“I called on you today,” he said, ignoring her request.
Phaedra froze. Cromby was by no means destitute according to her information. Just a slimy louse. Did he want to court her?
Never!
“Please excuse me,” Phaedra said more forcefully, once again trying to sidestep him.
She gasped when he circled his fingers around her arm, halting her escape. Phaedra wasn’t sure what was happening. Lord Cromby wasn’t one of her usual suitors. He had never shown interest in her before tonight. She didn’t have a pistol with her. Neither did she have a tray of sandwiches at hand. Could she punch him in the nose? Would that hurt enough for him to let her go?
Phaedra glared at him. “Unhand me, sir.”
He gave a sleazy grin. “I don’t think I will, my lady. You and I have something to dis—”
His words were cut off as he was suddenly yanked away from her.
“The lady asked you to let her go, Cromby.”
Phaedra nearly sagged in relief.
Her knight had arrived.
*
Fury, unlike thatwhich Deerhurst had ever before experienced, exploded through him like a thousand thunderbolts. He glowered at Cromby, who drew back at the force of his anger.
Good.
The man still possessed a sliver of self-preservation. Cromby was the bastard who had found the list Warrick lost and secured it to the betting book of White’s. Deerhurst would be damned if he allowed the man to harass Lady Phaedra because of it. In fact, it took about all his discipline not to drag the man off to the garden and beat him to a pulp.
Cromby cleared his throat. “Lady Phaedra and I were merely enjoying a conversation, Deerhurst.”
Deerhurst raised a brow. “Doesn’t look like she is enjoying it much.”
Cromby’s jaw clenched. “That is my fault, indeed. I have been told that my humor is sometimes difficult for women to follow.”
“I’m not a woman,” Deerhurst said. “And I’m not following.”
Cromby stiffened, and Deerhurst too, locked every single muscle in place. Cromby wouldn’t win this round. Or any other rounds if Deerhurst had any say in the matter. He was damn lucky Deerhurst did not grab him by the lapels and toss him over the terrace railings.
His fingers flexed.
He ignored the little voice that called him a hypocrite. Yes, he had taken part in that damn list too, but not in the wagers, nor had they meant for the list to ever become known.
And he was attempting to make it right by protecting Lady Phaedra from blackguards such as Cromby. Intention ought to count for something, no matter how bloody little.
His friends were also keeping an eye on the other ladies, though one of them had already been betrothed because of the wagers, if the whispers at White’s could be believed. Nothing had been formally announced.
Cromby shoved past Deerhurst, shooting him a glare. “I won’t forget this, Deerhurst.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, Cromby,” Deerhurst said, lowering his voice to a menacing tone, “I very much hope that you don’t.” There would be no lenience for his tricks again.
Deerhurst waited until the man disappeared into the bustling crowd before directing his attention to Lady Phaedra. She looked so beautiful and out of sorts his heart ached.
“Are you all right?” Deerhurst asked. “Cromby didn’t hurt you, did he?”
She rubbed her wrist. “No, but the man has a foul mouth and poisonous intentions.”
Deerhurst locked his gaze onto that little action. He cursed Cromby to hell and made a mental note to teach the bastard a lesson in manners.
