The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers #1)(72)
Author: Kresley Cole

He thought he’d concealed the worst part of his irritation, but if the petulant little looks and huffy retreats were any indication, he hadn’t succeeded. Grant knew that he’d reached his limit, because he politely removed him from the crowd. Grant looked about to laugh when Derek made a throttling gesture with his hands.

“So, little brother, am I doing my duty?”

“If not in spirit, then at least in deed,” Grant replied with a grin. “You should see your scowls. You look menacing.”

“That must be because I am completely bloody miserable.”

Grant smiled ruefully. “I see now that this won’t work for you. Well, at any rate, I appreciate all you’re doing—or trying to do—for our dear, sweet mother.”

As if on cue, Amanda marched over to them with a disdainful look on her face. Both sons groaned.

“Really, Derek, I did not want you to come here to scare away all your potential brides.” She opened her fan in a huff. “And I mean that literally—you do scare them! Why, I heard from Lady Hanson that her daughter was too afraid to come anywhere near your glowering self.”

He shrugged casually. “Ask Grant here, at least he thinks I’m trying. And I’ve had many ladies come up to me tonight.”

“Yes, but those are the more desperate ones. Hardly good ton. Their families make them cozen up to win a man like you.”

Grant obviously thought that was hilarious, but with watering eyes he kept his laughter in check.

Derek grinned in response. Sometimes he could see in Grant the lighthearted boy he’d been.

“Anyone for champagne?” Grant offered. “Mother?”

“That would be lovely,” she replied with evident maternal pride in his manners.

He looked to Derek, and when he shook his head, Grant smiled before he turned to go. Derek then dutifully listened as his mother expounded on the merits of various young women, hinting broadly that he should choose them over anyone, any one woman, he might have in mind. Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit.

In fact, when Grant had accidentally let it slip that Derek was searching for a sailor, his mother had been just short of swooning. The idea that he was besotted with a penniless American who lived on a sailing vessel had become all too clear .

A hushed murmur flew over the floor, distracting Derek’s attention from their conversation. A curious rush of anticipation surged through him.

Amanda carried on undaunted, not discerning that he wasn’t really listening. “Yes, after that debacle with Lydia, you have to marry only the best. We can’t have her kind aligned with the family again,” she said, pushing her point again that the American “wharf rat girl” was not for him.

“Of course,” he replied automatically, his curiosity piqued by the disturbance at the door. He felt an immediate excitement; indeed, his whole body tensed.

And then it happened.

Staring, with his jaw slack. He was capable of no more when he saw Nicole, Nicole as he’d never dreamed of her. She was dressed in a pale blue gown wrought of some gauzy, near-transparent material. Her coloring had always been vivid, but when set against the soft blue, it made him silently marvel. And with her red-gold braids and curls piled atop her head, her body looked small and delicate, fairylike. Yet at the same time she was softer, fuller, and she easily filled the low, straight bodice of her gown.

He wasn’t the only one experiencing the pleasure of watching her, he realized with a glaring sweep around the room. As she proudly walked in on some older man’s arm, all around her people stopped their conversations and stared.

She looked changed, and not merely because of the clothing. Her air was more sedate, and her regal demeanor was pronounced as her escort presented people to her. Wait, why were people being presented to her?

His mother did not miss his obvious reaction. “Oh, I see you’ve spied the talk of the ton,” she commented, sounding pleased. “That’s the Atworth granddaughter, Lady Christina. We’d all heard the story of the shy, retiring heiress finally coming back to London, but who would have thought she would be so lovely?”

“Lady? Shy?” he managed before he snapped his mouth shut.

His skin went cold, and his chest tightened. He watched dumbfounded as Nicole, looking like a princess, was led through the crowd. Who was that man escorting her?

He ran a hand over his face. Things began to make a warped kind of sense. Put Nicole in a dress, and she transforms into a lady. “What’s their title?” he snapped.

His mother frowned at him, but said, “The girl is sole heir to the Atworth marquisate.” Misunderstanding the reason for his stunned expression, she explained, “Because of some political wrangling a few hundred years ago, if there is no immediate male heir, the title will devolve on a female, and so she is the heir. She’s to be a marchioness, and a ridiculously wealthy one to boot. She would have come to England sooner, but she was afraid to travel—”

“Afraid to travel?” She’d gone toe-to-toe with him in a grueling sailing race. How many future marchionesses understood which sailing chanteys accompanied which chores? Or knew not to tuck their thumbs in their fists when hitting someone?

Why hadn’t she told him?

He’d only been half-listening as his mother prattled on, but one comment drew his attention. “She won’t be on the market long. She’s had a score of offers. Even now, look at all the lovesick swains.”

Nicole was thronged by suitors. His hands clenched.

“Oh, Derek, I do wish you would marry someone like her,” she sighed.

“Done.” He gave her an absent pat on her hand.

“Done? Just like that? What’s the meaning—”

“It just occurred to me that you are, as usual, absolutely right,” he interrupted, never taking his eyes off Nicole, as if afraid she might disappear. “And I will endeavor to do what’s best for the family. Now, if you will excuse me ” He stalked off, nearly knocking the glasses from Grant’s hands as he returned.

When Nicole spotted him, her eyes widened in astonishment. Distress rang in her voice. “Derek!”

She caught herself, and looked around at the surprised faces of her acquaintances. “Uh, Lord Stanhope. We hadn’t expected to be honored with your presence this evening,” she said, her empty pleasantry more even with each word.

“Care for a stroll?” he asked, as he bent down to secure her arm.

“Well, I don’t believe—” Nicole started airily, but he pulled her up from her seat on a settee and along to the terrace.

“Sutherland!” she said, once he’d maneuvered them outside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You don’t go to these things. I heard you didn’t attend these functions!”

“I could ask the same of you. When did sailors start making Lady Crossman’s eminence list?”

Her eyes slitted as she answered, “I have as much right to be here as you do, maybe more.”