Blast it. The options were few. He supposed he’d have to attend a ball or two with the hope of coming upon her.
“What has you glaring at your whiskey with such ferocity, Linford?” Viscount Maynard, one of his least favorite people since the blasted wallflower wager, sank into the chair at his table without invitation.
“Nothing.” He wouldn’t tell the man what was on his mind for all the gold in London. Well, probably not. “What brings you here, Maynard?”
The viscount stared as if he’d lost his mind, making Winston realize he had. Why else would he have asked such an inane question while sitting at his club?
“A hand of cards or a roll of the dice, I suppose.” The viscount lifted the drink in his hand. “And a whiskey. Why else would I be at the club?”
For conversation. For friendship. To unburden oneself or seek counsel. Why those thoughts came to mind, Winston couldn’t say. Normally, his own reasons for coming to the club were the same as Maynard’s.
He shifted his shoulders, telling himself nothing had changed. He certainly hadn’t. A pair of cobalt eyes were no reason to question the way he spent his days. It wasn’t as if he was suddenly dissatisfied or bored with his life.
With a sharp intake of breath that required him to reach out a hand to the table to steady himself, he reassured himself that wasn’t the case at all.
“What has you acting so strangely, Linford?” Maynard took a sip of his drink and waved at a server for another for both of them. “You seem out of sorts.”
“Distracted, I suppose.” Yes, that was it. “How has your luck been of late?” Winston didn’t care but needed a diversion to shift his thoughts to something—or someone—else.
“Quite well, actually.” The viscount’s smug smile grated on Winston’s nerves. “Won a fair amount of blunt last night and have a new mistress.” He lifted his glass. “Nothing to complain about.”
That wasn’t enough. That couldn’t be all there was to life. Yet Winston wouldn’t deny that even a few weeks ago, the short list of accomplishments would’ve had him feeling smug as well.
He was most definitely off his usual game. Nothing to be concerned about, he reassured himself. Seeing Eliza and Trentworth so blissfully happy unbalanced him. That was all.
It had nothing to do with the delicate line of Millicent’s neck, or her alabaster skin that begged to be kissed. Or the intelligent conversation he’d overheard her having at the dinner party,regarding some matter before Parliament. Who knew she had opinions on such things?
“Care for a hand of cards?” Winston found himself asking when Millicent remained stubbornly in his thoughts. It didn’t matter that he didn’t enjoy playing with Maynard. The man was always out for blood rather than a friendly game for amusement. It wasn’t as if the viscount needed money when his family was ridiculously wealthy.
“Why not?” Maynard pushed to his feet. “Nothing better to do than take your money,” he said with a snicker.
Winston made him pay for that remark by winning three hands before calling it quits. He liked having Maynard in his debt, however briefly.
“You’re leaving without allowing me the chance to win back my losses?” Maynard glared at Winston when he pushed away the deck of cards.
“I am. I have matters to see to.” Winston bid the viscount goodbye, his spirits much improved. He had only needed to return to his usual routine to make the unsettled feeling pass.
His relief at that fact was so great that he whistled as he stepped out of the club, only to nearly bump into Viscount Dunthorpe.
“Sorry,” the man murmured, even though it had been Winston’s fault.
“Not at all.” Winston didn’t know him well, but he seemed rather troubled. “Is all well?”
The viscount heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I suppose. Mother and Father are pressuring me to marry soon. Nothing I say changes their mind.”
Winston chuckled, partly from relief at not having a parent do the same to him. It was bad enough to hear about it from Eliza and a few aunts and uncles. Luckily, he didn’t have to answerto them. “Poor luck. Are they at least allowing you to select the lady?”
“They’ve narrowed it down to three.” He shook his head. “Can you believe that? What’s the rush?”
“Good question.” Winston clapped him on the shoulder. “Wish you the best of luck.”
“Say, you wouldn’t mind giving your opinion of them, would you?”
“Oh, I probably don’t know them.” Winston scrambled for an excuse to disengage. That was the last thing in which he wanted to become involved. “Wouldn’t be fair for me to share an opinion.”
“Doesn’t have to be anything formal, of course,” Dunthorpe continued, eyes narrowed as if considering the possibilities. “If you happen to go to the Hayward Ball tomorrow evening, one or two might be there.”
“I don’t know that I’ll attend.” Yet hadn’t he just been thinking about going to a ball with the hope of seeing Millicent? No doubt he had an invitation lying around somewhere.