The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,67

becoming his mistress.

The only thing worse than being replaced and forgotten was being tucked away in the darkness on purpose.

She would rather remain a proud Wynchester spinster than some man’s secret shame.

22

Lord Southerby stepped into Lawrence’s path before he could reach the Yorks.

Lawrence gritted his teeth. He was not in the mood to talk about Chloe—or business affairs. “I don’t have my portion to invest yet, but I will before the end of the season.”

“So you said.” The earl gave a lazy shrug and nodded in the direction from which Lawrence had come. “Quite a lot of interest you’ve been showing in Miss Wynchester lately, hmm?”

Lawrence could barely even walk away without longing to sneak another glance at her over his shoulder. He’d just been at her side moments before, and yet every time he glimpsed her he felt as if he were standing at the helm of a ship. Her presence had force, like a strong wind buffeting him off his feet.

Except this time his sails carried him to a different shore.

“I’ve no claim on her,” he forced himself to reply. “I… hope she makes a splendid match.”

“Doubtless someone will bite.” Southerby’s lips stretched in a slow smile—the wolfish one mothers warned their daughters about. “I find her intriguing. She seems like the sort of woman one might like to know.”

“She is,” Lawrence agreed, before he could stop himself.

And why should he stop himself? Or the Earl of Southerby, rather? The raffish lord was a well-connected gentleman with no debts to pay and a promising development project that would increase his already considerable fortune. He was charming, intelligent, friendly… Dashing Lord Southerby was practically perfect in every way.

He made Lawrence’s stomach roil.

“She has no dowry,” he told Southerby. “The new heir is rich, but Miss Wynchester is not.”

The earl looked as though Lawrence had sprouted horns. “What do I care about dowries?”

Bull’s-eye. A perfect arrow. That was the difference between the two men. One must wed for money, and the other could pursue anyone he wished.

“And before you tell me she’s from a scandalous family, I know that as well,” Southerby added. “According to the gossip columns, I happen to be considered somewhat scandalous myself. Miss Wynchester might not wish to waltz with a ‘shameless rakehell’ like me.” He cuffed Lawrence on the shoulder. “Relax, Faircliffe. All I’m looking for is someone interesting to dance with.”

Lawrence clenched his fists.

The earl might only be thinking of a single dance, rather than a lifetime of marriage, but every moment in Chloe’s company fanned Lawrence’s desire for more. He had no doubt the earl would feel the same. Chloe could be the one to bring a “shameless rakehell” like Southerby up to scratch.

But he had no right to care whom she married. He was supposed to be chasing Miss York.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He sidestepped the earl.

Southerby might be about to whisk Chloe off her feet, but Lawrence didn’t have to watch it happen. It was time to stand up with Miss York for their set.

Without looking back, he closed the final distance. “I believe this dance is mine?”

Miss York laid her hand on his forearm without comment, but her mother stepped forward to whisper into Lawrence’s ear, “Is this the moment?”

“For my minuet with your daughter?” he asked, misunderstanding on purpose. “Yes, I’m quite certain. Miss York, if I may?”

“Good-bye, Mother,” she said flatly.

“There’s no ‘good-bye,’” her mother spluttered. “I’ll be watching. Give me a sign when—”

The opening chords drowned out whatever else Mrs. York meant to say.

Lawrence barely arranged himself and Miss York in position in time to begin the dance with the others.

Although he tried not to look, his gaze flicked over her shoulder toward Chloe.

She was not dancing with Southerby. Chloe and her great-aunt were ducking out before the song had ended. Disappearing without saying good-bye. His chest ached. It was as though a hole had opened within him.

When she left, Chloe took the air from his lungs with her.

He returned his gaze to Miss York, trying his damnedest for a pleasant smile. Perhaps Chloe’s sudden absence would allow him to concentrate on fulfilling his duty, as he should have been doing all along.

Miss York gazed back at him, her expression level and her eyes blank as she completed each step of the minuet without fault.

She was a clever woman. Everyone said so, even if Miss York was disinclined to share her intellect with Lawrence. He would not force the matter. Animated conversation was not a prerequisite for