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Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his mother led Scarlett around the ballroom, beaming at her as if she were the daughter she never had. At least with her mama and his, she would be relatively safe from the advances of ill-behaved ruffians.

He pushed his way past a dowager countess with a feathered turban, earning a glare, before her eyes widened in realization.

“Your Grace!” she gasped. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Lady Lavinia Hal?—”

“Charmed, My Lady,” he muttered brusquely, before pushing her out of the way.

The older lady looked miffed, which was unfortunate, for Hudson cared for neither her nor her daughter, this Lady Lavender Whoever. He continued to push through the crowd, finding his way to wherever those damned drinks were while keeping an eye on Scarlett the whole time.

And she did not even look at him again. Not since she smiled down at him from the top of the stairs as if she were a goddess granting a mortal her favor.

So, she was angry. He could live with that.

As long as she was all right and well away from him, Hudson decided he could live withanything.

What wasnotacceptable were the droves of young bucks crowding her and her mama, each one eager for an introduction or a dance.

And where washismother? Should she not be overseeing this matchmaking endeavor of hers? Did she not assure Scarlett she would find her a good match? Why, then, was she allowing every fop and dandy in London to approach her?

This ball was devolving intomadness,and they were all caught in the middle of it. The chatter, the clinking of glasses… it was all like being caught in the middle of a battle all over again.

Just where the hell were the drinks?

Hudson stumbled over to a footman, who emerged from one of the doors with a tray full of glasses, and grabbed one. He was just about to throw his head back and down the fiery liquid when he sawit.

Lady Southford was leading Scarlett to a familiar man with pale blond hair, cold blue eyes, and an even colder smile.

The Marquess of Bloody Colton.

Hell no.

The Dowager Duchess was right—there was no better beauty secret than a good night’s sleep. Or two.

“My Lady, you are as radiant as ever.”

Chills—and not the good kind—ran down her spine when she heard that familiar voice.

Him? What is he doing here?

“I hope you would not object to his being here,” her mama whispered to her.

Object? Scarlett would be fortunate if she managed to not unceremoniously eject the scones and tea she had consumed before preparing for the ball.

“Lord Colton.” She smiled less than enthusiastically. “A pleasure to see you tonight, My Lord.”

Her mama flashed an overly bright smile. “Come now. You two have known each other since you were children. There is no need to act like strangers!”

“He is Alex’s friend, not mine,” Scarlett muttered.

Her mama shot her a stern look, a subtle rebuke beneath a polite smile, before turning back to the Marquess with a wide smile. “You know how Scarlett can be, My Lord,” she spoke in a tone that grated on Scarlett’s nerves. “It was nothing more than a misunderstanding—a mere ploy to confirm your interest.”

Scarlett had never heard anything more absurd.

Lord Colton flashed a smile, practiced and deliberate. “Think nothing of it, Lady Southford. I can forgive Lady Scarlett almost anything.”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “Almost anything?”

“As long as it is within reason, of course.”