Page 7 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

He only needed to find a man or woman that he’d already been introduced to so he could find an entrée to other introductions.

The viscount and viscountess were busy with their guests.

His eyes scanned the rooms as he made his way to the ballroom.

There were stares, as always. People wondering at his existence among such rarified company.

He ignored them all and stood at the edge of the ballroom with aimless roving eyes until a flash of color caught his attention.

Robin blue shot silk with hints of orange, elegant styling, minimal lace, brown skin…

his eyes flicked up to the woman’s face and his shoulders relaxed a little.

Elodia Hawthorne.

It was the strangest thing how his eyes always managed to find her in a crowded room.

The pretty, warm hearted, clear headed, brave girl he’d met years before had grown into an elegant, accomplished and beautiful woman from the shape of her eyes to the curve of her full lips.

These days she was always the picture of feminine elegance, especially on nights like tonight in her kid skin gloves, with diamonds twinkling at her wrists and earlobes.

Her strong slender shoulders and graceful neck were bare, her brown skin gleaming under the candlelight.

There was nothing more entertaining than a conversation with her.

She had the most mischievous and designing mind, the most welcoming smile and an alluring scent he was almost ashamed to have noticed.

Like her, it was bold and unapologetically unique; sandalwood, ginger and cloves.

No perfunctory florals for Miss Elodia Hawthorne.

With such inducement, he told himself, it was a perfectly natural thing for him to seek out her company whenever it was available.

But tonight she looked nervous for some reason.

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and she kept fiddling with her bracelet and glancing about the room nervously.

It was, after all, the first time since she’d been out that she was in a ballroom without her friends.

Lord and Lady Starkley had yet to return from abroad, and A’wei and Basil had opted against attending this ball.

Without her faithful companions, Elodia seemed smaller, more vulnerable.

Where was her father? There was no way the Viscount Melbroke had allowed her to attend such an event on her own.

She was a feisty little thing to be sure, but she was still a well-bred young lady, and her brown skin stood out among the crowd of white faces.

Even at an event such as this one, there would be scoundrels looking to seduce an heiress such as her.

Richard made one more sweep of the ballroom for a sign of her father, then started towards her.

She noticed him halfway and her face lit up, as she waved, heedless of the glances sent her way.

She always had a smile for him. Not a polite or shy one, an exuberant and entirely undignified one that never failed to pull one out of him in return.

Adorable.

“Hello you,” he greeted her with a slight bow, and she smiled brightly at him, dipping into a curtsey. She always did.

“Hello to you,” she replied. He was gratified to notice that she had stopped fiddling with her bracelet.

“Missing your posse?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him, “What gave me away?”

“You have the look of a cornered fawn. All twitches and wide eyes.”

She looked away, her lips twitching. “How flattering. Have you been making a study of me?”

“Only a little.” She pursed her lips but the corner of her mouth kept twitching against a smile. He wondered how long it would take for her to give in.

“How long have you been here?” she finally asked, meeting his eyes.

“An hour or so.”

“And have you been playing the wallflower the whole time?” she asked.

Cheeky little thing. “I beg your pardon. I’ve been surveying my options. Like a falcon.”

She hummed in disbelief, shaking her head. “So you say. How will you ever find a wife this way?”

He glanced down at her. The naughty little sprite knew something. “You’ve been speaking with my sister?”

She smiled. “And her husband.”

“Tedious little busy bodies,” he grumbled.

“You’d better marry soon then, so they leave you well enough alone.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It is a thought, isn’t it? But they’ll take my nephew and niece with them.”

“That is true. Perhaps it’s not worth it.”

“At least I’ll have you for company. Speaking of, how is your dance card looking this evening?” She was a good dancer, too good for the number of offers that came her way.

“Oh, it is alright.” She looked away from him with a tight smile.

“Room for one more?”

She seemed uncertain for a moment, but then she unhooked her dance card and handed it to him.

He opened his mouth to say she could have done it herself, but in the end, he decided against it.

