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  “I’ll wager nearly every man in this room wants her.”

  Gavin did not reply to that. It was too dangerous. But he did not, could not, take his eyes off Kira.

  “I think that includes you.”

  The soft words finally brought Gavin’s gaze zipping back to Brock. “No.”

  His friend shot him a sardonic smile. “That’s not what your face says.”

  “It’s out of the question.”

  Brock smiled, his face rife with speculation. “But my guess is you’re considering it.”

  Gavin grimaced. “Damn and blast! Is it that bloody obvious?”

  His friend clapped him on the shoulder. “It is to me.”

  “It will pass,” he said, hoping desperately it was true.

  Before Brock could reply or refute Gavin’s claim, Lady Litchfield entered the room with her usual noble grace. And right behind her stood a wholly unexpected guest.

  The Earl of Westland, the uncle Kira had never met.

  A vise of apprehension clamped inside his gut. Damnation! The night was about to get bloody complicated.

  Chapter Eight

  Kira resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest as she observed Mrs. Howland’s dinner party. Rather, she pretended interest in the intricate plaster moldings of urns and rosettes above the doorways. An occasional glance at the muted landscape paintings upon the walls broke the monotony. And she wished herself anywhere else.

  The subdued chatter made her head buzz. A half hour past, Darius had pressed a glass of sherry into her hand, but it remained there, untouched.

  Why had James insisted she attend? Her presence here would do nothing to change the ton’s opinions. Oh, James had done his best to introduce her around, but he had discerned very quickly that no one viewed the meeting as a pleasure. He had given up finally, and Kira retreated against the pale yellow wall, fighting back the same tears she’d fought all her life.

  Why did no one see her for who she was? They saw only the scandal, the half-Persian blood. Blast it, neither made her less of a person.

  Across the room, James trailed after his mother, who made her way about the room in a subtle gown of pale blue. Gavin stood with a handsome gentleman who’d come with a lovely auburn-haired lady. No one in her fiancé’s family, even James himself, seemed inclined to include her in their conversation. At times like these, Kira yearned to be socially adept, so she might seem less like an outcast. But her shyness held her back. Well, that and scandal…

  A moment later, Gavin turned to the door. Kira raised her gaze in the same direction. A tall, statuesque woman with shining golden hair entered, seeming to float past a half-moon table and the velvet Grecian chaise. Dressed to perfection in an elegant gown the color of spring grass, the woman and her smile were cool, collected, as if untouched by the world. Her blue eyes shone with intelligence in a face of the palest porcelain. Quickly, Kira observed that everyone greeted her with deference. The woman accepted the attention as if it were her right, deigning to grant the crowd of people polite nods and greetings in return, as she saw fit.

  She epitomized the perfect English rose, one who was everything Kira would never be. A pang of envy pierced her. How confident the lady must feel to know she would be well received wherever she went, her opinions sought and respected. How wonderful not to feel timidity in public.

  Kira watched her, alternately dispirited and fascinated, as the woman greeted a group of revered matrons, including Mrs. Howland. A dashing, if slightly older man named Lord Toth, to whom she had been earlier introduced, approached. The woman gave him little notice until a very tall blood with tawny hair sauntered in her direction, flashing her a wicked grin. The Earl of Darehurst. She remembered James pointing him out.

  When the tawny-haired giant greeted her, however, the woman clung to Lord Toth’s arm, murmured something short, and turned away. Kira watched the odd exchange with a puzzled frown. Did she dislike Darehurst?

  She still had no answer when Gavin made his way to the stately blonde’s side and bowed over her hand with a smile, placing a proper kiss upon it. She abandoned Lord Toth instantly. Darehurst looked on with a glare.

  But Kira hardly cared. She looked upon the exchange between Gavin and the woman with alarm. No awkward pauses or introductions between them. In fact, their smiles told Kira they were well acquainted, indeed. Kira feared, felt it in her gut somehow, that the rose in question was Lady Litchfield, the woman Gavin intended to wed.

