Cocky Mister (Regency Cocky Gents #3) - Annabelle Anders

Chapter 1

A Protector

Stone Spencer, the second son of the Earl of Ravensdale, stepped onto the terrace and silently closed the French doors behind him.

Of course, he would find her here. Lady Tabetha Fitzwilliam ought to know better than to leave a ball, unchaperoned, away from the safety of others, even if she only intended to do so for a few minutes.

She stood beneath the moonlight, resting her arms atop a brick wall, her back arched ever so slightly and her bottom pushed out, stretching the fabric of her pastel pink gown in a manner that had Stone wanting to strangle her.

For a lady who had been extensively schooled on all matters of propriety, she certainly was a reckless minx.

He’d been “watching out” for her, at the request of her brother, for three weeks now, and this was precisely the sort of behavior he’d come to expect: following rules when they were convenient for her and exhibiting naïve cluelessness where her safety, as well as the safety of her reputation, was concerned. She not only seemed to trust the worst sort of gentlemen, but she brazenly flirted with them—as long as they held titles.

In other words, never with him.

If Stone were a duke, a marquess, or an earl, perhaps she would deign to lower herself. She might even do so if he was a wealthy viscount.

But Lady Tabetha Fitzwilliam was not about to waste her efforts on the second son of an earl, or even trifle with one, for that matter.

Likely, that was why the Earl of Westerley had asked him to keep watch over her in his absence. She was safe from Stone, a gentleman who lacked any title whatsoever. Or, rather, he was safe from her.

Stone’s eye twitched in annoyance as he appreciated her shapely figure in the moonlight.

“Meeting someone?” he intentionally provoked her. Blond curls pinned atop her head shone like white gold in the moonlight, and the creamy skin revealed by the cut of her gown appeared almost alabaster. The diamonds in her tiara sparkled when she stiffened.

She touched a hand to her hair but did not turn around to greet him. “I came outside to be alone.”

Which was precisely why he’d followed her. Other gentlemen, men with perverse intentions, might consider her sojourn from the ballroom as an invitation of sorts. Those who didn’t consider it an invitation might pounce on it as more of an opportunity.

Lady Tabetha was no antidote. In fact, she was rather pleasant to look at—too pleasant at times—but more importantly, her dowry was larger than most. When her sister’s husband had refused to accept the dowry set aside for her, their mother had simply added that sum to the younger daughter’s.

Not only did Lady Tabetha require protection from opportunistic impoverished lords but from her own naiveté. She was lucky Westerley had realized that even under her mother’s oversight, she’d still be vulnerable amidst such gentlemen.

Her brother, a newly married man who was besotted with his wife, was currently more than a little… distracted, as was her newly married older sister.

Already the Season had proven more entertaining than most.

Stone ambled to the wall and leaned forward, clasping his hands loosely on the ledge beside her.

“General expectations are that you would discreetly go away when a person expresses her desire to be alone,” she said.

He didn’t have to look to know she’d lifted her chin in defiance.

“So good of you to set me straight.” But Stone didn’t move. It felt good to be out of the stuffy ballroom.

“I now understand why your parents named you Stone.” She gave a little huff. “Because you have nothing but rocks between your ears.”

Stone chuckled at that. She was at least partly right. He was known as the stubborn one.

Even so, he far preferred ‘Stone’ to the name his father had burdened him with at birth, in honor of dear Uncle Buckley. Not many outside his family were aware of it, and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t even like to think about it.

Although listed in Debrett’s, he wasn’t much more than a side note. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re always laughing at me,” she complained.

“You amuse me.” On the occasions when she wasn’t inciting him to violence on her behalf, that was.

He felt, as much as heard, her heavy sigh.

“My sister and Lady Felicity are both advising me to steer clear of Culpepper.”

As in the Duke of Culpepper—a questionable character at best. Unfortunately, as one of the few unmarried dukes who wasn’t