A Season of Ruin (9 page)

Lily stared back at him, torn between horror at his behavior and hysterical laughter. What had come over her, to stand by while he teased them so mercilessly? But amazingly, neither of the ladies seemed to have the least idea he was mocking them. Ashamed as she was of her behavior, however, Lily was wild to hear what he'd say next.

“Of course, it goes without saying the company at Almack's is distinguished by superior manners,” Robyn went on. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you, ladies, that by
manners
, I don't only refer to the exquisite art of conversation, but also to elegant dancing—”

Here Robyn broke off, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Do you dance this evening, Miss Thurston?”

“Yes!” she shouted. “That is,” she continued in more moderate tones, “I do intend to dance this evening, Mr. Sutherland.” She batted stubby eyelashes eagerly at him.

But instead of asking her to dance, Robyn paused, and the pause went on just a shade past the moment when he should have extended the invitation. When he did speak again, he addressed Miss Darlington. “And you, Miss Darlington? Do you intend to dance this evening?”

“I long for a dance,” Miss Darlington said, but just when Lily thought she'd grab Robyn and drag him forcibly to the dance floor, Miss Thurston interrupted her.

“Didn't you say, Beatrice, you never intended to dance tonight? I'm sure you said your new slippers pinched dreadfully and you couldn't dance in them.”

“I said no such thing, Alice,” Miss Darlington exclaimed. “It was
you
who said you didn't care to dance tonight. Why, not ten minutes ago you said it hardly mattered no one had invited you to dance, for you didn't wish to anyway.”

The two ladies glared at each other, but just as Lily began to fear a brawl would erupt, Robyn interceded. “Just as I said,” he drawled. “Superior manners. Delightful.”

Lily stared at him, appalled.

Oh, no.
He'd gone too far now, just as he always did. The two young ladies flushed angrily, and just like that, Robyn's spell dissolved like a puff of smoke in the air.

Lily felt a guilty wash of color surge into her face, for she was just as much at fault as he was. “Mr. Sutherland,” she said, determined to put a stop to the conversation, if belatedly. “Perhaps you could fetch us some lemonade—”

But trying to contain Robyn now was like trying to hold cupped water in her hands. Once the water flowed through her fingers, there was no putting it back again. “But really,” Robyn said as if Lily hadn't spoken. “The best thing about Almack's is the convenience of it.”

Miss Darlington scowled at him. Even her plume quivered with indignation. “Convenience? Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, I suppose as you are young ladies, you wouldn't understand, as the convenience is more of an advantage for the gentlemen. For us, Almack's is rather like a shop.”

Miss Thurston gave a haughty sniff. “I confess I don't see your point, Mr. Sutherland. Almack's is
nothing
like a shop.”

Robyn shook his head. “I beg your pardon, Miss Thurston, but indeed it is. London during the season is a marriage mart, and gentlemen who wish to secure a wife shop for her at Almack's. The Wednesday ball provides a perfect opportunity to inspect the season's wares.”

Miss Darlington and Miss Thurston both gasped in outrage, and Lily began to feel quite desperate. She laid a hand on his arm. “I don't think—”

Robyn took no notice of her. “I've often wondered, in fact, why the patronesses don't provide the debutantes with placards listing their attractions. You know, this young lady has a fine complexion but only a moderate fortune, or that young lady is an heiress, but she's dim-witted and a malicious gossip.”

Placards?
Oh, dear God. Why wouldn't he stop? Lily considered hitting him with her fan after all. It might startle him into silence, and it couldn't get any worse at this point, could it?

She was wrong. It did get worse. Much worse.

“That way a gentleman would know beforehand what he's getting,” Robyn went on. “It would certainly be helpful, and then perhaps more gentlemen would turn up at these balls. For we won't come just for the lemonade, you know.” He winked at Miss Darlington.

The color receded from her face. “Scandalous!”

“What, the lemonade? I quite agree. The cake, too. Stale, you know. I suppose the patronesses don't offer spirits in an effort to civilize the gentlemen, but savages that we are, we only get drunk before we arrive.”

Lily closed her eyes in despair. It was too late. Even the fan couldn't help her. Nothing short of unconsciousness would stop Robyn now.

“I can well believe that of
you
,” Miss Thurston spat. She took a deep breath and drew herself up like a headmistress
about to deliver an ear boxing. “I vow you must be in your cups right now to speak to gently bred ladies in such a disgusting manner.”

