Chapter Ten

"E njoying yourself?" Renard asked.

"Hardly." Percy considered the nearest terrace and how likely he'd break his neck from one story. Since Danny had escorted her delightfully exacting sister away—practically dragged by the hair—he'd absconded from no fewer than six matrons and their daughters of ‘virtuous and obedient manner.' As if he were interested in keeping a woman like a dog to come when called and pant at his feet. He wished the mothers shared those morals.

"If anything, Hamish underplayed the boldness of marriageable ladies and their relations."

One such woman had cornered him as he'd exited the privy to inform him she had ‘childbearing hips' and would permit dalliances on his part after the vows were made, discreetly of course.

Fingers curling into fists, Percy couldn't help his outrage. The lady's cheeks had bloomed the color of cooked beets, her hands had shaken at her sides, no doubt put up to such a humiliating conversation by a grasping mother.

If the lady had come of her own volition, he'd have welcomed the brash speech and flirted shamelessly, but no woman here had the confidence to speak as they wished and ask what they wanted without shame. None except one.

"That look spells trouble," Renard said.

Percy smirked. "Coming to a realization is all."

Renard's brow shot up. "Care to share?"

"Not with you."

Renard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Allow me to escort my sister from the premises before you set anything ablaze, please."

"Really, Ren, I'm offended to see you think so little of me."

"On the contrary," Renard said. "If half of what I know you to be capable of is accurate, I merely wish not to be a witness when the inspector comes later for questioning."

"You'd leave to undermine the implication?" Percy placed a hand on his chest. "I'm touched."

"That"—Renard smiled—"and Camille said I may return to the house if I bring my sister along."

Talk about a dog on a leash. The sooner the Duchess of Lux popped out an heir, the sooner Renard may regain a module of dignity.

Men in love remained the poorest of bastards.

"Take heed," Renard warned, nodding over Percy's shoulder. "Another lady approaches, and this one looks determined."

Never mind the dogs; it was the hounds out for the season's latest fox he needed to worry about.

"Run while you can," Percy said.

Renard didn't need to be told twice.

Percy put on his best glare and turned, ready to chew off his arm if need be, to get away from the latest hunter, only to find himself caught in a most welcome trap. "Lady Daniella."

She curtsied. "Your Grace."

"So formal." He smiled, his mood instantly lifting knowing the lady's other side wasn't nearly so. "Come to ask me to dance?" he teased.

"Yes."

He blinked at her serious expression. "A lady asking a gentleman." The woman never ceased to surprise. "Isn't that a social faux pas?"

"I wouldn't think you of all people would mind?"

The knowing look in her eye set his blood pumping. "Indeed." He dropped the elegant tone and reverted to the tongue of his childhood speech. "A rough-n-tumble boy likes a bonnie face with spirit."

"What you call ‘spirit,' my mama would call ill-breeding."

"I've met your papa, remember? The man dotes on you but doesn't spoil," he said. "Your mama would be wrong." He indicated the occupants of the room with a wave of his hand. "If anyone here knew the real circumstances behind my title and fortune, the ton would know the true definition of illy bred."

Something like anger flashed across her face, and Percy felt his insides warm at the prospect the anger was in his defense.

"You must remember, Your Grace, I've met you." Her sudden smile was conspiratorial. "Everyone else would be wrong."

Percy's belly blazed with gratitude and something less respectable. How she looked at him without fear, how she defended his past without knowing but the smallest detail, it made Percy wish to throw her over his shoulder like the barbarian he truly was and take her away from all these sycophants and liars to a place that they could make entirely their own. A place where they could be but a man and a woman. A place where he wasn't the monster lurking in the dark. He'd be everything she believed him to be. Maybe one day he could believe it himself.

"Shilling for your thoughts," she said, smirking.

Friends , he reminded himself, releasing the fantasy. There was no place in existence where they could meet halfway. He could give her pleasure and intellectual company, but nothing more. Give a mule a bath and tie a bow around its neck and it was still an ass.

"I'm afraid I don't dance," he said truthfully, shocking himself. More shocking, he went into detail. "I was deemed a hopeless case by the officers in my regiment and by other coworkers later."

"I'm astounded." Danny gave him a onceover. "You, a man who can leap from trees and cross a room in mere strides, cannot keep count with the music?"

"Afraid not." Percy waited for her reprimand. All gentlemen were expected to know the steps. A lady sitting down during the quadrille was a mark against a man of honor without a partner. One more tally on the books for his lack of breeding. And all men knew the sting of mouth-pie.

"That's marvelous!" Danny clapped her hands. "Positively titillating."

"I beg your pardon?" God, if only his brain would stop replaying the word ‘titillating' in his head.

"You can't dance," she explained. "Here I was under the impression you were perfect. I do believe I like you all the better for it."

Percy would deign to acknowledge how the words ‘I like you' made his heart pound or how a most appalling sound of surprise escaped his throat that sounded like a great swine in the throes of mud bathing.

"Perfect?" Absurd. "I am a liar, a thief, and a murderer—not to mention most lax in my correspondence."

"But you do all those things so infuriatingly well," she said. "Finally, something I can hang over your head."

"You're keeping score?"

"Absolutely." Her grin was radiant. "Isn't that what friends do? Tease each other and keep one another honest?"

And the swine was dispatched and fried into bacon. Somewhere, in the course of pulling a gun on him, a verbal sparring match that left him skewered, a hasty embrace, and a lust-filled encounter with his knife, the woman had indeed come to be a companion, trusted, desired.

They were friends.

Unbelievable.

"The next activity is yours," she said.

"Activity?" The only action he wanted to take right now was a long pull of a stiff drink.

"A ride in Hyde Park? A drive through Vauxhall?"

He grinned. "Pistols at dawn?"

"If you like."

He shook his head, still admiring the burns from his roasted hide. "Your list of items to hang over my head continues. You'll find I don't partake in many gentlemen's sports."

"I see." Her expression said she wasn't disappointed. "What does a rough-n-tumble boy do for amusement, then?"

He chuckled at her digression from aristocratic pomp to country lilt.

It was a bad habit of his, underestimating Lady Daniella. What would scare off most proper ladies didn't cause so much as a blink of trepidation. Which left the unfamiliar reaction of Percy wishing to show her everything.

Leaning close, he inhaled her rich scent of spices and whispered so only she could hear, "We play football."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up with instant curiosity.

Realizing their conversation had garnered more than a few eavesdroppers, Percy merely smiled in response. Let the vultures circle.

Noticing the attention, Danny shuffled towards that same fern he'd found himself acquainted with earlier in the evening and glanced over her shoulder to tell him to follow.

Percy was pulled forward by an invisible force, no more able to refuse her invitation than if a real strap of leather had tethered them together.

Like a leash , Percy thought absently.

But as he made his way to the quiet corner and sat next to Danny, sharing a quiet moment and organizing their next outing, Percy found he didn't mind one bit.

Woof.