The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,15

all my matches with your happiness in mind,” he said with a wink and a grin while the men nearby chuckled.

“You flirt!” She slapped his arm with her fan. “My husband was very upset he couldn’t attend with Alexander and Andrew, but he was told about every punch you threw over breakfast the following morning. It sounded gruesome.”

“It was gruesome. Especially for my opponent.”

“The reason I came over to see you, other than to make sure you were still in one piece, was to introduce to you Miss Edith Fairchild. Miss Fairchild, Mr. James Thompson, my dear niece Elspeth’s brother.”

James had been watching the young woman—spectacularly beautiful and well of aware of that fact—the whole time he conversed with Isadora. She gazed at him boldly, though she gave a few surreptitious glances to a man at the edge of the crowd, who was glaring at her. She tilted her head coyly and held out a gloved hand.

“Oh, Mr. Thompson. How brave you are to enter a match to the death with another man!”

He kissed her hand, turned it palm up, and kissed her wrist. He smiled indulgently at her when he lifted his head. “Hardly a fight to the death, Miss Fairchild. My opponent still lives.”

He turned his head to answer a question from another man. He didn’t want any part of some spoiled debutante’s plan to make the man now scowling at him jealous.

“The orchestra is starting up again, James. Be a dear and partner with Miss Fairchild,” Isadora said.

There was no way he could graciously get himself out of that request. He turned to the young woman. “I’d be honored to dance with you, Miss Fairchild, if you are free.”

“With me? How kind you are, sir!”

James led her to the dance floor and placed his hand on her waist, holding her as far from his body as he could, which made him think about a willowy blond whom he’d held closer than polite manners dictated. Miss Fairchild smiled up at him and glanced at the man still watching her from the edge of the dance floor.

Lucinda had been watching him from behind a group of matrons that included Aunt Louisa. She didn’t believe he knew she was there, as one of the women wore huge yellow plumes in her hair that Lucinda had been able to stand behind and not been seen by most in the room. Aunt Louisa had looked at her strangely when she did not join her friends as the dancing started, many of whom were congregated around James Thompson, who was, in her opinion, the very epitome of conceit.

Lucinda had watched Edith approach Mrs. Pendergast and gesture to Thompson with a shrug and some tittering. She could just imagine what Edith was saying. But Thompson was not taken in by Edith, she didn’t think, even as he smiled at her and kissed her gloved hand for an overly long time, earning a sharp look from Mr. Kingley at the edge of the crowd. No, Mr. Thompson was not interested in Edith. But there was a woman he was interested in.

Mrs. DeLuca. The young widow had been left piles of money by her elderly husband when he passed, Edith had told her. She was dark-haired and mysterious and had a sultry air about her that, combined with her vast wealth and abundant cleavage, had men of every age panting at her heels. She was signaling Thompson with little subtlety. Perfect, she thought to herself and went to find a willing—and bribable—servant after telling her aunt she was going to join with her friends gathered in the music room.

James turned when there was a discreet touch to his elbow and looked at the servant.

“Mr. Thompson?”

“Yes?”

The man handed him a folded note. He could smell its perfume without even bringing it to his nose—some expensive fragrance, as he had little doubt who had penned it. He turned away after thanking the man, but not before catching the eye of John Williams, who lifted one brow and grinned.

He read the note, winked at Williams, excused himself, and made his way across the room, avoiding those he knew as anticipation began to thrum in his veins. He would not allow a haughty virgin to interfere with his pleasure by lodging herself in his head while he prowled toward the door of the room and his target. She would stay right where she should. Far away from him.

James walked past the open door to the music room, where someone was