Miss Darlington's face had gone purple. “I do hope you don't imagine drunkenness excuses your behavior this evening, Mr. Sutherland. Arriving late, refusing to dance, talking about placards and drinking! And Lord Pelkey isn't wearing a cravat!”

This last point had nothing to do with Robyn, but the missing cravat seemed to have deeply offended Miss Darlington.

Robyn lifted an eyebrow at this outburst. “Pelkey's cravat? He lost it at an inn in Covent Garden. The Pirate's Peg Leg, I believe it was. We were playing a game, you see.”

Lily could well imagine what kind of game they'd been playing. “Don't, Robyn.”

But it was no use. “It's a splendid game. One gentleman holds a barmaid on his lap. She hikes her skirts to her knees and extends her leg and the other gentlemen take turns trying to wrap the cravat around her leg.”

Miss Thurston swayed, as if she were about to faint.

Robyn gave her an encouraging smile. “The gentleman may only use his teeth at this point in the game, of course, for it wouldn't be challenging otherwise, and what fun is there in that?”

He addressed this question to Miss Darlington and paused, as if he expected her to answer, but only a choked whimper escaped her lips.

Robyn smiled brightly at them. “We left the Pirate in rather a hurry tonight, and Pelkey left his cravat wrapped around Molly's leg. Or was her name Mary? I can't remember, but no matter. That explains the cravat. Does that make you feel any better?”

Miss Thurston and Miss Darlington stared at him, both of them white-faced and speechless. They were still gaping when Archie and Lady Catherine returned from the dance.

Archie took one look at the ladies' stunned expressions and turned to Robyn. His face darkened with suspicion at Robyn's angelic smile. “Sutherland! What—”

Then Lily did something she never imagined she'd do. “The orchestra has just struck up a reel. Lord Archibald, will you be kind enough to partner me in a dance?”

“She told me she didn't intend to dance tonight,” Robyn said to no one in particular.

Silence greeted this statement. He looked around in surprise to find he stood alone. His mother had drifted off in the direction of the card room with Lady Sutton. Miss Darlington and Miss Thurston, both stiff with outrage, had retreated to the opposite side of the ballroom, as far away from Robyn as they could get.

That was another thing he despised about Almack's. Once a man had terrified all the virgins away, there wasn't a thing left to do.

He watched as Lily moved through the figures of the dance on Archie's arm. She didn't look fatigued to him. On the contrary, she looked quite lively, and Archie looked bloody pleased with himself, like a man who'd just won a fortune at a gaming hell.

Smug bastard.

It hadn't occurred to Robyn that Lily might not forgive him. Everyone always forgave him, for everything.

“She told
me
she didn't intend to dance tonight,” Robyn repeated to no one at all.

“It's not a question of intent. It's one of opportunity. Or at least it was until Archie arrived. Whatever would we do without Archie, Robyn?”

Robyn whirled around to find Eleanor standing behind him. “I was just thinking the same thing. What if Archie weren't here at all?”

He expected Eleanor to scold him, but to his surprise, she laughed. “Ah, well, then I suppose you'd have to dance with Lily, and as you don't seem keen to do so, you owe Archie a debt of gratitude.”

“Who says I don't want to dance with Lily? For God's sake, I asked her to dance as soon as I arrived and she refused me. She said she didn't intend to dance tonight.”

He felt foolish repeating himself a third time, but it seemed imperative someone understand
he
was the wronged party here. Lily had
lied
to him. Surely Ellie could see none of this was his fault?

His sister didn't look at all sympathetic, however. “Perhaps she meant she didn't think she'd be invited to dance. She had good reason to think so. This is her first dance this evening, you know.”

Impossible.
Not tonight. Not in that gown. Not on any night in any gown, but especially not tonight. Not unless every gentleman in the ballroom was blind.

“What's happened to her convent garb?”

Lily had shed yesterday's dark lacy monstrosity in favor of a pale blue silk gown that waved and undulated around her curves. Her creamy bosom rose in perfect swells over the low-cut neckline. Her maid had gathered her hair into sleek waves at the back of her head, leaving her white neck exposed.

Ellie looked puzzled. “Her
what
?”

“Her convent garb.” Robyn clutched at his neck with both hands. “The high-necked gowns. Look rather like lace-encrusted nooses? You know the ones.”

