We should assume he’s smitten with you,” her brother said.

“Really?” She grinned. “What makes you think so?”

“He was watching you like a hawk. He couldn’t look away.”

“I noticed him staring when I whirled past.”

“He never stopped. Not once.”

Sarcastically, she mused, “Maybe he returned to London because he couldn’t bear to be away from me.”

As she voiced the ludicrous comment, she and her brother laughed and laughed.

“I can’t guess what’s driving him,” Chase said. “He was very worried about you, and he scolded me about Bryce and how I was endangering you.”

“It’s so odd to have him fretting. He’s so self-involved; he’s never concerned about anyone but himself.”

“Well, he’s definitely concerned about you. If he’s not smitten, then I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Just because he’s mildly infatuated doesn’t mean he’s ready to wed me.”

“We’ll keep after him. We’ll get him ready.”

“Here’s hoping.”

They clinked their glasses in a toast, their identical green eyes sparkling with merriment. Chase was tall, dark-haired, and handsome, and—by all accounts—resembled their deceased father in every way. Amelia didn’t remember their parents, but Chase claimed Amelia looked like their mother, and she liked to think so. It gave her peace of mind.

“Where did he go when the buffet opened?” she asked. “He seemed so annoyed. I was afraid he’d bluster into the dining room and demand to eat with me.”

“Oh, he didn’t stay. He went off with friends.” Chase glanced away, his cheeks flushing.

“Who was it?”

“Ah...no one you’d know.”

“You can tell me.”

He hemmed and hawed, then admitted, “It was Mrs. Nipton, Amelia.”

“I see.”

She was terribly upset by the news, which was ridiculous. If she truly intended to forge ahead with Mr. Drake, she had to remain detached and never form a personal connection to him. Otherwise, he would inflict constant heartbreak and betrayal.