The music for the next dance began and he saw she was free for it.

She was free for most of her dances. Was this what she was nervous about?

Was she embarrassed about her lack of prospects?

He knew what it was like to feel like the only unwanted person in the room.

He refused to allow her to feel that hollow any further.

She only needed one partner and the others would follow.

Deftly, he fastened the thin golden bracelet holding her dance card around her gloved wrist.

“I’m taking you for this one,” he announced.

She blinked up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Maybe he could have worded that differently. “Are you dancing this evening?”

“Well, yes—”

“Then come along, Miss Elodia.” He offered his arm and she took it with a bewildered smile. They made it to the dance floor just in time for the waltz to begin. “Am I correct in thinking that you are here with your father?”

“Yes, and Miss Walsh. You remember her from Lady Starkley’s wedding?”

“I remember her from all Ada’s years of education at Miss Pollitt’s.”

“Oh yes, that is true. I wasn’t sure how familiar you were with her.”

“With your antics? We are practically best friends.”

She frowned in confusion. “I never knew you were there to see her so often.”

“I will refer you to my previous statement.”

“What I mean is, we never heard of you being there.”

“I made sure of that. Ada was a target as much as the rest of you. Every time there was a fight or a dispute and you all ended up in trouble, the parents were called to plead the case as to why you all should be allowed to remain at school with your racial betters.”

“Was my father always there?”

“Oh yes. He and I tended to be of a mind more or less when it came to all of you. I found it ridiculous that you all should be expected to roll over and show your belly because it was ladylike. No one ever seemed of a mind to remind those bullies that good manners were free and incidentally, also a sign of good breeding.”

“What did they used to say?”

“I reminded them that fighting against injustice was a most English virtue. If their daughters couldn’t handle a fight then they shouldn’t be in the habit of starting them. I believe at one time I invoked Charles the First and his grandson James.”

“My goodness.”

“Miss Walsh, as she is now, always seemed to appreciate my candor on the subject.”

“Your defense of us served us well, it seems.”

“The evidence does lean that way. What about you, are you finally of a mind to take a husband?” he asked.

Her eyes widened slightly. “I beg your pardon, sir. Women do not take husbands. As a rule. Men take wives.”

As if she would ever consider being ‘taken’ by anyone. “If I was speaking to anyone else, I would agree with that sentiment.”

“I am not quite that shameless,” she replied with a sniff worthy of her Aunt Theo.

“There is no shame in honesty, Miss Hawthorne.” He led her in a turn, “Any man would be lucky to be claimed by you.”

If he didn’t know her well enough, he’d assume she was blushing based on the way she refused to meet his gaze. “I don’t think you would wish to be ‘taken’ as you say,” she finally said.

“Depends on the woman,” he replied with a grin as the dance came to an end. He glanced around and saw that her father and Miss Walsh had finally entered the room. “I’ll return you to your father now.”

“What?” She turned around. “Oh.”

He offered his arm again and she took it, allowing him to lead her back to her party.

“Good evening, Mr. Thornfield,” Lord Melbroke greeted him.

“Good evening, my lord. Good evening, Miss Walsh.” He gave them both a bow. “I am returning your pride and joy to you.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the viscount glanced at her.

“Miss Hawthorne was gracious enough to gift me a dance this evening,” Richard clarified.

“Thank you,” Elodia said with her characteristically sunny smile.

“Not at all, it was my pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He bowed to her, kissed the back of her hand and walked back to his spot on the other side of the ballroom.

He watched as two other young gentlemen approached her for dances.

They were too green by half, likely careless and opportunistic, but the more dances she took, the more she’d be offered.

“She’s pretty,” a husky familiar voice came from his side. Then the scent of orange blossoms. Rachel.

He turned in her direction and made a show of bowing to his mistress of nearly a decade.

She was an attractive woman with a statuesque build, at once slender and strong with golden hair, dark eyes and even darker tastes.

She’d married young and unhappily from all accounts, but her husband had done her the courtesy of dying early, leaving her with a generous provision and a lifetime to enjoy it with.

