Page 4 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘You?’

‘Why not?’

For some reason, the thought of his flirtatious friend dancing with Nora did not sit well with him. Ladies had always been drawn to Adler, and he disliked the idea of him holding Nora in his arms as they waltzed. ‘I would think the pretty, fair-haired Miss Joan is more your type,’ Ralston said.

Adler eyed him with interest. ‘I see. While I dance with the blonde maybe you should pursue Miss Nora instead.’

‘Unlikely. You know what I’m looking for.’ Ralston’s voice sounded gruff to his own ears.

‘Ah, yes. A mundane political match.’

‘An advantageous match,’ Ralston corrected. And the fiery auburn-haired Nora Magarian was not that lady. Half English and half Middle Eastern, many in the beau monde would be prejudiced against her mixed blood. Her background did not disturb him as much as her outspoken nature. She may be beautiful, but he knew better than to fall into that trap. She was the opposite of what he sought.

Adler’s normally amused expression turned serious. ‘I’m worried for you, my friend. I fear your past has tainted your future.’

Ralston scoffed. ‘You mean matters of the heart? You’re wrong. I was young and stupid when it came to my betrothal to Margaret all those years ago. My heart is now safe.’

Margaret had been his country neighbour, and they’d grown up together. As eighteen-year-olds, their friendship had blossomed into romance, and they’d often sneak away to be together. When she told him she was pregnant, he hadn’t been afraid but happy. With their families’ approval, he’d proposed and they were to marry. But he was too young to notice her wandering eye and when he’d caught her in bed with a lover, she’d confessed the baby wasn’t his and called off the wedding. Devastated, he swore never to risk such heartache again.

‘Are you certain?’

Ralston nodded. ‘Why would you ask?’ Adler studied him, then seemed to shift his attention to something over Ralston’s shoulder. ‘It’s just as well. Because Miss Magarian is talking to that scoundrel, Sir Simon.’

Ralston turned to spot the pair by a set of French doors. His gaze narrowed. Adler was right. Nora was engaged with the blackguard, her head tilted up, her gaze focused on him as if in rapt attention. From the brief conversations he’d had with Sir Simon, he concluded the man had limited intelligence.

Why the hell was she polite to that coxcomb, and rude to himself?

And why did he care?

‘You look angry enough to charge over there and yank the lady away,’ Adler said.

‘Don’t be stupid. I just find it intriguing why any female with half a brain would find Sir Simon interesting.’

‘I second your opinion. The man is a pretentious fop. It just goes to show that there is no predicting a lady’s mind.’

Especially hers.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to ask the blonde, Miss Joan, to dance.’ Adler placed his glass on a passing servant’s empty tray and was off.

Ralston found it difficult to tear his gaze away from Nora. He had his own goals, dammit. Still, her unforgettable, infuriating words came back to him in a rush.

‘That must be exhausting. And boring… To always be told you’re right, even when you know you are not.’

Indeed.

A part of him wanted to engage with the lady once more. Verbally spar with her. See how far he could go to cause her eyes to flash green fire and her pretty face to flush. She was a challenge, and he hadn’t been challenged by a woman in a long, long time.

He shoved his curiosity and any strange fascination aside. Engaging with her was not in his best interest. He did not want a stimulating marriage. As far as he was concerned, politics was where he found his excitement.

If Nora Magarian wanted to engage with a man of Sir Simon’s ilk, then that was the lady’s decision. Then why on earth did he want to interfere?

‘I’m flattered you sought me out, Miss Nora. I would never forgot such a lovely face,’ Sir Simon said.

‘You flatter me, Sir Simon,’ Nora artfully fanned herself and met his gaze. By the time she’d found Sir Simon by the open French doors, thankfully, the widow, Lady Melrose, had departed.

‘Just Simon. Let there be no formalities between us, sweet Nora.’ His gaze raked her face then promptly dropped to her breasts, as if she wasn’t aware of what he was doing. His eyes shone and she suspected he’d made one too many trips to the punch bowl. It wasn’t an excuse for his behavior. He was the type of male she’d never take seriously if she were seeking a husband.

She released a long sigh. ‘I fear my mother is ruthless in her intentions for me to marry a much older man.’