“Miss Adair has made it her personal mission to ruin my name in the eyes of all debutantes,” Rutledge said with a sigh.
Simon narrowed his eyes on the lady who was so very lovely in appearance but apparently ugly on the inside. “Why would others hang on what she tells them?”
Rutledge turned to Simon. “She’s Rowan’s granddaughter, for one, and an heiress for another. The men all want her.” Rutledge looked pointedly at her. “A beautiful and wealthy lady is a potently enticing combination for wealthy and poor men alike.”
Simon had never cared whether a person had wealth or not. He supposed that came from being raised by a father who’d left his wealth and all its trappings behind whenhisfather—Simon’s grandfather—had demanded he not marry Simon’s mother, who’d been a simple Scottish lass of no great consequence.
Simon had viewed wealth as a means for survival, a means for revenge, and, currently, a means to ensure his sisters lived in the comfort they deserved and that they made good matches, if they so wished it. He’d used his money as a tool of persuasion to attain what he needed for his company and for the good of others, but that had been coin he had made by his own wits, sweat, and determination as he built his timber empire. He’d never thought to have any wealth but that for which he worked, but then the letter had come from his grandfather’s solicitor informing Simon that the man had died and that Simon was the new Duke of Kilmartin.
Rich beyond anything you could imagine,the solicitor had so crassly written. The man was a fool. Simon could imagine a great deal, and he’d dismissed the old solicitor the moment he’d arrived in London.
Simon found his gaze drawn toward Miss Adair once more. She was shaking her head at yet another suitor, and Simon watched the man’s face show dejection and then frustration before he turned to a lady who had just strolled up to the group, said something, and then the two of them moved to the dance floor. Simon frowned, thinking back to the man who’d spoken to Miss Adair earlier. Had that gentleman been asking her to dance, as well? Even as he pondered the question, another lord approached her, bowed over her hand, and spoke. Again, she gave a firm shake of her head, and when the lord turned away, he caught Miss Adair give an exaggerated roll of her eyes to her friend, who giggled.
“What shall I do?” Rutledge asked Simon when Miss Adair turned toward him and pointed. The eyes of the woman standing beside her widened with surprise.
An idea came to Simon, and just as it did, the silver-haired man turned so that Simon saw his face. All the helpless rage he’d felt when he’d last seen the Duke of Rowan so many years ago resurfaced in a surge. His hands curled into fists, which he forced himself to immediately unfurl. Thirteen years had passed.Thirteen years!The man looked close to the same—arrogant and unfriendly—except now his face held more wrinkles and his hair no longer had a slight trace of brown strands. Frankly, it would not have mattered if Rowan had changed greatly. Simon would have known him anywhere. He wouldn’t forget the man who’d been behind convincing his grandfather of Simon’s guilt in ravishing Lady Mary. Not that it had taken much convincing, and neither man had been willing to believe Simon’s plea of innocence.
“Tell me, Rutledge,” Simon asked, turning an idea over in his head, “is there any chance that Rowan has a heart for his granddaughter?”
Rutledge gave him a quizzical look. “As a matter of fact, he adores her.”
A burning started low in his gut and spread like fire through his veins. He recognized the searing need for revenge because it was what he had survived on when he had been turned from his grandfather’s door. He’d made his fortune driven by the need to prove himself and to become so powerful that he could exact revenge.
He locked his gaze on Miss Adair once more. So far every indication was that she was a spoiled heiress, spiteful debutante, remorseless purveyor of lies, and she likely patterned her behavior after her esteemed—Simon wanted to laugh—grandfather. The certainty that he could now attain his vengeance sank into his very bones. Not an eye for an eye but a blow that would hurt Rowan nonetheless. Here, wrapped in ruby silk and spite, was his granddaughter, eager to do the same sort of damage to another innocent man.
If she was as purposely cruel as she seemed, he would seduce the delectable Miss Adair and take her to the edge of scandal, only revealing himself to Rowan, who would know damn well why he’d done what he did, once it was a fait accompli.
The first thing he needed to ascertain was the true nature of the lady, and he could only do that by becoming acquainted with her. “I’ll deal with the lady,” Simon said, quickly telling Rutledge of his plan.
Rutledge nodded. “On any other day I would feel guilty allowing what you propose, but in the face of the lady’s campaign to ruin me…” He gave a shrug. “And you did say you intended to seek more knowledge of her before proceeding, yes?”
“Aye,” Simon replied. The lady herself would set the rules of this game. He would simply play by them.
Three
Anne glanced across the crowded ballroom at the horrid Lord Rutledge, who she had purposely warned of her intention to let all innocent debutantes know he was an unrepentant rake. The man should have had the decency to depart in shame, but there he stood, champagnecoupein hand, talking with a man to his right. She couldn’t get a glimpse of Rutledge’s companion, undoubtedly a fellow rogue, as the man had turned his back in the precise moment that she endeavored to see his face. She swept her gaze over the guests near Lord Rutledge. Which poor debutante might he have his sights set upon? Just as she was considering the ladies present who might need to be informed of Lord Rutledge’s character an odd hissing came from her grandfather, and then he grabbed her arm.
All thoughts of both men vanished as Anne looked at her normally stalwart grandfather’s face, which seemed utterly lacking in color. “Grandfather, what is it? Are you in pain?”
“Yes, the pain of being too old to endure a tedious ball,” he grumbled. Yet Anne feared his words were a ruse to cover up his true pain. She’d noticed as of late that he often looked pale and pinched in the face, and that he was emerging from his bedchambers in the mornings much later than he had in the last year and a half she had been living there. But the most obvious sign that something was wrong was that he no longer insisted on accompanying her to every social function to watch over her and ensure no rogues took advantage as had happened before.
Worry blossomed in her chest, and as she spied Dr. Talbot, her grandfather’s longtime physician and friend and onetime true admirer of her now deceased mother, Anne raised her hand and waved him over. He nodded, broke off the conversation he was engaged in, and came immediately to her and her grandfather.
“Is something amiss, Miss Adair?” Dr. Talbot asked, concern clear in his voice. The man was not only her grandfather’s tall, gray-haired, kindhearted physician but was now related to her through her twin sister Jemma’s mother-in-law.
“Grandfather is—”
“Fatigued!” her grandfather snapped, his blue eyes flashing with his ire.
Anne let out a relieved breath. Her grandfather may be feeling a bit ill, but at least he had enough spirit left to try to control the situation, as he did in almost all situations. Still, she would feel better if Dr. Talbot tended to him.
Anne squared her shoulders and prepared herself for a battle, which she prayed was not loud since the Duke and Duchess of Scarsdale’s home was brimming with guests for their ball. Anne had no wish for a column to appear in the gossip section tomorrow about her quarreling with her grandfather. That would undermine the authoritative figure she was trying to cultivate so that other, younger, far more naive debutantes would heed her advice about which men were rogues and how to avoid them. Unfortunately, they were standing near the open terrace doors, and the throngs of people milling about made privacy near impossible.
“Dr. Talbot,” she started, pleased with her stern but hushed tone, “my grandfather is ill, and I believe he needs to be examined.”
“I’m not ill,” her grandfather growled, but his grimace of pain belied his words.
Anne exchanged a look with Dr. Talbot.
