Chapter Two
“I feel ridiculous in this noose,” Iain complained as Hodge tied Iain’s cravat with a skill Iain wondered at. “These breeches are so thin it’s as if my bollocks are just hanging out in the night air. And these shoes—”
“Dancing slippers,” Hodge corrected.
“And how do you know that?”
“I may have spent some time as a valet before the sea called me away.”
“I don’t even know how to dance.” Iain moved his foot in the silly slipper he didn’t find suitable even if he were able.
“I’ve seen you dance. Once in Tortuga, and in Bermuda.” Hodge’s lips pulled up with the memory and Iain could imagine he’d made a lasting memory with his clomping about.
“It’s not so difficult to swing a lass around and make her laugh. However, I don’t know the actual steps a lady will expect from a proper lord.”
“I should shave off these whiskers,” Hodge complained with his lips pulled to the side in distaste. Lips covered in their own whiskers.
“You’ll not touch my beard. It’s bad enough what you’ve done to my hair.” Iain’s long, black hair had been shorn to just below his chin and was tied back so tightly it was giving Iain a pain in his temples.
“Stop your whining. Do you want to find a rich bride or no?”
Iain wanted to lash out with a very loud, “No.” But Hodge knew well that this endeavor was not about what Iain wanted.
He needed only to entice a lady with a large dowry by his charm and title to wed him, then he could settle her in his estate with his tenants and staff and jump on his ship to get back to his life.
And if the lass had enough blunt to fund his next trip, even better. At least he’d get something from it.
Somehow Hodge had managed to scrounge up an invitation to a proper ball. And had spent most of the afternoon schooling Iain on which ladies did and did not have the dowries he needed.
Iain’s displeasure wasn’t simply from the tightness of his shoes, but for the predatory nature of his plans.
Out there was an innocent woman who would smile and swoon at his pleasant words and quick wit.
He’d been told his bright green eyes were enticing a few times which would help his cause.
A plan to trick a woman into marrying him.
What kind of a man wouldn’t dislike having to stoop to something so villainous?
He only managed to force himself out of the fancy townhouse he’d recently acquired with the assurance that the woman would not come to any harm.
He would see her taken care of and would leave her to her own interests when he returned to his ship.
“Luck be with you,” Hodges said as he closed Iain into the carriage.
“I’m going to need more than luck,” he muttered as the carriage pulled away toward certain doom.
“This is a horrible idea,” Maisy complained as she took another large swig of wine while standing at the wall in the Thedstaff ballroom.
“Getting intoxicated at a function is the perfect way to blemish your reputation without falling into all out ruination,” Caroline assured. “Here, your glass is empty. Take mine.”
Maisy frowned while exchanging glasses with her friend.
“How much do I need to drink? I will soon need to go to the retiring room to relieve myself of all this liquid.”
“You’ll know when you’ve had enough. I think.” That last part was said quieter, making Maisy wonder if she should have gone along with Caro’s plan at all.
Soon enough, though, Maisy had an answer to her question. It seemed four glasses of wine was enough to make it difficult for Maisy to walk in the direction she tried to go. It also made the act of stumbling quite hilarious.
“Good. You are well and truly in your cups now. You just need to walk out onto the dance floor and attempt to dance. Everyone will see and be talking about you. Mrs. Dove-Lyon will have to help you then.”
“Wif who shallp I dance?” Maisy asked, thinking that didn’t sound quite right.
“With no one. Just dance as you did when you were a girl in the country.”
“I neber danced in the country.”
Caroline gave her a tiny shove toward the dance floor and Maisy did her best to concentrate so her feet—which felt much too large for her body—took her in the direction Caroline had pointed.
Maisy swayed and then picked her head up from staring at her feet. But raising her head while a dozen couples spun around her made her dizzy and a moment after she felt dizzy, she felt something else. Something awful.
“Peez exhume me,” she slurred while turning in the opposite direction to run for the door.
She would have made it safely outside, if not for the giant standing in the Thedstaff lobby.
She ran right into him, looked up and up again into eyes the color of the grass in Cornwall.
His hands came to her arms to steady her.
“What’s wrong with you?” he said a moment before she bent and vomited all over his satin breeches and the largest dancing slippers she’d ever seen.
Iain frowned down at the mess the girl made of his silly clothes. The woman looked quite curdled as she swayed.
“Oh dear, look at my poor friend. She is ill,” a tiny, blonde woman called out as Iain held the green-tinged lass away from him before she retched yet again.
A group of older ladies gathered round, frowning and waving their fans fiercely in front of their faces.
At the moment, Iain would have been happy to have a fan himself.
The woman reeked of wine and sick. Something he’d smelled more than his share of when his crew were overzealous at port.
Still, he’d never seen a dainty woman heaving like a sailor before.
She looked up at him with watery, miserable, golden eyes.
“I’m so berry sorry.” She squinted. “Your face has hair on it, and you have eyes.”
He couldn’t help but laugh once at her pitiful expression. The woman was going to be in a world of hurt before she was better. And even then, this crowd that had grown by the second, would likely not let her forget her error very soon.
Her dark hair, which turned auburn in the light of the chandeliers overhead, had escaped her coiffure. Sweat was beading on her lip and forehead.
“You are right foxed, lass. Someone needs to get you home to your bed and give you plenty of water,” he ordered as if she were one of his crewmen.
The only response was a moan and the petite blonde woman came forward and tutted.
“Maisy, I told you that was much too much.” It wasn’t a scold as much as a pointing out of fact, and called out loudly toward the bystanders.
But then she turned back to the wilting violet still leaning on his arms and frowned.
“I guess I will have to get you home.” She looked up at Iain.
“Since you are already spoiled, perhaps you can assist me in getting her into the carriage.”
The woman wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t very well go into the house smelling of a back alley in Seven Dials.
His plans would need to be put aside for the night.
While he wasn’t pleased to be shoving an over-ripe woman into a carriage, he couldn’t say he was sad to have a reprieve for the evening.
Dancing and luring a rich debutante to her doom didn’t set well with him.
With the toasted crumpet laid out on the bench, Iain closed the door and turned for home and some clean clothes.
“What’s all this?” Hodge said when the footman let Iain in the door. Something he found annoying. He could open his own blasted doors. But he’d not fire the man.
“I didn’t even get into the ballroom before someone emptied their stomach on my silly shoes.”
“What kind of ball was this? I thought the nobles were to be a sophisticated lot.” Hodge shook his head.
“Mayhap, but no one is so high and mighty once they’ve fallen too deeply into their cups.”
“We’ll have to show these young lads how Scots drink.”
“It wasn’t a lad. It was a lady.”
“A lady? Foxed? I’ve never seen such a thing before.” Hodge raised his brow in that skeptical way he did when someone was trying to sell him a tale.
Iain hadn’t ever seen such a spectacle either, but then he didn’t spend much of his time in the company of proper ladies. The women he knew could drink a man under the table, Scot, or no.
With his evening plans ruined, he sought his very large and comfortable bed.
He had to admit there were some things he enjoyed about this “lord” business.
Like having a hearty breakfast waiting for him the next morning and the fine horse brought round to him so he could go riding in the park.
But he’d never be part of this world. He didn’t belong here.
He’d find the money he needed and take sail, leaving all of this behind.