“That’s one way to increase business,” he said dryly.
“In truth,” she said, “I can dance both the men’s and the women’s part.”
He chuckled. “No need for that.”
“But the dress—”
“My sister should be able to help. We are nearly there.”
His sister’s London home was in an exclusive neighborhood that wasn’t quite the peak of respectability. He knew it was an annoyance to his elderly brother-in-law that they hadn’t managed a better residence, but some things only an old title could buy, and the Dunnamore title was a bit too Irish for that. Nevertheless, the man had done adequately for his family, and there was no shame in that. Elliott pulled to a stop and let his tiger jump down to hold the horse’s heads as he disembarked. Then there was that delightful moment when he could grip Miss Gohar’s waist as he helped her down. Her middle was solid with muscle, thin enough to carry off the best fashions, and situated below the most glorious breasts.
It wasn’t gentlemanly of him to notice, but some things should be appreciated.
“My lord! So happy you are here.”
Elliott turned in surprise to view his sister’s butler stepping out of the house and waving him inside.
“My lord, please do come in!”
That was odd. He’d never seen a butler act so strangely. To come outside like this and wave him inside like a hawker pulling in customers. It was unseemly and—
The butler dropped his voice to a low hiss. “Hurry!”
Oh hell. Something was very amiss. “Excuse me,” he said to Miss Gohar as he ran up the walk. The butler looked relieved as he held open the door. Then he pitched his voice very loud such that it echoed through the front hallway.
“Welcome, welcome, Lord Byrn. Your sister is in the library. Should I announce you?” He asked the question as he was shaking his head and actively pushing Elliott toward the back room.
Oh hell.“No need,” he said as he rushed ahead and hauled open the library door. He expected to see blood everywhere or a fistfight or something to warrant the butler’s odd behavior. What he saw instead looked absolutely proper, and yet the feeling in the room was horribly wrong.
His sister was backed against the massive library desk, and her stepson—a man ten years older than she and with twice the weight—lounged against the bookcase four feet away. He looked casual, smug, and as much of an ass as ever. His sister, on the other hand, was pale, and her hand trembled where it touched her throat.
“Hello, Diana,” he said as he crossed the room quickly. “So sorry to barge in like this.” He pulled her into a gentle hug that allowed him to whisper into her ear. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered back, but there was no strength in the words just as there seemed to be little in her body. Her touch was fleeting, and even the kiss she bestowed was given more to the air than his cheek.
Despite her warrior-like name, his sister had always appeared delicate with fine features and a bell-like voice. She had a fairy-like beauty, but now she appeared withered. And that grieved him to no end. Why hadn’t he known to stop this wedding twelve years ago?
He turned to address the Dunnamore heir. “Geoffrey, how odd to see you dressed before tea.” The man usually roused himself only to go to the dens and whorehouses.
“I’ve come to dance attendance on my father and dear step-mama.” He didn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice, but far worse was the leer he gave Diana. “Father asked me quite specifically to escort her to a…party for some entertainment.”
He paused before the wordpartywas a clear threat. Everyone here knew his sort of entertainment would not match Diana’s.
“Excellent,” Elliott cried, much to everyone’s surprise. “We shall all go together then, as I have come specifically to beg my sister’s indulgence.”
No fool, Diana nodded her head. “I will always come to your aid, Elliott. How can I help my favorite brother?”
It was a joke. He was her only brother, but it showed him that there was spirit left in her despite her years in this horrendous marriage. Slightly relieved, he crossed to the library door where the butler had just escorted Miss Gohar. He took her hand, oddly pleased that her skin was rough with callouses and had strength. His sister’s frailty had never appealed to him.
“You recall mother speaking of her friend’s daughter? This is Miss Amber Gohar from Berlin, newly come to town. Mother extended an invitation to stay with us, of course, but we are filled to the rafters without a chamber to spare.” That wasn’t remotely true, but it would serve as an excuse. “We had hoped that you have room to spare for her. The Dowager Countess of Morthan has expressly invited her to her granddaughter’s ball tomorrow—”
“And you need help getting everything set, don’t you?” his sister asked.
Miss Gohar curtsied very neatly and spoke in a quiet voice. “It’s all very rushed,” she said. “I have only just arrived in London and—”
“Already, you have an invitation to an exclusive event. How exciting.”
But then Geoffrey had to insert himself into the conversation like the boor he was. “You came all the way from Berlin alone? Without a chaperone?”