regret was in not purchasing her a pair of topaz earrings to complement the outfit. He’d paid the modiste handsomely to deliver the gown courtesy of his stepmother, knowing Maggie would never accept the gift from him.
Leo made a small sound of surprise, his head following Tony’s gaze. “Christ, she’s the heiress Winthrop’s been bragging about bagging.” Understanding suffused Leo’s features. “She was the girl at Elysium. Miss Margaret Lainscott, Lady Dobson’s niece. No wonder you hate him.”
Tony gave his brother a scathing look before returning his attention to Maggie. His eyes ran over her petite form again, remembering in detail every curve and hollow of her body. Her skin had felt like satin beneath his lips.
Misery shone from her eyes. When Winthrop moved in her direction, Tony could see her shrinking back from him, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Pear-shaped prick. A deep possessive rage pulsed through him as Winthrop took Maggie’s hand, pulling her forward to stand next to him. Winthrop wasn’t even remotely suitable for her, yet Lady Dobson was in favor of the match. Why?
“What do you know about the late Lord Dobson’s finances?” Tony asked his brother in a chilly tone.
“Lord Dobson? You realize he’s been dead for years?”
“I’m aware.”
Pressing a finger to his lips Leo said thoughtfully, “he was heavily leveraged at Elysium. Owed me a small fortune for gambling and his other pleasures. I took pity on the man after meeting his wife.” He nodded in the direction of Lady Dobson. “His debts were settled upon his death by her, which surprised me.”
“Why were you surprised?”
“While he was alive, he couldn’t pay me the sum he owed. He’d only the London house left. I’m not sure where Lady Dobson got the money, nor do I care. She paid off his other creditors as well, though not his mistress.” Leo chuckled.
Tony suspected Walter Lainscott had given the money to Lady Dobson. And probably supported her lavish lifestyle during his lifetime. An immense scandal had erupted over her younger sister’s hasty marriage to Walter Lainscott, nearly ruining the chances for Agnes to make a decent match. She’d had to settle for Dobson. Amanda had told Tony the entire sordid tale over tea one day. His stepmother didn’t care for Lady Dobson in the least.
Now that Walter was dead, Tony surmised Lady Dobson had lost her source of income. There was probably an annual sum for Maggie’s support, but the bulk of the money would be in her dowry. Maybe Lady Dobson had made a bargain of sorts with Winthrop in return for agreeing to the marriage.
“No wonder you’re in a snit. Your Miss Lainscott is set to wed Winthrop.” Leo shot him a sympathetic look and nodded in Maggie’s direction. “She looks smashing, by the way. Pity the dress will be ruined once Winthrop paws her. I’ve never met a gentleman who sweats so much.”
“I agree,” Welles said, not wishing to give away the anger mounting with every look Winthrop bestowed on Maggie. “A shame to ruin the dress. Though it isn’t any of my business whom she marries. Winthrop or anyone else.”
“True,” Leo said absently. “It isn’t as though you could marry her.”
Tony ignored his brother’s baiting.
Lady Dobson stood smug next to Maggie, the massive crimson turban on her head tilting slightly as she greeted an acquaintance. Her angular features were made sharper by the light of the chandeliers. She said something to Maggie, a chastisement of some sort, if the sneer on Lady Dobson’s face was any indication.
“Bitch,” he cursed under his breath, his fists clenching.
“Careful, brother,” Leo said softly. “You can’t run across the ballroom floor and claim her.”
The sight across the room made Tony angrier, fueling the ugly jealousy and possessiveness already circulating in his system.
A flurry of blue skirts appeared, surrounding Maggie. It was his sister, Romy. Maggie and Romy greeted each other warmly while Lady Dobson frowned in displeasure. She didn’t care for the fact her niece had managed to garner the support of the Duchess of Averell and her daughters.
“Tony—”
“Oh, look, there’s Lady Masterson and she’s nearly falling out of her gown,” Tony said, knowing his brother’s questions about Maggie would be immediately forgotten. Leo’s attention would be focused elsewhere. Tony turned back to his tiny pianist clothed in gold.
You want her.
So, take her.
23
If I don’t remain calm, I’ll soon be sweating like Winthrop.
Margaret cast a glance at the gentleman who assumed she’d marry him without a protest. Were he, at the very least, a kind