Why am I the only North sibling not under Cupid’s spell?
The carriage finally turned into Green Street and pulled up out the front of Ashton House. With a heavy heart, Alice alighted and stood on the pavement. While she waited for Patience, she pondered a dark question.
Just how long would it take for her sister to forgive her if she happened to accidently put a bullet into Cuthbert Saint? Shooting him a second time might, however, be a little difficult to explain.
I am sorely tempted.
When she caught a glimpse of the happiness which radiated on Patience’s face, Alice put all notions of villainy aside. That look told her all she needed to know. The only way that the North family was going to be rid of Mister Saint was by managing to unveil his true nature. For her to break her sister’s heart.
As she followed a hurrying Patience up the front steps of Ashton House, Alice began to pray.
Please, dear lord, let Harry Steele be here tonight, and let him live up to his secret reputation. I don’t know what I will do if he fails me.
Chapter 4
Lord and Lady Ashton’s elegant mansion was the usual crush of people, but within seconds of their arrival, Cuthbert Saint had managed to locate the North sisters and was making his regular play. He bowed low to Alice, and she offered him a tight smile in reply.
When he turned his attention to Patience and gifted her with a heart-stopping smile, a tide of nausea rose in Alice’s stomach. The man was so much like pond slime, she couldn’t bear it.
Still, she had to give Cuthbert his dues. He was immaculately turned out, his jet-black hair perfectly oiled. The cut of his evening suit was so sharp, Alice was certain she would bleed if she touched it.
Why did you have to be so damn handsome? A flaw of any sort would be nice—just something I can highlight with Patience.
“Mister Saint, how wonderful to see you here this evening,” gushed Patience.
“It is such an unexpected delight,” he replied.
Even his voice is silken. Patience never stood a chance.
Cuthbert offered Patience his arm and led her away, leaving Alice standing alone and pondering further dire options. She was still considering whether it was worth the coin to hire a couple of thugs to pay him a visit when a loud cheer erupted close to the entrance to the main ballroom.
Alice turned as a large section of the crowd divided down the middle and a now familiar figure strode into the room. Men and women smiled and applauded alike at Lord Harry Steele. Fans and eyelashes were fluttered in his direction. Several women swooned.
Harry held out his arms and accepted their adulation. His gold walking stick was borne aloft like he was a biblical prophet.
“Gosh. Moses didn’t get that good a reception when he parted the Red Sea, and he destroyed Pharaoh’s army at the same time,” she muttered.
To be fair, Alice didn’t think Moses had ever worn a pure white suit. Nor a bright red codpiece. He most definitely hadn’t sported a silver tiara. Harry’s outfit was a riot of mismatched eccentricity.
And yet he wore it so well.
Other guests clamored for his attention. Hands were thrust out for shaking. Numerous glasses of champagne were quickly offered. Women dipped into low curtsies, the kind that allowed a man a good look at their breasts if he was so inclined.
Harry rewarded them all with a beaming smile. Talk about making an entrance.
And then his gaze met hers and Alice’s heart stopped.
Excellent. She was here. If Miss Alice North had not come to the Ashtons’ ball tonight, all the hours Harry had dedicated to selecting an outfit and dressing for the party would have gone to waste.
She was wearing a shocked and thoroughly disapproving look. Brilliant. The outrageous outfit had worked.
What better way to have London thinking he was a brainless peacock than to dress and act like one in public? He was more than happy to let people believe that they were superior to him and his dandyish lifestyle. Those who were gushing all over him as he made his grand entrance were also the ones who would be making snide remarks about him behind his back, the second he was out of earshot.
And yet one by one, as scandals touched their lives, they would seek him out and pay for his assistance.
Harry wasn’t the least fazed by their insincere behavior; he was counting on it. He was a master at being a chameleon. His father’s library had contained many books, and the hours he had spent studying them meant he was well aware that the most dangerous creatures on earth were those who dazzled their victims just before they struck.
Waving the rest of his disingenuous fans away, Harry made a beeline for the corner where Miss Alice North lurked. He gave a deliberate sexy sway of his hips and her eyes immediately grew wide.
You are so easy to tease and tempt. If you weren’t a client, I would love to . . . hmm.
He stopped a few feet away and bowed. “Miss North, what a pleasure,” he all but purred.
Her gaze roamed slowly over his body. Harry opened his white jacket, showing off the gold lining, inviting her perusal. She might well be doing her utmost to look aghast at his attire, but he caught the telltale signs that she liked what she saw. The mere glint in her eyes. The hand she held softly to her chest. And the tongue that moistened her bottom lip. Oh. Yes.
“Lord Steele,” she said.
Harry frowned. “No. Please. My friends call me Harry. We cannot be so formal with one another.”
He had her money, and in his book, anyone who gave him cash was counted as a friend.
“Harry.” She accepted his offered arm and he led her out of the corner and to a private alcove away from the crush of guests. Even as she took a seat on a cream sofa, her gaze remained fixed on his outfit.
I knew the tiara was the right choice.
His sparkling costume was a stark contrast to her attire. He didn’t even want to consider the dull, dark grey of Alice’s gown. He could see what she had been trying to achieve—the blank-canvas look—but all it did was make him feel sorry for her.
Is pity a color?
Resisting the temptation to sit close to her, Harry took up a seat at the end of the sofa and kept a respectable distance between them. Alice was wringing her hands in an obvious display of discomfort. “I . . . I’m not sure if you are the man for the job,” she said.
He let out a long, seductive sigh. In every contract, there came a time when his clients panicked. When they truly believed that the sum of all he was amounted to what they beheld with their eyes. This moment was always heavily pregnant with risk.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “But if I do that, your sweet sister will end up marrying that scoundrel. You owe it to her and your family to use all means necessary to stop that happening. And that includes trusting me.”
The seriousness of his tone seemed to have the desired effect. Alice screwed her eyes shut and clenched her lips between her teeth. Harry always hated this part. When he had to break his clients down in order to help rebuild them and gain their trust.
“You think me a fool, but I promise I will save Patience. From my initial investigations, your instincts about Cuthbert Saint appear to be sound. But before I go into that, I need to ask you some questions,” he said.
She frowned at him. “What sort of questions?”
“Well for a start, where the devil are your parents? They can’t be blind as to what is happening. But probably of even greater importance is the question of how far you are prepared to go in order to help your sister.”