“Mm,” was all Alasdair said, giving the women barely any attention.
Curiosity? He had it for them, possibly. But interest? No. He was only interested in one woman tonight.
His eyes scanned the crowd for a blonde who would more likely hide than seek him out.
Anger slowly rose in his chest at the sight of Lady Grisham glaring at Elizabeth.
“Ah,” Seth murmured, as he followed Alasdair’s gaze. “So, you prefer a challenge. I call her the White Rose. Ever so pale and delicate.”
Alasdair turned sharply at his friend.
“Ye’ve got yer eye on her, have ye?” he asked, although he knew it should not be his problem.
He was supposed to help Elizabeth find a husband, not a lover, especially not a rake like Seth.
“Don’t fret, Sandy boy,” Seth purred, and Alasdair narrowed his eyes, resenting the nickname, “I like my women a bit more experienced. Besides, I would never touch anything that’s of interest to you.”
Seth’s look was searching. His brow was lifted. He wanted to know just how much interest the duke had in the lady. However, Alasdair had no intention of revealing anything.
“She does look like she’d rather be at a funeral than huntin’ for a husband here,” Alasdair observed, not commenting on his friend’s words.
His lips twitched, thinking of the work he had to do to help her.
“I can’t blame her. Lady Grisham is a dragon who acknowledges her daughters when she’s parading them like prized heifers at an auction. The eldest escaped with a love match, and to a duke, no less.”
“It’s a right shame she’s still not learned how to fight back,” Alasdair murmured, though the image in his head was far from shameful.
He imagined her standing her ground, flushed and breathless, fire flashing in those wide eyes…her wrists caught in his hands, not in resistance, but in something far more heated.
A lesson in control, in power, in surrender.
Hell. What was he thinking?
He wasn’t supposed to want her. He was meant to teach her. Help her navigate the same society that had trampled her dignity.
But damn it all…heneeded her, too. Needed the glimpse she gave into this world of perfumed lies and smiling cruelty. She wore the ton’s scorn like silk draped too tight, both beautiful and suffocating.
If anyone understood the venom of polite society, it was her. A victim, yes. But one who still hadn’t learned the bite behind the bloom.
And he was just reckless enough to show her.
“Where are you going?” Seth asked, with a knowing grin.
“Oh, explorin’,” he replied casually.
He hadn’t even noticed his feet moving until he was already halfway across the room, leaving Seth behind.
Across the crush of silks and smug smiles, Alasdair saw her.
Her expression shifted from resignation to something sharper. Alert. Like a doe scenting the oncoming storm.
Did she sense him?
Then, their eyes met.
It was like striking flint to stone. Every time it happened, it sparked something raw in him. Unexpected, unwelcome.
Gooseflesh prickled across his arms beneath the fine sleeves of his coat. Damn peculiar. He’d never been so moved by pretty faces or nervous glances. His interactions with women were kept to the minimum before they moved to a bed. Or a chair. Or a wall.