Alec said, trying to maintain his jovial air. He failed miserably, he was certain. But he did try. Then he tried to appear unconcerned when he saw Radbourne making his way slowly across the ballroom toward Sorcha. There was no way he could leave the group of Englishmen and get to her first. If he did, he’d be painting her the very picture of a fallen woman. If he didn’t, Radbourne would intercept her in barely a moment.
Of course, he could strangle Radbourne as soon as no one was looking. And the blasted Lycan couldn’t defile Sorcha with a ballroom full of witnesses.
Alec gritted his teeth. Just as soon as he could dispense with the irritating Sassenach peers, he’d make certain Radbourne and his unruly brothers kept their tails away from Sorcha.
“Is that Lady Eynsford?” Loughton murmured. “I don’t suppose she was in the orangery this afternoon.”
Chilcombe’s dark eyes twinkled with merriment. “He always has had a fondness for the marchioness, hasn’t he?”
“Fond enough to fondle her in the orangery?” Dewsbury smirked to himself.
“Are you saying I’m correct?” Loughton asked, his chest puffed out with pride.
Before Chilcombe could reply, the blasted Marquess of Eynsford himself was at Alec’s shoulder. “Ah, MacQuarrie. I thought I noticed you.”
More like the man heard his wife’s name mentioned and thought to put a stop to it, especially as Alec’s name was linked to hers. Much as Alec despised the wolfish marquess, the man’s arrival would put an end to the unfortunate conversation. He grunted in greeting instead of actually having to speak to Eynsford.
“It’s been an age,” the marquess continued as though he and Alec were the best of friends. “Much too long.”
Alec met Eynsford’s eye and managed a grim smile. If he had his way, it would be countless ages before he saw the Lycan again, if ever. “Indeed. It has been forever since I’ve seen you or your lovely wife.” Perhaps that would end the speculation that Cait had been with him in the orangery. He didn’t want to see her reputation besmirched anymore than he wanted Sorcha’s sullied.
“Well, Eynsford Park is very close. Perhaps you’ll pay us a visit while you’re in Kent.”
Just as soon as hell froze over. “How generous of you.”
Alec’s eyes strayed across the crowd to where Radbourne paraded Sorcha around the perimeter of the ballroom. He clenched his jaw at the sight. Damned Lycan. “Actually, Eynsford, there is something I’d like to discuss with you. How fortuitous that our paths should cross this evening.” He looked over his shoulder at Chilcombe’s group of debauched peers. “Do excuse us, will you?”
He didn’t wait for a reply as he turned on his heel and started for the nearest corner. Eynsford was quick on his tail, and Alec found himself begrudgingly glad of the fact. It was better to get this over with sooner rather than later.
“What were those buffoons going on about?” the marquess demanded in sotto voce.
Alec squared his shoulders and leveled his most scathing gaze at his one-time rival. “Keep your mutts away from Sorcha.”
Eynsford furrowed his brow. “Are you threatening me, MacQuarrie?”
“A threat is usually followed with an ‘or else.’ I demanded, not threatened. You really should know the difference. Keep your damn hounds away from her.”
“Certainly has the timbre of a threat.” The blasted marquess had the audacity to look amused. “What I am most curious about is why you think you have any right to dictate whom Sorcha can and cannot associate. Do you have some sort of arrangement with the lass I’ve not been informed of?”
A muscle twitched in Alec’s jaw. “I have always cared about Sorcha’s well-being.”
“How noble of you.”
Alec would have loved to pummel the smug look from Eynsford’s face, but not in this setting. Not with all of these witnesses. “I won’t see her suffer Caitrin’s fate.”
The damned man looked even more smug, though Alec wasn’t certain how that was possible. “My wife has no complaints about her lot in life. If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask her. In the meantime, I’ll thank you to keep her name off scurrilous men’s tongues. Chilcombe was lucky I didn’t rip his head from his shoulders back there.”
Alec actually wouldn’t have minded the sight, though he doubted the duchess would have enjoyed her ball being disrupted by decapitated earls. “I have no control over Chilcombe or anyone else.”
Eynsford shrugged. “And I have no control over Lord Radbourne or his brothers.”
Alec noted the man didn’t say my brothers; to do so