Page 29 of A Story of Love

“Alas, the Marquess is the one who controls the purse strings, so I daresay I’ll do as my grandfather wishes if I want to go on in any sort of style.” Fast felt no shame about lying so blatantly.

“Good Lord, Fast! All those years at sea on a privateer vessel and you are not a wealthy man? I was given to believe the prize money was like low-hanging fruit.”

“Are you asking me how much money I made, Bev? How vulgar.”

The other man flushed. “Just seems odd that you would have stayed away so long if you weren’t successful.”

“I couldn’t come back until I was summoned, could I?”

Moreland opened his mouth to say something, but then froze, his gaze flickering over Fast’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but the fierce female you hardly know is headed your way.”

Bloody hell.

Fast sighed and turned to his tormentrix. “Miss Fontenot, fancy seeing you here.” He bowed. “What a pleasure.”

“Lord Severn.” She dropped a curtsey so brief it didn’t even merit the name. Her striking green eyes slid to Moreland. Again, he felt reluctant to introduce the two, but it would insult her not to do so.

“Bevil, this is Miss Lorelei Fontenot.”

She dropped a far deeper curtsey. “It is a pleasure, my lord.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Moreland said, his tone so pompous and condescending it set Fast’s teeth on edge. The earl bowed over Miss Fontenot’s hand in a way that would probably cause most virginal young misses to flutter and blush.

Miss Fontenot, who was made of firmer stuff, looked faintly amused.

But when Bevil didn’t immediately release her hand, she gave it an unsubtle tug and then turned away from the handsome lord.

The earl frowned at the rude dismissal, but Miss Fontenot’s attention was already fixed on Fast, so she did not notice.

“I was surprised when your two friends called on me the other day, Lord Severn.”

He returned her smirk, amused by her fire; most people wouldn’t be so sanguine to be visited by not one, but two, Bow Street Runners. “I’m so pleased to hear you enjoyed meeting them. I do hope their visit served its purpose.”

“Oh, I think you might be surprised at the interesting repercussions that brief visit will yield.” A taunting smile lurked in her eyes.

Fast raised an eyebrow at her barely veiled threat. “How intriguing that sounds.”

“You two seem very well-acquainted,” Moreland said. “How did you meet?”

Fast had forgotten they weren’t alone and turned to find the earl eyeing Miss Fontenot in a way that made his hands curl into fists.

“Lord Severn came to my rescue in a time of need,” Miss Fontenot said.

Could the woman have said anything that was more likely to pique a person’s interest?

Moreland opened his mouth, no doubt to ask for details, but Fast didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Miss Fontenot broke a strap on her sandal at Lady Marten’s picnic and I repaired it for her,” Fast lied. Where he’d met the woman—and why—was none of Moreland’s damned business.

Miss Fontenot gave Fast a querying look—obviously curious as to why he had lied—but she did not contradict him.

Moreland, however, looked disappointed by his mundane answer and changed tack. “Fontenot is an unusual name.”

“It’s not so unusual if one is French,” Miss Fontenot countered with the same casual incivility she’d always employed with Fast. Moreland’s frown said he didn’t find her dismissive treatment as amusing as Fast did.

Miss Fontenot either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Indeed, instead of soothing the earl’s ruffled feathers, she heightened his displeasure by turning her shoulder to him and saying to Fast, “I need to talk to you privately.”

“I’m not sure a ballroom is the best place to—”

“This next dance is a waltz. Do you have it free?”