“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not, and I can guarantee your obsession will just get worse. This kind of attraction has bubbled up with her on a thousand occasions in the past, but it never leads anywhere. We have to nip it in the bud or you’ll simply wind up angry and disappointed.”
“I don’t want to do any nipping.”
“I have to persuade you then, and I shall demand you listen to me.”
Falcon was a sly character. He had Luke out the door and down the hall before Luke realized they’d left Libby’s bedchamber.
They headed down the stairs, and when they would have turned toward the party, they walked in the other direction, ultimately shutting themselves in a deserted parlor where there was a fully-stocked liquor tray. Falcon poured them both a tall brandy, and they clinked the rims together.
“To Libby,” Falcon said, “and to you for being smart enough to capture her notice.”
“I wouldn’t call it smart. I’d call it deranged.”
“I’m serious. Men constantly fall in love with her, but she never reciprocates their interest.”
“Why not?”
Falcon shrugged. “She thinks they’re fools, cheats, and wastrels.”
“She’s generally correct.”
“Which type are you?”
“I’m not a wastrel, but with how I’ve been ensnared, I suppose I’m a fool.”
“And you’re a cheat too, aren’t you?”
Luke scowled. “Why would you assume that?”
“You’re here to propose to Lady Penny, but I just caught you rolling around on a mattress with my cousin. That seems a tad duplicitous to me.”
Luke’s cheeks flushed with chagrin. “As I’ve explained to Libby, over and over again, I’m not engaged yet. I’m a bachelor who is capable of choosing my companions and how I carry on with them.”
“Would you like to keep Libby for your very own?”
Luke had just taken a swallow of his liquor, and it went down wrong. He coughed and pounded a fist on his chest. He’d never had such a blunt question posed, and Falcon was so young. It was disconcerting to have him mention such a salacious topic.
“Meaning what?” Luke asked. “I’m not about to marry her—if that’s what you’re hoping. I don’t care if you stumbled on us in a compromising situation. Matrimony is not in the cards, so don’t presume you can coerce me into that conclusion.”
“I am her only male relative, and I have to protect her.”
“Is this where you solicit money from me?” Luke shook his head with disgust. “I’ve been wondering if you two had a scheme brewing.”
“Libby wouldn’t pursue dishonorable conduct, but I would.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“You’d like her to be your mistress, yes?”
“Well . . . yes. I would like that, and I’ve already suggested it.”
“I’m betting she was vehemently opposed to the idea.”
“Yes, she was.”
“I could change her mind.” Falcon sounded as if he was boasting.
“How?”
“We’re close, and she heeds my advice. I could convince her.”
“I doubt it.”
“I could have Fish work on her too. We could claim that an affair with you is exactly what she needs to truly be happy.”
Luke studied him keenly, his skepticism intense. “What would you get out of it? I’m certain you don’t have a benevolent bone in your body. There must be something you’d want in return.”
“I agree that you’d have to make it worth my while, but I haven’t decided on what my price might be. How about if I reflect on it for a few days? Once the party ends, we’ll come to terms.”
Luke snorted with annoyance. “I don’t trust you, Falcon, and I have no desire to come to terms with you about Libby or any other subject.”
The arrogant oaf grinned. “If you don’t enlist my help, how will you win her?”
“It’s entirely possible that you have overstated my level of fascination. Perhaps I’m not as desperate as you imagine.”
“Aren’t you?” Falcon laughed, then strolled out.
Luke downed the rest of his liquor, feeling dazed and bewildered.
What was he doing? What was he thinking?
He was as British as the next man, and he understood that blood dictated character. The bluer the blood, the more stellar the character. What were Libby’s antecedents? She refused to confess them, but she’d been raised by her Uncle Harry who’d imprinted his own dubious traits.
It was obvious she was a bad risk. He only had to consider Mr. Falcon to realize it, so why tumble into an affair with her? Why squander a single farthing on her? There were such dangers involved in a risqué liaison. Why imperil himself and his reputation?
But what if he was mistaken and it all worked out perfectly? What if Falcon could persuade her to give Luke what he sought? Why not shoot for that outcome? Why not plan on it?
What if he could spend years with Libby Carstairs snuggled by his side? What sort of person would he be when she was through with him?
A much better one; he was sure of it.
In the meantime, he had a probable fiancée in the front parlor whom he had to assess and charm. He poured another brandy and drank it down, requiring some liquid courage in order to face Penny and her father, but needing it too in order to face Libby when he bumped into her in the crowd of guests.
Simon Falcon would be hovering too, observing Luke and snickering gleefully in the corners. He’d be aware that Luke was in abject misery—with Libby so close, yet so far away.
It was going to be a very long night.
“I wasn’t impressed.”
“Why not?”
“It was too melodramatic for me.”
Charles frowned at Millicent. They were in the front parlor, the festivities winding down. The younger people would likely revel until dawn, but he was exhausted and had had all the socializing he could stand for one evening.
“I found her to be incredibly mesmerizing,” Charles said.
“I didn’t,” Millicent countered. They were discussing Libby Carstairs’s monologue, presented a few hours earlier. Millicent leaned nearer and murmured, “Penny is quite taken with her. You might chat with her about it.