  Lady Litchfield gave him a cool nod, then she began to converse with both he and Gavin’s male friend. Another man, one who had entered the room behind her, soon joined their group.

  Kira watched Gavin. Nothing but esteem showed in his look. Clearly, he held Lady Litchfield in very high regard. A pang of hurt wound its way through Kira.

  “Who is that?” Darius whispered in her ear.

  “I feel certain that is Lady Litchfield, a young widow Cropthorne fancies he will wed, according to James.”

  “They will likely make a miserable couple, for they both seem arrogant.”

  With a gaze, Kira rebuked her brother. “Gavin is not so bad. He’s actually quite pleasant when he chooses.”

  “Gavin, is it?” Darius shot her a stare sharp with question.

  “Must you be so suspicious? He asked me to make use of his given name, since we will soon be of the same family.”

  “Did he?” Darius looked less than pleased by her revelation.

  “Indeed.” Kira frowned. How could she explain that, since their truce, she’d come to know Gavin much better than Darius imagined?

  “Are you aware that he wants you?”

  Darius rarely minced words, but this stunned even her. “That’s absurd. I’m to wed his cousin, and he has a perfectly lovely woman he will soon offer for—”

  “I did not say he wanted to marry you.”

  Darius’s gaze held such gravity, Kira paused. Was it true? While it seemed unlikely, she was torn between indignation and a dangerous delight. The reckless pre-wedding shivers were back.

  Darius scrutinized her expression and apparently disliked what he saw. “Watch yourself, sister.”

  “He’s only broached me with becoming friends for the sake of family harmony.”

  Her brother’s mouth twisted down into a cynical smile. “Cropthorne can call it whatever he likes, but by any name he chooses, I feel certain it’s seduction he has in mind.”

  “You are so mistrustful.”

  Beside her, Darius shrugged. He would let the matter drop for now, but Kira knew that would not be the last she heard on the subject.

  “Who is the other man? The one who entered behind Lady Litchfield?”

  Kira glanced at the man standing beside Gavin, near the drawing room door. He was an older gentleman and a stranger, but his features seemed more than a bit familiar. The chin, and yes, the blue eyes, they were so like… Kira gasped, even as she felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Darius, oh my… He—he looks like Papa,” she blurted.

  “Indeed, though a bit older,” Darius drawled. “I suspect we’ve finally got a glimpse of the Earl of Westland.”

  Immediately, dread dug into Kira’s stomach. Would the man cut them? Would he degrade their heritage for all the guests’ amusement? Kira closed her eyes tightly, wishing desperately this night had never come to pass.

  A moment later, an auburn-haired woman strode toward her corner of the room. Kira had noticed the lady earlier, arriving with the man to whom Gavin currently spoke. She was dressed every inch a lady, from the golden satinet of her lace-trimmed gown to the garland of roses twined in her ringlets. But when the redhead stopped directly before her, Kira stared at her in bemusement.

  “Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve met,” said the woman, a bright smile on her winsome face.

  Kira hesitated. The woman actually wanted to speak to her?

  “I realize it’s very forward of me to introduce myself, but you look as if you could use a friendly
face. I’m Lady Madeline Taylor.”

  Kira had never heard the name, but she had no doubt the smiling Lady Madeline had heard of her. “I am Miss Kira Melbourne.”

  A moment of surprise and speculation crossed her face. Then quickly she erased it. “You are engaged to Mr. Howland, is that not so?”

  “Yes.” Didn’t Lady Madeline mean to insult her, walk away, or at least frown?

  Across the room, the uncle she had never met spoke most intently with Gavin’s companion, who had taken up residence in a plush fringed chair of pale cream.

  “Welcome to the family,” Lady Madeline said, ending her observation. At Kira’s puzzled frown, the redhead said, “I am Gavin and James’s cousin.”

  Surprise skittered through Kira. Family? She found the idea of some comfort since the woman knew her identity and hadn’t run away. Kira sent the woman a hesitant smile. Perhaps she might be something of an ally.

  “Thank you.” Kira smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  Beside her, Darius cleared his throat.