“Oh, that. Charlotte refused to help Lily with Lord Atherton unless Lily left off wearing them in public, and you know what Charlotte's like when she puts her foot down.”

Robyn moistened his lips with a dart of his tongue, his eyes fixed on Lily as she glided through the dance. His throat had gone dry, but he doubted Almack's weak lemonade would quench this particular thirst.

She looked delicious, like a body of cool, refreshing water on a sweltering day. He wanted to sip at her, dive into her, and he'd wager he wasn't the only one. “I don't believe this is her first dance this evening.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I assure you it is. You know how the
ton
loves their gossip, especially malicious gossip. The young ladies are jealous of Lily and only too thrilled to have a reason to snub her. Mrs. Tittleton gives them the perfect excuse to do so.”

“But the gentlemen—”

Ellie cut him off. “The gentlemen are far worse than the ladies. Not one of them has even glanced at Lily this evening, unless you count Lord Atherton. When he asked Charlotte to dance, he looked at Lily as if she were an insect he'd flicked off his coat sleeve.”

Robyn rolled his eyes. Of
course
Atherton had snubbed Lily. Eleanor should have known that would happen. Millicent Chase's offenses against the
ton
were legendary, and now Lily had been caught in a scandal herself. Atherton wasn't the type of man who forgave social offenses.

Or any offenses, really. Robyn scanned the ballroom for the man in question. Ah, there—dancing with Miss McEwan, a Scottish lass with a face like a woolly sheep, who was rumored to have more money than she did freckles.
Come to think on it, Atherton did spend a good deal of time sniffing around the heiresses—

“Nearly every person in this room has spent their day poring over the scandal sheet and calling on their acquaintances to dissect it in detail,” Ellie said. “What did you expect, Robyn?”

He hadn't expected the
ton
to nip and scratch Lily to ribbons, but if he could judge by that spiteful cat Miss Thurston and her friend, they'd done just that—surrounded her like a pack of hissing felines toying with a defenseless mouse. “I expected the
ton
to bow at Almack's altar, as they always do. Lily has the voucher. It should be good enough to appease the gossips.”

He
was
a bit of an expert when it came to scandal and the
ton
, as this most recent incident with Lily was by no means his first, or even his worst, offense against propriety. His scandals never amounted to much in the end. The marriage-minded mamas forgave him every offense because he was single and wealthy. No title, of course, but the Sutherlands were good
ton
. The gentlemen forgave him as well because he was a crack shot and could hold his drink. As for the widows and the bored, aristocratic wives . . .

They were the most forgiving of all. Sometimes they forgave him twice.

A few charming smiles, a touch of contrition, perhaps a dance with a debutante or two, and his sins were washed clean.

“I can't imagine how you got her the voucher to begin with,” Ellie remarked, “especially given the reception she's received tonight.”

Robyn wasn't about to tell his sister the details of
that
transaction. “That bad?”

Ellie shrugged. “Oh, no. Not as terrible as you imagine, I'm sure. No worse than having a tooth pulled, for example.”

Robyn winced. As much as he'd prefer to believe Ellie
exaggerated, when he'd walked through the door tonight and seen Lily's face, he'd felt that unfamiliar twinge of conscience again. She'd looked miserable enough, but also resigned, as if she'd never expected him to show up tonight. As if she'd expected him to disappoint her. Wise of her really, and yet . . .

Damn it, she hadn't any right to look so forlorn, like a lost child.

“I never thought we'd see you at all tonight,” Ellie said, as if she could read his mind. “What made you decide to come?”

Robyn gave her a sullen look. The last thing he wanted to do was hand over credit to Archie, but he'd still be at the Pirate right now, most likely with his head under some barmaid's skirts, if Archie hadn't started to natter on about Lily's bones being picked clean by the
ton
.

“Archie might have said something to make me reconsider,” he muttered.

Eleanor nodded. “Ah. Archie does have a highly developed sense of right and wrong.” She paused. “You do as well, Robyn.”

Robyn snorted. “You're a fond sister, Eleanor, if you can say that with a straight face.”

Ellie didn't laugh. “I
am
a fond sister, but it's perfectly true all the same. You're here, aren't you? If you had no conscience, you wouldn't be, no matter what Archie said.”

Eleanor gave him far too much credit. Yes, he was here, but his reasons were more selfish than noble. He was bored with his usual debaucheries, so he'd come to amuse himself. Besides, the sooner Lily was back in the
ton
's good graces, the sooner he'd be free of her.

