Captivated By a Lady's Charm (Lords of Honor #2)(9)

Prudence leapt to her feet as a sudden wave of relief ran through her. “Sin!” She made to throw her arms about her conquering hero of a brother and his crimson-haired, all things lovely and wonderful wife, Juliet. Years earlier, Prudence and her sisters decided Sin was a far more interesting name for their roguish brother than his given one. As such, he would forever be Sin. She remembered herself and sank back on her heels. “Sin, Juliet,” she greeted in smooth, modulated tones her mother would have been hard pressed to find fault with.

Juliet claimed her hands and in a show that earned disapproving glances, placed a kiss on Prudence’s cheek. “My dear Prudence.”

Sin snorted. “How very proper you’ve become, Pru.” His use of her childhood moniker set her teeth on edge. He paused and gave her a deliberate look.

Vexing as always, he expected some tart response. Instead, she gave a flounce of her silly, blonde ringlets refusing to take his bait.

“Ah, it seems the governess I hired for you did an admirable job of turning you into an—oomph.” He grunted as his wife buried her elbow into his side and glared up at him with a look that screamed all governess jests were not permitted. Then, Juliet gentled that look with a smile.

Prudence stared at them a moment as they eyed each other in that moonstruck way of theirs. The kind of look in which she suspected she could jump up and down waving her hands wildly and still they’d not see anything or anyone but one another. Yes, it had been Juliet’s brother on a warped game of revenge against Sin who’d embroiled the Tidemore clan into a quagmire of grim marital prospects. But it was still difficult to begrudge Juliet and Sin the love they’d come to know. A twinge of envy pulled at her. She’d trade her left foot to have a gentleman stare at her with such devotion and love in his eyes. With a sigh, Prudence glanced out across the crowded ballroom floor to the lords and ladies performing the lively steps of a country reel.

The gentleman who would own her heart would be bold enough to face down the gossips and dance with her, for nothing more than the need to hold her in his arms. He would be a man of conviction. She scanned the room; passing her gaze over the gentlemen present. He would be a man who was honorable and brave and—

Sin cuffed her under the chin. “Why so glum?”

“Do not cuff me under the chin,” she demanded. “I am not a girl.”

“You are but eighteen.”

“I am a woman,” she reminded him.

Momentarily silenced, her brother tugged at his cravat and a flush mottled his cheeks.

When he opened his mouth to likely protest with talks of dolls she’d played with or schemes she’d concocted as a girl, she interrupted him. “If I am not a woman then spare me from attending these infernal events.” No, she was no longer a girl but rather a woman grown and likely to spend the rest of her days a spinster. Nor was she one of those ladies excited about the prospect. She’d always looked forward to the grand adventure of marriage and falling in love as Sin and Patrina had managed. Those grand illusions had been shattered when she’d made her Come Out. The gentlemen of the ton had proven themselves remarkably uninterested in courting her, the latest Tidemore sister. She sighed. It was rather hard to find love and excitement when not a single lord offered so much as a dance.

The tension left her brother’s shoulders and he passed a searching stare over her face. “You are not having a good time then, Prudence?”

She looked over at Juliet. Pained regret seeped from her eyes. Her sister-in-law would take on the guilt of her brother’s crimes. At one time she’d blamed Juliet. She’d delighted in the other woman’s guilt. No more. She grimaced. I was really a horrid creature. “I am having a good enough time,” she answered noncommittally.

Her brother snorted once more and she and Juliet turned matching glares on him. Whatever droll response he would make, however, was lost to a flurry of whispers that spread like a slow conflagration through the crowded room. Having been the recipient of those same hushed words from the ton gossips, Prudence had come to recognize there were various types of whispers. There were the “she-is-scandalous-and-should-be-loudly-shamed” whispers and then there were the reverent “this-person-commands-awe-and-intrigue” whispers. This latest flurry of interest from Lady Drake’s guests indicated whispers of the latter sort.

Curiosity pulled at Prudence and grateful for the diversion away from her own miserable state, she went up on tiptoe and craned her neck to see over the heads of the far taller guests. “Who is it?”

Her brother eyed the entrance of the ballroom a moment. His gaze lingered on the figure who’d commanded the crowd’s attention. “You do not attend gossip,” Sin pointed out.

And as she’d well-learned his diversionary tactics through the years, she recognized it now turned on her. Her interest redoubled, and still arched on tiptoes for a glimpse of the figure at the front of the ballroom, she looked to Juliet.

Ignoring her husband’s pointed frown, Juliet supplied the identity of the whispered-about figure. “It is the Marquess of St. Cyr.”

“The Marquess of St. Cyr?” she squeaked. Shock sent her stumbling into Sin’s side. Her brother quickly steadied her. Heart racing, she ignored Juliet’s concerned question and boldly stepped around Sin in search of the man she’d convinced herself she’d merely dreamed about. Alas, he’d been no dream. An odd fluttering danced in her belly as the crowd parted. He moved with a powerful strength most kings would fail to evince. Prudence pressed a hand to her heart to calm the wildly pounding organ.