Free Brenda Hiatt by Scandalous Virtue Page A

Blast it, did Peter want him leg-shackled for life? His own enthusiasm for the plan was waning rapidly.
    Lord and Lady Plumfield had abandoned their posts at the head of the stairs by the time Jack and Peter returned, so at least they were spared immediate comment upon their odd schedule for the evening. Harry, however, had arrived in their absence, and spotted them at once.
    He accosted them reproachfully when they werebut a few steps inside the ballroom. “Devil take it, Jack, I thought you meant to come here first. I’ve been cooling my heels here for half an hour, at least.”
    “It appears you’ve been well rewarded for your time.” Jack nodded toward the glass of fine champagne in Harry’s hand. “Do you never purchase your own spirits?” The cut was beneath him, he knew, but the evening’s fruitless hunt had set his temper on edge.
    Harry appeared cheered by his remark, however. “Not if I can avoid it, old boy!” He drained the glass that had been recalled to his notice and signaled a passing waiter for another. “Oh, your quarry is in the dance at the moment, I believe.”
    Jack experienced an inexplicable lightening of his mood. “Lady Haughton is finally here, then?”
    “Oh, so you were here before? Wench is leading you a merry chase, is she? Quite an active social life for a widow just out of her weeds.”
    Jack’s mood became just a shade less light.
    Harry now turned to his companion. “You were right, by the bye, Pete. She is a taking little thing. Begin to understand Jack’s determination, though given her current course, I’m not sure he need go so far as parson’s mousetrap. Offer her a slip on the shoulder first, Jack,” he advised his friend kindly.
    Though he glared at Harry, Jack couldn’t keep his lips from twitching slightly. “You forget the point, Harry. The idea is for Lady Haughton to repair my reputation, not for me to ruin hers.” He couldn’t deny, however, that the notion held more than a modicum of appeal.
    “You’d best hurry, then.” Harry indicated the near lefthand side of the ballroom with a motion of his head.
    Jack followed his glance and then stiffened, an odd mixture of vexation and elation welling up inside him. There stood the object of his quest, resplendent in deep rose silk. Flowers of the same shade adorned her chestnut curls, which she wore loose to her bare shoulders. Though her gown was cut no lower than most of the others there, its contrast to the high-necked black dress he’d last seen her wearing made it seem outrageously seductive.
    Momentarily rendered speechless by the vision before him, Jack merely observed—only to realize abruptly that Lady Haughton was surrounded by no fewer than six gentlemen, with all of whom she seemed to be conducting a flirtation! Excusing himself from his companions, he strode toward her.
     
    Nessa was certain she had never enjoyed an evening so much in her life. The Westercotts’ soiree on Saturday had been but a trial run. In fact, she had dared only two dances there, so severe was Prudence’s disapproval—and so rusty were her skills. Though her parents had permitted their daughters to learn all of the approved dances, they’d been afforded very few opportunities to practice in public—and after her marriage, Nessa had danced only once or twice, at small country gatherings.
    Tonight, she had a mind to throw caution to the winds. Winning at whist while tentatively flirting with Mr. Galloway had been a highly entertaining novelty,and now she had just concluded her third dance, with the promise of several more to come.
    And such attentive young men! She turned a blind eye to Prudence’s reproachful looks from across the room, just as she had earlier turned a deaf ear to her sister’s strictures on which gentlemen were respectable enough to be worthy of her notice. Respectability was the very last thing she was seeking tonight!
    “Why, what a charming thing to say, Sir Lawrence,” she responded to a