Page 4 of The Lyon’s Lass

“Dancing slippers,” Hodge corrected.

“And how do you know that?”

“I may have spent some time as a valet before the sea called me away.”

“I don’t even know how to dance.” Iain moved his foot in the silly slipper he didn’t find suitable even if he were able.

“I’ve seen you dance. Once in Tortuga, and in Bermuda.” Hodge’s lips pulled up with the memory and Iain could imagine he’d made a lasting memory with his clomping about.

“It’s not so difficult to swing a lass around and make her laugh. However, I don’t know the actual steps a lady will expect from a proper lord.”

“I should shave off these whiskers,” Hodge complained with his lips pulled to the side in distaste. Lips covered in their own whiskers.

“You’ll not touch my beard. It’s bad enough what you’ve done to my hair.” Iain’s long, black hair had been shorn to just below his chin and was tied back so tightly it was giving Iain a pain in his temples.

“Stop your whining. Do you want to find a rich bride or no?”

Iain wanted to lash out with a very loud, “No.” But Hodge knew well that this endeavor was not about what Iain wanted. He needed only to entice a lady with a large dowry by his charm and title to wed him, then he could settle her in his estate with his tenants and staff and jump on his ship to get back to his life. And if the lass had enough blunt to fund his next trip, even better. At least he’d get something from it.

Somehow Hodge had managed to scrounge up an invitation to a proper ball. And had spent most of the afternoon schooling Iain on which ladies did and did not have the dowries he needed.

Iain’s displeasure wasn’t simply from the tightness of his shoes, but for the predatory nature of his plans. Out there was an innocent woman who would smile and swoon at his pleasant words and quick wit. He’d been told his bright green eyes were enticing a few times which would help his cause. A plan to trick a woman into marrying him.

What kind of a man wouldn’t dislike having to stoop to something so villainous? He only managed to force himself out of the fancy townhouse he’d recently acquired with the assurance that the woman would not come to any harm. He would see her taken care of and would leave her to her own interests when he returned to his ship.

“Luck be with you,” Hodges said as he closed Iain into the carriage.

“I’m going to need more than luck,” he muttered as the carriage pulled away toward certain doom.

“This is a horrible idea,” Maisy complained as she took another large swig of wine while standing at the wall in the Thedstaff ballroom.

“Getting intoxicated at a function is the perfect way to blemish your reputation without falling into all out ruination,” Caroline assured. “Here, your glass is empty. Take mine.”

Maisy frowned while exchanging glasses with her friend.

“How much do I need to drink? I will soon need to go to the retiring room to relieve myself of all this liquid.”

“You’ll know when you’ve had enough. I think.” That last part was said quieter, making Maisy wonder if she should have gone along with Caro’s plan at all.

Soon enough, though, Maisy had an answer to her question. It seemed four glasses of wine was enough to make it difficult for Maisy to walk in the direction she tried to go. It also made the act of stumbling quite hilarious.

“Good. You are well and truly in your cups now. You just need to walk out onto the dance floor and attempt to dance. Everyone will see and be talking about you. Mrs. Dove-Lyon will have to help you then.”

“Wif who shallp I dance?” Maisy asked, thinking that didn’t sound quite right.

“With no one. Just dance as you did when you were a girl in the country.”

“I neber danced in the country.”

Caroline gave her a tiny shove toward the dance floor and Maisy did her best to concentrate so her feet—which felt much too large for her body—took her in the direction Caroline had pointed.

Maisy swayed and then picked her head up from staring at her feet. But raising her head while a dozen couples spun around her made her dizzy and a moment after she felt dizzy, she felt something else. Something awful.

“Peez exhume me,” she slurred while turning in the opposite direction to run for the door. She would have made it safely outside, if not for the giant standing in the Thedstaff lobby. She ran right into him, looked up and up again into eyes the color of the grass in Cornwall. His hands came to her arms to steady her.

“What’s wrong with you?” he said a moment before she bent and vomited all over his satin breeches and the largest dancing slippers she’d ever seen.

Iain frowned down at the mess the girl made of his silly clothes. The woman looked quite curdled as she swayed.