Free Never Love a Scoundrel by Darcy Burke Page A

smile. “‘Locke,’ is it?”
    Ethan cocked a smile in return and then bowed. Jason stifled the urge to kick him to the ground.
    Lydia stood on tiptoe and whispered toward Jason’s ear, “We should move off the dance floor.”
    All of Society was watching and wondering if he would suffer a mental break in front of their very eyes. Several were probably even hoping for it. He kept his features schooled into a pleasant mask. “Yes, we should.”
    “Lockwood, perhaps you’d care to take refreshment with me?” Ethan asked.
    Jason would rather have dined with the devil, but since he’d come here to determine Ethan’s motives, he went along. “I should be delighted.” Had anyone noticed if that last word sounded strangled?
    Lady Lydia steered him toward a doorway. “The refreshments are through here.”
    The people surrounding them still stared, but the music began again.
    He glanced down at Lady Lydia’s blond head. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be a part of this. “You should go,” he said quietly.
    Her answering look was full of concern. “I’m not leaving you with him.”
    She meant to protect him? Why? Given his experience, he was generally suspicious of people, particularly when they offered kindness. He couldn’t begin to fathom why this young woman would want to come to his aid.
    They moved into a room set with tables of food and drink. A handful of Society’s finest were inside. Every single one of them turned to gape.
    Ethan came around Jason’s side—his left side. His gaze flicked to the scar he’d caused. “I assume you’d like something stronger than ratafia?”
    “I’ll drink whatever you’re drinking,” Jason said, hoping against hope a footman would come by with a large bottle of whisky.
    Ethan inclined his head and a footman brought champagne. It would suffice.
    After first presenting Lady Lydia with a glass, Ethan offered one to Jason. Their eyes met and Jason wrapped his fingers tightly around the stem of the glass as he accepted it. Ethan’s eyes were like his, though the color was a bit lighter, more like their father’s. In fact, looking at Ethan in this environment, in those clothes . . . he looked so much like their father as to be uncanny. No one would doubt their kinship. At least no one with decent eyesight.
    Jason moved closer and kept his voice low. This was not the best place to conduct this conversation, but he simply couldn’t contain himself. “What are you doing here?”
    Ethan blinked, trying his best to look innocent, but Jason wasn’t fooled. “Sharing a glass of champagne with my brother. Surely there’s nothing odd to question about that.”
    Ethan was provoking him as he always did. Jason worked to keep his temper in check. This man had monopolized their father’s time and affection, his very existence had contributed to Jason’s mother’s mental collapse, he’d demanded things that didn’t rightfully belong to him, and he’d caused Jason to lose whatever tentative standing he’d had in Society following Mother’s confinement. He’d ruined Jason’s life.
    He smiled blandly and sought to aggravate Ethan in return. “And that’s the difference between you and me. I find everything odd about it. We may be blood related, but our relationship is not brotherly.”
    Ethan frowned slightly. “This isn’t going the way I’d hoped. How disappointing.”
    He couldn’t be serious. They’d practically killed each other seven years ago and now he wanted to be bosom brothers?
    Contemplating what to say, Jason sipped his champagne and nearly choked as the false-sweet tones of Margaret Rutherford snaked through the room. “Lydia, dear, aren’t you going to introduce me?”
    Jason swung around so quickly that his elbow caught Lydia’s shoulder and knocked her off balance. She grasped at his arm with her free hand. He reached for her waist and held her upright. Champagne sloshed from both of their glasses and a large amount splattered Jason’s