He didn't say so, however. He merely raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Bloody inconvenient thing, a conscience.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Robyn, if I believed you as callous as you wish to appear, I
wouldn't
be such a fond sister?”

He didn't have an answer for that, so he remained silent.

“Still,” Ellie continued, as if she'd put a lot of thought into the matter. “One does wonder why, if you're going to do the right thing in the end, you don't just do it to begin with.”

Robyn ran a finger under his cravat. Had the room grown warm? “What does that mean?”

Ellie touched his arm so he'd look at her. “It's easier to believe the worst of yourself, but you don't have to, you know. No one else does. Not everyone is like Father.”

Robyn stared at her, stunned. Is that what Eleanor thought? That he cared one whit for what their bastard of a father had thought of him? That it
mattered
to him his dear papa hadn't expected him to amount to anything more than a selfish rogue? He'd learned at a young age not to give a bloody damn what the old man thought.

He shrugged and retreated behind his grin. “I'm aware of that, Eleanor.”

His sister shook her head. “I don't think you are. Though I suppose it's easier for you if no one ever expects anything of you.”

Robyn's grin stretched so tight across his face, he thought his lips would split. “Including me? That's what you'll say next, isn't it? You're quite the philosopher this evening, Eleanor.”

Good Lord, women were foolish. Ellie had more sense than most, but it seemed even she couldn't resist the lure of the tragically scarred hero. Bloody Byron—it was his fault. He'd brought a plague down on the head of every gentleman in London.

The set ended just then, and both Ellie and Robyn turned to watch Archie escort Lily off the dance floor. They were both breathless from the dance, and Lily was laughing at some witticism of Archie's.

Ellie dug her fingers into Robyn's arm. “The evening isn't over yet, you know.”

No. The evening wasn't over. Not yet. And he wouldn't let Lily slip through his fingers a second time.

“I thank you for the dance, Miss Somerset,” Archie said as he delivered Lily to Robyn's side. He turned to Ellie with a bow. “Will you dance, Eleanor?”

Ellie took the hand he offered with a gracious smile. “Indeed I will.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Robyn as Archie led her to the dance floor. “Do make the most of the rest of your evening, brother.”

Lily hadn't time to catch her breath before Robyn slipped a firm hand under her elbow. “Will you dance with me, Lily?”

She tried to tug out of his grip. “No, thank you. I'm fatigued.”

He gave her his most charming smile. “No, you're not. You've only danced once this evening.”

Lily made an irritated noise in her throat and glared accusingly at Ellie's back. “It's not the
dance
I find fatiguing.”

Robyn gave a negligent shrug. “I'm sure you don't mean to say you find my conversation fatiguing. So tell me, Lily. Are you having an enjoyable evening?”

She pinched her lips together, and when she spoke, her voice was pure ice and broken glass. “Oh, yes. Perfectly enjoyable.”

Robyn's eyes narrowed. He knew very well she'd had a wretched evening, and the sooner she told him so and took him to task for his neglect, the sooner they could put this business behind them. “Ellie seems to think otherwise. Has Almack's somehow fallen short of your expectations?”

Go on. Say it
, he urged her silently.
Say it isn't Almack's that's proved such a disappointment tonight.

“Ellie is mistaken.” She kept her eyes fixed on the dancers.

Oh, she was furious with him, all right. For one moment, before she'd looked away, he'd seen a black ocean tempest
beneath the calm, placid blue eyes. “If you're angry with me, why don't you just say so?”

She spared him a brief glance, then turned back to the dancers. “What's the point? It's over now.”

Robyn clenched his fists. He couldn't bear this smooth, expressionless Lily. With every one of her bland replies, he became more determined to have the truth out of her. He wanted to talk to the
real
Lily—the one who'd slapped him so hard, his ears vibrated. “You're still furious with me, so it isn't bloody over, is it?”

“Robyn!” She frowned at him.

“What? You don't like it when I curse? Then tell me so. You don't like it when I'm rude to your friends? Then say so, Lily.”

She stiffened beside him. “Miss Thurston and Miss Darlington aren't my friends.”

She had every right to be furious with him, and she
would
be, even if it killed him. “No? But they must be. Why else would you be so eager to put an end to my game? It was good sport, baiting those two harpies. I could have kept it up all night.”