The Lady’s Forbidden Marquess (The Devon Legacy #2)

Chapter One

“That one.” Lady Peregrine—Pere—nodded delicately toward the right side of the crowded London ballroom.

“I’d ask which one, but I have the sinking feeling I know,” Lady Anna murmured, taking a slow sip of champagne. “Your brother is not amused,” she added, eyes sparkling. “And he thinks I’m mad for encouraging you.”

Pere shot her best friend a disbelieving glance. “You’ve never encouraged me once. I rather thought you would. But no, you’ve been the annoying voice of reason—for once.”

Anna shrugged. “I’ve tried to tell him that, but apparently, my amusement at your declaration earlier was taken as brazen praise.”

“Just because you didn’t start muttering expletives like Henley—”

“He was rather shocked,” Anna mused.

Pere blinked. “I’m surprised I’m even allowed out in society. In hindsight, telling him my scheme was a mistake. But I’ve never been one for planning ahead.”

“You are now.”

“This is different.”

“This is—certainly different,” Anna replied. “And I know I’ve said it before—”

“Don’t.” Pere faced her. “I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

“Then listen rather than just hear me.”

“If I can repeat it word for word, will you spare me the lecture? This is why my brother needs to believe you—You’re not encouraging me at all. I swear married life has made you a mother hen, and that used to be Henley’s job. Rather than one, I now have two, and it’s exhausting.”

“Are you finished?”

“No.” Pere’s voice held no heat. “You’re going to say that just because my brilliant—”

“Never once have I called this plan brilliant.”

Pere paused, glaring.

“You said verbatim. I’m just holding you to your promises.”

Pere glanced heavenward. “Apologies. As I was saying—” She gave Anna a daring look, waited for interruption, then continued. “Just because my plan is to reform a rake doesn’t mean I’ll succeed. It could break my heart because I’m innocent … sort of.”

“In all the ways that matter, you are,” Anna said.

Pere waved a hand. “And you and my dearest brother Henley do not want me to get my heart broken or … worse.”

Anna nodded. “There’s been enough talk surrounding your family—”

“You didn’t help that,” Pere teased.

Anna’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “Our gossip was being the love match of last season—”

“Yes and also marrying the brother you weren’t officially courting. Don’t forget that part.”

“There is that small detail…” Anna blushed, her blond hair making the pink of her cheeks more pronounced.

“You married the right brother, though, and Edwin needed time to get his life sorted. I’m glad he took the opportunity to travel … and escape.”

“But that only means Henley is now the one you answer to. He approves the match.”

“I think that’s the only reason he hasn’t locked me up. He knows he has the final say.”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s no perhaps. That’s the fact of it.” Pere rolled her eyes and scanned the ballroom.

Lord Ramsford had moved from his earlier position, but she found him soon enough.

Hair the color of expensive tea leaves, impossibly broad shoulders, never married—a baron with wealth and title enough to be respectable, though he seemed determined to skirt the line.

His reputation clung to him like cigar smoke—pleasant from a distance, choking up close.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned toward her. She held his eyes, smiled, tipped her chin, then glanced down and back up again—shy but interested, she hoped.

Surprise and curiosity flickered across his features. He started toward her, then stopped, his gaze shifting to the left. His smile turned amused, and he changed direction entirely.

“No.”

Pere bristled. “Henley.”

“Out of the question.”

“Hello to you as well. Nice to see you.”

Henley’s dark eyes narrowed. “You’re not starting with him.”

“So, you’ve accepted that this is my plan for the season—”

“That is not—” He broke off, scanning the room as if their conversation were secret.

In a London ballroom, with half of society’s ears listening, secrecy was impossible.

“I’m not accepting anything,” he said, “but he’s not the sort of person—”

“He’s exactly—”

“No.” His tone was clipped. “This is not the time or place.”

“No, it’s not, which is why I told you months ago, before the season began, so you’d be aware.”

“I’m blood—very aware. Painfully so. Not him. You don’t want or need—” He sighed. “What’s wrong with someone respectable? Someone—”

“Boring? Uninterested in me?”

“I’m respectable, and your friend finds me anything but boring.” His cool expression melted into satisfaction.

“Ugh.” Pere wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to know or think about that.” She shuddered, glancing at Anna, who watched with barely restrained amusement. “I blame you.”

Anna glanced at her husband, eyes shining. “Guilty.”

“Before this turns inappropriate—”

“Too late.” Henley took Anna’s hand and kissed it, their gazes threatening to set the ballroom aflame.

“And this is why people still talk about you. You’re anything but boring, Hen. So—convince me another way, because this one isn’t working. Now, if you’ll stop trying to seduce your wife in public, I’d like you to make some introductions.”

“To?” Henley lowered Anna’s hand slowly, still gazing at her.

“At this point anyone. But I have suggestions.”

Henley opened his mouth, then paused, looking past Pere’s shoulder. Frustration flickered before his expression smoothed.

“Lord Ramsford.” Henley nodded.

“My lord, Lady Allendale,” Ramsford said smoothly, “belated congratulations.” His voice was all honey and velvet.

Pere’s pulse jumped. She turned toward him, smiling. His gaze moved from Henley to her, then back, brow raised.

After a pause—no doubt protest—Henley made the introduction.

“Lord Ramsford, my sister, Lady Peregrine.” His gaze warned her.

A warning she decided to ignore.

“A pleasure, Lady Peregrine.”

She offered her hand; he kissed the air above it, warm brown eyes full of approval. “May I request a dance, if you haven’t already been spoken for?”

“I’d be honored, my lord.” She handed him her card. He chose the first dance of the evening—a reel.

“I’ll return shortly, my lady.”

“I’ll look forward to it, my lord.” She glanced down, then up through her lashes, just as she’d practiced.

“As will I.” He bowed and left.

Pere watched him go with a happy sigh. That had gone better than she’d hoped. Perhaps a little flirtation went further than she’d thought. She turned to Henley, who was staring as if she’d grown feathers.

“Who are you?” he asked flatly. “I … need something to drink.” He threw up his hands, looked at Anna, and left.

“That was odd,” Pere murmured.

“I’ve never seen you flirt like that. Impressive. Slightly disconcerting, but…” Anna leaned in, voice low. “Be careful. There’s flirtation, and then there’s invitation.” She paused. “One is safer than the other … because after invitation—” Her gaze darkened. “After invitation comes ruination.”

The word echoed in Pere’s mind.

Ruin.

Across the room, a tall figure in midnight blue paused mid-step, cane tapping once against the parquet.

Lord Hawthorne’s storm-gray eyes narrowed on Ramsford’s retreating back, then flicked to Pere.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He turned away, but not before Pere caught the flicker of something dangerously close to recognition.