She had a son, although how close she was to that son, he couldn’t say.

“Lady Tremaine,” he greeted her, turning his attention back to the dance floor.

She’d wrapped her curvaceous body in silver silk.

It was certainly elegant and sophisticated, but it lacked something.

Or perhaps it wasn’t eliciting the same response for some reason.

He wasn’t sure why; she had been just fine a week or so ago when he visited her.

“Mr. Thornfield. I didn’t know you were attending tonight.”

“Nor did I in truth.”

“You should have told me,” she murmured behind her fan.

“It was a bit last minute,” he replied, wondering if he was imagining the pressure sliding up his back. Was that her hand? There was a time it would have given him a dark thrill knowing she couldn’t wait. Knowing that this was going on right under the ton’s snobbish noses.

“I suppose I must reacquaint myself with your circle. You’ve been widening your horizons lately.”

There was a strange edge to her voice. “Have I?”

“Your sister married the second son of Lord Sterling, did she not?”

“She did.” Although the particulars were not common knowledge. The last thing he needed was his name in the papers associated with scandal, financial or otherwise. He had no interest in being a cautionary tale.

“And that policeman friend of yours is now a Baron, heaven forbid.”

Close enough. “So he is.”

“And now you are dancing with Melbroke’s… what is she exactly?”

“His daughter,” he replied even as his hand curled into a fist at his side.

Everything inside him was rejecting the idea of allowing this woman to speak disparagingly of Elodia.

She floated and spun, her skill and grace evident as she smiled at her partners and fellow guests, although never as brightly as when she looked at him.

Rachel was beautiful, but hard, empty and solely focused on her own interests and feelings.

He couldn’t blame her for it, but in the end, she was no different from any other woman of the ton.

Self-interested and eager to use what little power they wielded to subjugate others.

But Elodia, she was like a rare thousand-year jade, a pristine, perfect black pearl, exquisitely vibrant and dynamic, like an embroidered Su tapestry made from a million stitches of ten thousand single strands of silk.

“I’m not sure she will give you the entrée you are looking for.”

“Mmmm,” he didn’t have a polite response to that statement.

Was she more annoying as well? It was odd; there was nothing surprising or unusual about her statement.

She had always been that way, her bigotry and insolence so general and flippant that it was hard to take any insult personally.

It was one of the main reasons he would never have considered her for a wife.

Her opinion of people outside her race was, at best, dismissive and demeaning.

At worst, it bordered on vile and almost violent.

“How on earth did that black sheep wander into the fold?”

He clenched his jaw against a response. It was a defect in her he’d always been aware of, so he’d been careful to make sure no one in his circle knew of his arrangement with her.

Basil would never have let him live it down but Leo might have seen it as pitiful.

Neither of them had his problem. Basil could swing a cat and find a dalliance whenever he wanted.

Leo was equally dehumanized by the ton, but his sexual prowess or masculinity were never in question. “The old way, I imagine.”

“What way is that?”

“Nonconformity. Someone clearly broke ranks. Not that a lady such as yourself would know anything about that, of course.” His tone was only slightly mocking. She’d ride anything so long as she could leave it where she found it.

“I keep my divergence under strict regulation,” she replied.

“I’m glad to hear it.” It was one of the few things that made them a good match.

She didn’t see Richard any differently than any person she looked down upon; he was just her favorite bed partner.

Perhaps it was a point of pride for him.

Most people in the ton didn’t think he had much in him, but at least one person knew differently.

For Richard, that made her the most convenient option.

Easy to pick up and easy to put down. No chance of things getting complicated or indiscreet.

“Is tonight a good one for some divergence?”

Across the ballroom, Elodia stepped out onto the dance floor for a third time. She met his eyes and smiled. He returned the gesture but his stomach churned. He didn’t like her watching him when Rachel had her hands on him. It made him feel sordid. He needed to leave.

“Perhaps,” he replied, giving Rachel a long side glance. The invitation had been sent and the message was received.