Page 67 of Barbarous

Hugh couldn’t help laughing. The very man he’d been searching for so diligently in every pesthole, whorehouse, and gambling hell stood directly in front of him, lifting Anne’s gloved hand to his mouth.

Hastings’s dissipation was etched deeply into his face, but he was still handsome, or at least he would be if his mouth wasn’t twisted into such an annoying smirk.

“Hastings, what a surprise. You look much improved from the last time I saw you.” Hugh made no effort to keep his own smirk off his face. “I’m pleased to see your nose suffered no permanent damage. I had no idea Lady Letitia enjoyed the privilege of your acquaintance.”

Rather than appear chastened by Hugh’s not-so-subtle digs, Hastings smiled more widely.

“Unfortunately, I can claim no acquaintance with Lady Letitia. Rather it is your other aunt who pressed me to attend when she learned I was in town.”

Hugh snorted. What a brazen, bloody lie. Even from across the room Hugh had seen Daphne freeze like a deer at her cousin’s name. Hugh stared into the man’s unusually light brown eyes as he fought the urge to pick him up and bodily carry him from his aunt’s house.

Unusually light brown eyes.

Four other eyes flashed across his mind, and it was like the tumblers in a lock falling into place. Great bloody hell! His brain spun drunkenly and rational thought eluded him.

And so did Malcolm Hastings, slipping away into the crowd. Hugh looked to where he’d last seen Daphne; she was no longer there.

* * *

Daphne struggled to mask her revulsion as Malcolm swayed toward her, his hateful face oozing smug contempt.

“Hello, sweet cousin,” he crooned, taking her by the wrists and holding her arms out to her sides. His eyes roamed over her like a swarm of insects before he leaned in and kissed her moistly on each cheek. “What a proud husband you will make me,” he whispered in her ear.

Daphne tugged at her hands but he only released one. “What a surprise to see you here, Malcolm.”

“A pleasant one, no doubt?” His eyes danced merrily as he placed her hand on his arm. Daphne darted a quick look to where Hugh was receiving and saw his attention was engaged by a flamboyant woman spilling out of her dangerously low-cut gold silk gown—as was almost every other person in the room. Nobody was paying attention to Malcolm and Daphne.

“This is hardly the time or place, but I daresay that does not matter to you, Malcolm. You want to discuss something with me?” She glanced around the huge ballroom until she noticed an alcove almost obscured by a potted palm.

“How astute you are.” His words were slurred and his voice overly loud. If he wasn’t foxed yet, he was almost there. The alcove would not be good enough. Daphne needed to get him away from the ballroom—and the guests.

“You will lose the hold you think you have over me if you start behaving like a fool in public. The library is behind the second door in the main hall. We can get there through the cardroom and you can say what you came to say in private.”

“Of course, sweet Daphne—lead on, lead on.”

But before they could reach the cardroom, Simon materialized beside her.

“I believe we are promised for the opening set, Daphne.” Simon looked quizzically from her to Malcolm.

Daphne hesitated, thinking to put him off, but Malcolm took the decision from her hands.

“By all means, my good man,” Malcolm said, practically shoving Daphne into the other man’s arms. “Dance with my lovely cousin. I’ll step into the cardroom for a few moments.” He gave them an oily smile before lurching away.

“Shall we take our places?” Daphne said, before the older man could ask any awkward questions.

The set lasted forever and just when she’d extricated herself from Simon, the Marquess of Abermarle appeared.

Daphne bit back a scream. Instead, she smiled and said, “I’m rather fatigued, my lord. Would you mind terribly if we sat out this set?”

“Not at all, my lady, I shall sit with you.”

She ground her teeth. “I am so thirsty. Would you—”

“Of course, perhaps some lemonade?”

“That would be lovely.” The instant Abermarle turned his back, she darted toward the cardroom. Her vision was poor, but not so poor she didn’t recognize Hugh’s towering form coming toward her.

“Blast and damn, blast and damn,” she muttered, pushing into the thickest part of the crowd. Guests were cheek by jowl, and the bodies formed a seemingly endless thicket. When a gap appeared on her left, she lunged toward it, bumping into a trio of wallflowers.