Page 18 of To Steal a Kiss

He had to see her again.

***

24th June 1814. The Eversley’s’ Ball, Regent’s Park, London.

Nate surveyed the crush of people before him and sighed. Miss Alice Dowding had a great deal to answer for.

With Matilda on his arm, they braved the crowd. His sister was looking especially lovely tonight, and he glowered at many men who sent covetous glances in her direction. Bastards. They’d offer her insult but no proposals of marriage. All because of Montagu.

With all Nate’s newfound wealth and power, he still couldn’t touch the man. The breath of scandal fell far from his door; no one dared speak a word against Montagu. He was a dangerous man with a long reach and a longer memory, and he was known to annihilate those who threatened his family name, no matter how innocuous the slight.

Nate had tried to call him out for what he’d done, and devil had laughed in his face, as though Nate was beneath his notice. Which of course, he was. For now. With any other man perhaps there would have been the stigma of shame, an accusation of lack of honour or courage at not meeting the challenge.

No one in their right mind would level such an insult at Montagu.

Strangely, Nate accepted that the marquess did not lack honour either, in his own twisted manner. Only that his honour served himself and those bearing his name, no others.

Montagu would pay for the damage he’d done that night, though. Nate would make certain of that.

“Slow down,” Matilda hissed, awaiting her chaperone, who was struggling to keep up.

Mrs Bradford was a no-nonsense, stocky woman of middling years, and the chaperone Matilda had taken on to attend to her on the occasions Nate refused to… which was most of them. How Tilda stood it, he didn’t know. Why did she put herself through it, facing all these people who would rather gossip and shun her given half the chance?

Nate strongly suspected that Matilda usually installed Mrs Bradford in a comfortable chair with a glass and a companion to talk to, and never saw her again all evening, but it was none of his affair. Matilda had always been the sensible one, the one with her eye on propriety, which was half the reason that night had left such a ragged hole in his heart. Good God, Matilda at a men’s club, alone, in the middle of the night! How desperate she must have been.

His heart clenched and, as he usually did with unpleasant things, he decided he didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, there’s Lucia!”

Nate looked around as Matilda waved a gloved hand. Following the movement, his eyes fell upon a stunning woman. With golden skin and raven hair, she was creating quite a stir, and with good reason. Men fought and died for women like that, Nate thought. To his chagrin, however, it was just an observation. He didn’t feel even a flicker of interest. What the hell was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he salivating and demanding his sister introduce them at once?

A prickle of unease worked beneath his skin as he realised he didn’t give a damn for the dark-eyed beauty. He was desperate for a glimpse of red hair. He wanted to know what colour her eyes were. Had they been green or blue? It had been impossible to tell, and the question plagued him. The need to know had attained vital importance. Bloody hell, just how ridiculous had he become?

Nate smiled and nodded through the introduction to Miss Lucia de Feria, his gaze sweeping across the assembled people, searching for that telltale glint of fiery locks.

“You are the proprietor of Hunter’s, I believe, Mr Hunt?” The young woman asked him, and he forced his attention back to the conversation. Despite her foreign name, the she spoke English as a native, without so much as the trace of an accent. He’d gathered she’d been raised here after being orphaned since a young age after being orphaned.

“I am,” he said, smiling. “Do you enjoy gambling, Miss de Feria?” he asked, a teasing note to his voice. Of course, no young lady of quality could ever attend Hunter’s.

“I do, as a matter of fact. Gambling everything on a solitary roll of the dice….” She paused, a rather enigmatic smile at her lovely mouth. “Yes, I think I like to gamble very much.”

Nate frowned a little, aware that there was some secret meaning to the words he could not fathom. Under normal circumstances that would have piqued his interest. Tonight, he just wanted to find Alice. He craned his neck, scanning the far edges of the room and catching glimpses here and there of the young ladies who sat on the side lines. No sign of Alice, though.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Nate looked back to find both her and Miss de Feria watching him with avid curiosity.

“No,” he replied, perhaps a little too quickly, just a touch too defiant. “Just wondered if any of my cronies were in attendance,” he added with a grin. “I need a drinking companion to get me through.”

Matilda rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hand.

“Away with you then, rogue. Don’t forget you owe me a dance. Lucia too,” she added, linking arms with the young woman beside her.

Nate regarded the two women with a dispassionate gaze. Good God, if there was any man with a pulse here tonight, the two of them ought to be danced off their feet.

Nonetheless, he bowed. “It would be a pleasure.”

With relief he plunged into the fray, heading towards the ranks of the wallflowers. There was little point in kidding himself he was here for any other reason. He had to find Alice. Would she even recognise him, he wondered? The thought made him pause, a shiver of unease sliding down his spine as that thought led to another….