knew fully the consequences of their actions. They knew he would not marry them; indeed, often they were already married.
There had been several widows who had campaigned to be his viscountess, but he had made his views on matrimony very clear—he planned to stay single until he was at least forty. Even the constant badgering from his grandmother to take a wife had not altered this stand.
He had never outwardly lied to a lady, nor made promises he had no intention of keeping. And he most definitely had never seduced an innocent girl and then cast her aside.
There’s always a first time.
Many a duel had been fought to preserve or restore a daughter’s honor. Especially a young, innocent daughter. Sebastian grimaced.
Seducing the redheaded beauty would not be easy, since he would need to keep it a secret from the earl. After the incident this evening in the card room, Hetfield would naturally be suspicious of him. However, if he succeeded in ruining the girl in the eyes of society—and Sebastian was highly confident he would succeed—the earl would have no choice but to defend his family’s honor.
Sebastian gazed again at his pretty young victim. Something jabbed inside him at the thought of what she would suffer. The censure of many, the relentless whispers of the gossipmongers, a scandal that would forever plague her. Yet beautiful women, he reasoned, always seemed to find their bearing and achieve their goals. Some man would eventually marry her, despite her tarnished reputation, and count himself lucky to have such a lovely wife.
At least she would escape with her life, which was far more than his poor mother. For a split second he worried that rationalization was solely to ease his conscience, but just as quickly, Sebastian tossed it out of his mind.
The earl laughed loudly at something his daughter said. Sebastian’s lips also quirked upward, though his smile held no humor. His grandmother had been wrong. Vengeance was not for the Lord, but rather man’s work. Sebastian knew the only hope he had to bring some measure of peace to his life was to strike back at the man who had caused his pain.
And now he had found a way to do it.
Eleanor became aware of the intense stare of the man across the room as the third waltz of the evening was played. He strolled the perimeter of the ballroom, yet his eyes never wavered. There was a determined, methodic edge to his scrutiny that was slightly alarming, for it seemed to go deeper than polite interest.
Naturally, this attention was not directed at her, but rather at Bianca. No one ever noticed the moon when the sun was shining so brightly. Normally, interest in Bianca from a handsome man would be welcome, but Eleanor had not been impressed by any of the gentlemen who had pressed forward for an introduction this evening.
The majority had been older, some as old as their father. A few had a desperate air about them, two greeted her with a lascivious smile, another openly leered at Bianca as he held her hand too long. This would most certainly not have happened if the earl had been there to offer Bianca support and protection, but he abandoned them soon after they arrived. He had briefly returned to check on them and just as swiftly removed himself outside for a smoke.
Eleanor shuddered to think how Bianca would have managed without her. As it was, it felt like her lovely, innocent sister was a lamb thrown to the wolves.
Though she did not voice any distress, Eleanor could see that Bianca was very nervous. Not so much for herself, Bianca had confided as they entered the ballroom, but her younger sister was mostly concerned about disappointing or displeasing their father. She was anxious that she would inadvertently make a misstep or appear awkward.
It angered Eleanor to see how much her sister cared, especially when contrasted with how little concern their father showed in return. Eleanor sighed, trying to control her anger, knowing it would only serve to distress Bianca. Attempting to distract it, she looked about the room. And realized the same gentleman was still staring at Bianca.
His eyes had a predatory look of a hunter on the scent of fresh meat. That hungry gaze of interest set the alarm bells clanging loudly in Eleanor’s head.
She shifted her position to stand protectively in front of her sister and for a brief instant his eyes met Eleanor’s across the room. An unexpected wave of heat flushed through her body. An odd reaction, surely, for though he was a handsome man, there were others in attendance possessing greater physical beauty.
He was tall, taller than most men she knew, with broad shoulders, muscular legs, and not an ounce of extra fat on his lean torso. His hair was dark and thick, his eyes the color of a stormy gray sky. The serene smile on his sensuous mouth softened the strong, bold lines of his face and enhanced his natural charm.
He was dressed in a black evening coat with black satin knee breeches, a gold embroidered waistcoat, a white shirt, and an intricately tied white cravat. He wore his clothes with a casual elegance that proclaimed him a man of great self-confidence and pride.
Eleanor scrunched her brows into a scowl, hoping to chase away his scrutiny, then realized his gaze was no longer on them. His eyes were darting about the crowded ballroom. Perhaps looking for his partner for the next dance?
A laughing group of guests stepped in front of him, and her view of him was gone. Shaking her head at her foolishness, Eleanor turned to her sister.
“Are you getting hungry? ‘Tis nearly time for the supper dance. If I remember correctly that means the food has already been placed in the dining room. If we go now we can avoid the crush.”
Bianca slowly shook her head. “I know you told me at these affairs the food is plentiful and lavish, but honestly, Eleanor, I couldn’t swallow a bite.”
“I understand.”
Eleanor patted her sister’s arm soothingly before noticing out of the corner of her eye that the handsome stranger was coming toward them. And he was not alone. Perched on his arm was a matronly woman dressed all in black. She was frowning in confusion as she took two quick steps to each of the mystery man’s one. Eleanor decided she had to be a relative. What other woman would tolerate such manhandling?
The pair was heading directly toward them. Eleanor opened her fan and waved it absently before her face, hoping Bianca had not noticed these two. She was already a bundle of nerves. The attention of this arresting gentleman might push her over the edge.
“Ladies, I am sorry to interrupt, but the viscount is most insistent that I make an introduction.”
Eleanor watched the older woman’s bosom expand mightily as she sought to control her rapid breathing. The delay caused the gentleman’s impatience to rise and he pressed himself forward.
“I am Benton,” he said, fixing Bianca with a steady look as he bowed.
“Such impertinence, Lord Benton!” the older woman beside him exclaimed, pressing a hand over her still-heaving bosom. “Have your manners gone totally missing? You hauled me all the way over here so quickly one would think we were fleeing a fire. The very least you can do is allow me to make the introductions. Properly.”
Lord Benton’s eyes flashed hard and dangerous, then settled into a contrite gleam. “My apologies, Lady Agatha.”
Lady Agatha harrumphed rather loudly. Eleanor would not have been surprised to see the older woman storm off in a huff, but then she noticed Lord Benton’s hand clutching Lady Agatha’s arm, preventing her escape.
With all eyes on her, Lady Agatha rose grandly to the occasion. “Now then, ladies, I would like to present Sebastian Dodd, Viscount Benton. These two enchanting creatures are the daughters of the Earl of Hetfield. Lady Eleanor and Lady Bianca.”
Eleanor and Bianca curtsied, the viscount bowed. Eleanor found herself gazing at his face, her eyes drawn to the strong line of his jaw, the firm, sensuous shape of his mouth. He had such marvelously appealing lips. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to squeeze those broad, muscular shoulders as his lips brushed hers.
“Lady Eleanor?”
Blinking