  Kira grimaced. “Forgive my terrible manners. Crowds fluster me,” she apologized. “This is my brother, Mr. Darius Melbourne.”

  “A pleasure,” said Lady Madeline as Darius bowed. Without pause, the redhead turned back to Kira. “So, we must soon have tea and you can tell me all about yourself.”

  Kira liked the woman more with each sentence. “Thank you, Lady Madeline. I would be delighted, though I fear there isn’t much to say, despite—” Gossip… No! She should not mention her scandal to her newest acquaintance. Why remind the lady of all the reasons not to speak to her?

  “Call me Maddie, please,” she said into the silence. “We’re to be family.” A smile revealed a dimple in her left cheek, but as she glanced across the room at Gavin, it faded, replaced by a frown. “I wonder why Gavin is scowling?”

  A glance over her shoulder confirmed that, despite the fact the perfect English rose had tethered herself to his arm, he was indeed frowning like the very devil. And looking right at her.

  Kira shrugged. “He scowls more often than he ought.”

  “True.”

  Though Kira knew her curiosity was dangerous, she couldn’t hold her question in. “The lady beside him, is she Lady Litchfield?”

  “Indeed. Though I suspect we will soon call her the Duchess of Cropthorne.”

  Maddie smiled, and Kira did her best to return the gesture. But her stomach felt slightly queasy.

  “The gentleman in the blue coat is Lord Westland. Oh, and that handsome rogue beside Gavin is my husband, Mr. Brock Taylor. I shall introduce you to him later. He and Gavin are famous friends. In fact, I’m surprised my cousin has not brought Brock over to meet you already.”

  Kira was not terribly surprised, but she was disappointed. Nor was she convinced that Mr. Taylor would wish to make her acquaintance. Still, she nodded at her new friend.

  “My sister is somewhat shy, Lady Madeline. What Kira means to say is that she would be delighted to meet your husband.”

  She shot her brother an irritated glare.

  Maddie laughed. “Shy, are you? I can talk enough for two when need be, so we shall get on just fine.” A frown gathered between her sleek auburn brows. She looked vexed. “It is shocking the men have not come to us, so we must go to them.”

  Maddie spun away as if she expected her to follow. Darius even gave her a little shove.

  “Stop it!” she whispered. “Lord Westland stands beside Gavin and Mr. Taylor, and you must know what will happen if we venture over there? Our own uncle will cut us. Everyone will see.”

  Suitably chastised, Darius leaned against the wall again.

  However, Maddie seemed unaware of Kira’s predicament. “Come along. You can only feel less timid when you have more acquaintances.”

  Before she could protest, Maddie linked her arm through Kira’s and led her across the room. Darius followed.

  Gavin looked up at their approach. His scowl was unmistakable. Kira could not deny that his reproof hurt. What reason had he to be angry with her? Were they not friends now?

  Or had she misunderstood his overtures?

  Quickly, Maddie introduced Darius and her to Brock, who bowed gallantly. Kira murmured something appropriate, though she could hardly remember what.

  She only knew that her uncle’s gaze had sliced to her upon mention of her name and had not left.

  Maddie introduced them next to Lady Litchfield. Kira thought she might be grateful for any excuse to look away from the earl. Gavin’s companion soon proved her wrong.

  Lady Litchfield fixed her with a glacial glare. Around them, the room watched intently. Kira felt the stare of every guest upon her. Still, she refused to close her eyes and give in to the roiling of her stomach, not when the superior snob looked on.

  “You’re to wed our James?” the lady asked, looking down her nose at Kira.

  “Indeed.” She raised her chin, refusing to let Lady Perfection get the better of her. “Our nuptials will take place in a bit over a week.”

  “I see,” murmured the lady. Not I wish you felicitations or even congratulations, Kira noted.

  How could Gavin marry such a woman? She was haughty and lacking in verve. A life with her would only encourage Gavin toward his naturally reserved tendencies. Certainly Kira could not see the pale beauty making him laugh. Still, a simple glance at Lady Litchfield revealed years of good grace and generations of genteel breeding. Such a lady would never tolerate scandal, much less incite it. If Gavin wed her, he would do so because he made the choice with his head.

