Page 31 of How to Start a Scandal

But Seth wasn’t going back because of his mother. He was going back for Violet. Though God knew her life would be better without him, he could not bring himself to hurt her again. Not when she was expecting him.

He was admitted to Almack’s with his esteemed voucher three minutes before eleven o’clock and was led into the small, overcrowded room glowing gold with gilded pillars and small flames enhanced by gilt mirrors. The patronesses sat upon their dais at the upper end and regarded him with scrutiny before inclining their heads in a grudging welcome. He’d nearly been too late to enter, a point of fact they were all well aware of.

It was hot within the ballroom, oppressive with the heat of all those bodies. He eyed the refreshment tables in the supper rooms. Bowls of nearly clear lemonade and crustless bread with glistening smears of butter sat in an unappetising offering.

No wonder men drank before they arrived at Almack’s. All this would be at least a modicum above abhorrent if only one were seasoned with a finger or ten of brandy.

A sweet, powdery scent caught his awareness and drew his attention from the insufficient fare.

‘Lord Dalton.’ The familiar feminine voice rose above the din of conversation and music around him.

He turned to find Lady Violet standing before him in a pink gown that made her cheeks and lips appear pleasantly rosy. It was the high-waisted sort of frock that hugged at her generous breasts and made his stare long to fall into them.

He kept his eyes on hers and tried to speak through the fumble of his mind. ‘Forgive me for being late. I confess, I did not actually want to come.’

He winced inwardly. That was certainly not what he’d meant to say.

Violet couldn’t help the crush of disappointment at Lord Dalton’s statement.

‘Oh.’ It was a simple response. A stupid one that was really no reply at all.

Soon-to-be spinster forces war hero Earl to attend Almack’s. He begrudgingly attends, to placate the poor, insipid fool.

Which might well lead to something rather like:

Soon-to-be spinster gorges self on stale bread and butter at Almack’s, dying soon thereafter. Her last words were cited to be, ‘I wish it had been cake.’

‘I mean, I want to be here.’ Seth glanced around them. ‘Actually I don’t. But I have been anticipating the opportunity to see you.’ He grimaced. ‘That was bad, wasn’t it?’

She laughed, relieved they could both agree it was indeed. ‘It wasn’t particularly good,’ she conceded.

Lord Dalton lowered his head. ‘Shall I try again?’

Violet held out her hand in invitation. ‘By all means.’

To her surprise, he turned around, then spun about to face her once more and lifted a single brow in a debonair manner that made her heartbeat skew. ‘Oh, Lady Violet. Imagine seeing you here.’

‘Imagine.’ She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. ‘And what a wonderful surprise to find you in attendance as well, Lord Dalton.’

He cocked his chin at an arrogant angle. ‘I believe you promised me a dance.’

Heat suffused her entire body. She had been anticipating this moment since their conversation in the garden when he’d first asked. Then even more so since having ices with him, when he’d been so kind to Felicity.

Violet hadn’t been the only one impressed with him. Felicity had commented more than once on the Earl’s kindness and might have mentioned a time or two how handsome he was.

Nervousness left Violet’s stomach swirling. ‘I believe I did promise you a dance.’

Dangerous. He was dangerous.

For her situation. For her heart.

‘I have to ask.’ He looked about as though ensuring no one could overhear their conversation.

She leaned closer. He smelled of shaving soap. No costly cologne or scented pomade, just clean male. And it was heavenly.

‘What did you wish to ask?’ she whispered.

His dark eyes fixed on hers, so fathomless she could fall into them and get lost. ‘Did Hedgehog have his bonnet removed once you returned to the carriage?’