Free Lord Devere's Ward by Sue Swift Page B

may expect to see many wonderful sights, but not all of them are part of the circus.”
    Laughing, Kate leaned past Quinn to address Louisa. “Don’t stare, but you’re the focus of some very intent male attention.”
    Quinn turned, recognizing the tall, dark nobleman. “Oh, good Lord! We’re in for it now.” Leaping to his feet, he stood in front of the two girls and turned his back on the stranger.
    “Do move aside, Uncle Quinn. I can’t see.” Louisa tried to peek past him.
    “Devere.” The man addressed Quinn, despite Quinn’s best efforts to cut him. “Please make me known to the ladies in your box.” Hawkes had no eyes for his ward, Quinn realized with a tiny shred of relief, but kept his pewter gaze fixed on Louisa, who stared back. Damn. Louisa’s a beauty, all right .
    Unfortunately, his niece looked particularly pretty this evening in an ice-blue gown with a silver shawl.
    Quinn winced as his family looked over Sir Willoughby Hawkes. His friend was a devilishly attractive gentleman, with a classically tall, dark and handsome appearance. Tonight, Hawkes wore impeccable evening gear. Rakes are successful with the ladies because they are good-looking, Devere growled to himself. That was all right, he supposed, as long as the rake’s prey was not one’s own niece.
    Quinn himself had shared more than one night drinking and wenching with Hawkes, and didn’t like the attention the fellow gave Louisa.
    “Hmph,” Quinn said. “May I make known to you Sir Willoughby Hawkes.” Anna drew in her breath.
    Quinn continued glumly. “Sir Willoughby, m’sister, Lady Anna Penrose.”
    Sir Willoughby bowed over Anna’s outstretched hand. Quinn noticed her reluctance, but his sister was too canny to give the cut direct to one of society’s most popular baronets just prior to her eldest daughter’s introduction.
    “Sir Michael Penrose.” The gentlemen bowed.
    Pen showed no unusual reaction; Quinn knew his brother-in-law took no interest in the gossip that was the daily bread and tea of the ton.
    “My nieces, Louisa and Pauline Penrose, and my cousin, Kay Tyndale.” Quinn performed these introductions hurriedly, with the sincere hope that Sir Willoughby would be unable to separate one damsel from the other.
    The ladies made small, formal curtsies to the stranger as he made his bow. Visibly transfixed by Louisa, Sir Willoughby asked, “May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Tyndale?”
    Kate gurgled with laughter. “You surely may, sir, but I do not believe that you truly wish to do so.” Sir Willoughby flushed a dull red. “I beg your pardon. I would be pleased to call upon all the ladies if allowed.”
    “Certainly,” said Anna stiffly. “Devere knows the direction.”
    Quinn watched as Hawkes bowed again, taking his leave with as much dignity as he could muster while Louisa favored him with her brightest smile. Sir Willoughby looked as though he’d been hit upside the head. Quinn hoped he did not exhibit the same idiotic expression when Kate turned her gaze his way.
    After he had gone, Louisa exploded. “How could you! Kay! That poor man!” She fanned herself vigorously.
    Both Kate and Pauline rocked with laughter. Kate wiped her streaming eyes with a lace handkerchief hastily pulled from her reticule. “Lou, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him tomorrow when he calls…if he calls.”
    “I’m afraid he will.” Anna glared at Quinn.
    “Whatever is the matter, Mamma? I thought Louisa is to encourage eligible connections. Sir Willoughby appeared most eligible, if a bit old,” said Pauline.
    “He’s not old,” flashed Louisa. “Can’t you see, he’s everything that is gentlemanly?”
    Quinn exchanged a concerned glance with his sister.
    Pen said, “I know it’s exciting to have made a conquest so early in the race, my dear. But you might wish to place bets on more than one horse.”

    “Especially when one of those stallions is Hawkes,” murmured Quinn. Louisa glowered at him.
    A stormy