  The stubborn man would be better off to think with his heart.

  “Excuse me.” Without further preamble, Lady Litchfield excused herself from the small group and made her way to Aunt Caroline.

  Kira folded her hands before her. All about her, people began to whisper. Lord, she would pay money to be tangled in a bush full of thorns—as long as the bush was far away from London.

  “And Lord Westland,” Maddie said to Kira’s uncle, ending the awkward lull, “this is Kira Melbour—” With a puzzled frown, Maddie glanced at the earl. “You’ve the same surname. Forgive my lack of knowledge, but are you related?”

  The vise of tension in Kira’s stomach tightened unbearably. Would her uncle claim she and her brother? Or cut them because of their mixed blood?

  Nearly choking on insecurity, Kira looked at the tall lord. The earl looked so painfully like her father, yet he possessed no laugh lines or merriment in his blue eyes, only gray hair and a sour scowl. His proud expression left her little hope that he would speak to she and Darius.

  “Indeed,” Gavin said into the silence.

  Kira looked at him, utterly stunned. He sent her a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “They are your brother’s children, are they not?” he said to her uncle. “Their relation to you would explain their congeniality and talent.”

  The earl could not gracefully refuse to acknowledge them, not without renouncing Gavin’s compliment. It was as if he had come to her rescue. A smile rushed to Kira’s face. Warmth lit a bit of happiness in her belly. Suddenly, she was certain she and Gavin were friends, and she was quite glad.

  “I believe you are correct, your grace.” The earl held his back so erect, Kira wondered that it didn’t shatter.

  Still, he made no overture to continue the introduction.

  Gavin regarded her uncle with faint displeasure. “I understand from Miss Melbourne that you have never had the pleasure of meeting. Let now be the time to change that unfortunate circumstance.”

  “Yes, let it,” agreed Maddie, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents around her.

  The earl said nothing for long moments as he scrutinized both Kira and Darius. She held her breath, hoping for acceptance, but fearing a public rebuff.

  Finally, the earl held out his hand to her brother. “It is good to finally meet you, Darius.”

  “My lord.” Her brother took her un
cle’s hand.

  “Are you engaged in a profession?”

  “I fancy the idea of studying law.”

  Her uncle frowned. “If you change your mind and decide to enter the military, call upon me. I have connections.”

  As invitations went, her uncle’s was not the most gracious, but it was something of an olive branch. Kira cast an excited gaze to her brother.

  “And you, young lady,” her uncle growled.

  Kira turned wide eyes in his direction. “You’re to be married soon to his grace’s clergyman cousin?”

  “I am.”

  With a sharp glance, the older man took her measure. “In light of your circumstances, that will be acceptable. Where is your father?”

  The venom in his final question took Kira aback.

  “No,” her uncle broke in. “Do not tell me. He is traveling.”

  Kira did not like his tone, but answered, “Yes, my lord.”

  Her uncle’s mouth pinched with disapproval. “Of course.”

  Relief flooded Kira when dinner was announced, saving her from the urge to defend her father. Everyone entered the dining room in a careful procession, denoted by rank and importance. That left Kira and Darius at the back.

  She did not speak to her uncle again that night, but over the elegant linen-draped table laden with Wedgwood china, a silver soup tureen, and more than twenty symmetrically-arranged covered dishes, Kira caught her uncle’s gaze. And he nodded. She wondered if it might, perhaps, be the beginning of a familial relationship. If so, it seemed she had, at least in part, Gavin to thank for it.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Gavin locked himself in the library to escape Aunt Caroline’s haranguing. Not only had the party gone very ill, according to her, he was entirely to blame. How had he allowed the Melbournes to leave their place against the wall and what had possessed him to introduce them to the very proper Lord Westland?

  Good question. Sighing, Gavin rubbed his tired eyes, then let his gaze drift over row after row of books his family had spent generations collecting. It did not distract him.