Page 67 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Oliver—” she began.

“Oliver, thank heavens you’re here!” Celia exclaimed. She was at the top of the steps, an anxious expression on her face. “You have to go rescue Gabe before he does something foolish. Chetwin is here and they’re near to coming to blows over that stupid race. They’re in the card room.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I can’t believe Foxmoor invited that idiot.” He hurried off.

As soon as Oliver disappeared into the house, Celia and Minerva tugged Maria inside, grinning. “Hurry, before he gets back.”

They were met by Lord Gabriel and Lord Jarret, who strode up with several young men in tow.

“Lord Gabriel!” Maria exclaimed. “Your brother—”

“Yes, I know. And while he’s gone . . .”

He and Jarret introduced the other gentlemen to her. By the time Oliver returned, she’d promised dances to all of his brothers’ friends.

Oliver’s frown deepened as he saw Gabe standing there, blithe as could be. He raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Was running me off in search of Chetwin your idea of a joke?”

“I got confused, that’s all,” Celia said brightly. “We’ve been introducing Maria around while you were gone.”

“Thank you for making her feel welcome,” he said, though he eyed the other gentlemen warily. Then he held out his arm to Maria. “Come, my dear, let me introduce you to our hosts, so we can dance.”

“Sorry, old chap,” Gabe said, stepping between them, “but she’s already promised the first dance to me.”

Oliver’s gaze swung to her, dark and accusing. “You didn’t.”

She started to feel guilty, then caught herself. What did she have to feel guilty about?Hewas the one who’d spent last night at a brothel.Hewas the one who’d been so caught up in his battle with his grandmother that he hadn’t even bothered to ask her for a dance. He’d just assumed that she would give him one, because he’d “paid” for her services. Well, a pox on him.

Meeting his gaze steadily, she thrust out her chin. “You never mentioned it. I had no idea you wanted the first dance.”

A black scowl formed on his brow. “Then I get the second dance.”

“I’m afraid that one’s mine,” Jarret put in. “Indeed, I believe Miss Butterfield is engaged for every single dance. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

A male swell of assent turned Oliver’s scowl into a glower. “The hell she is.”

Mrs. Plumtree slapped his arm with her fan. “Really, Oliver, you must watch your language around young ladies. This is a respectable gathering.”

“I don’t care. She’smyfi—” He caught himself just in time. “Maria came with me. I deserve at least one dance.”

“Then perhaps you should have asked for one before she became otherwise engaged,” Celia said with a mischievous smile.

Gabe held out his arm to Maria. “Come, Miss Butterfield,” he said in an echo of his older brother’s words, “I’ll introduce you to our hosts.” As she took his arm, he grinned at Oliver. “You’d better start hoping you draw her name in the lottery for the supper waltz, old boy. Because that’s the only way you’re going to get to dance with her tonight.”

Chapter Eighteen

“I’m going to kill him,” Oliver muttered under his breath as he watched his brother walk off with Maria. Jarret and the other gentlemen also headed for the ballroom with Celia and Minerva in tow, leaving him standing in the foyer with Gran.

“She is an American,” Gran said in a cool voice. “They do not know how to behave themselves anywhere except in some colonial barn. She doesn’t realize she ought to have held a dance for you. Although I must say, you did take your time about asking her for one.”

He glared at her. “I’m her fiancé.”

“Well, you certainly have not been acting like it. Considering where you went last night . . .”

Heat rose in his cheeks. “Damn it, Gran—”

She slapped his arm with her fan again. “I do not know where you learned these horrible manners.”

“Would you stop that?” He grabbed her fan. “I swear,sometimes you and Maria are enough to make a man run screaming into the night.”