on his heel, he hurled his empty champagne goblet at the wall. The sound of shattering glass brought him a fleeting moment of satisfaction, yet did nothing to solve his dilemma. He was still trapped. In more ways than one.
With a grunt of frustration, Sebastian eyed the brick again, debating whether he should take a chance. But for once, common sense ruled. There was no help for it. He’d have to go back inside the house and through the ballroom in order to take his leave.
The duke’s servants had lit torches in strategic points throughout the garden and lanterns were scattered in the higher trees. They twinkled like stars and enhanced the romantic mood. Sebastian could hear snatches of muted conversations as he wound his way down the various stone pathways. Fortunately he did not stumble upon any romantic trysts.
He had no sooner stepped back inside the crowded ballroom when he was waylaid by Lady Agatha and the Dowager Countess of Ashland. If not for the friendship the two older women had shared with his grandmother, he would have snarled at the pair and sent them on their way. Yet even with his temper still simmering, he found he could not be so rude.
“I see that you are not dancing, my lord,” Lady Agatha said. “In deference to your recently departed grandmother, I am sure. ‘Tis such a heartfelt and respectful gesture. You do her memory proud.”
“Indeed.” The dowager countess bobbed her head enthusiastically in agreement. “However, as I recall, her greatest wish was to see you married to a suitable lady. It might be a more fitting honor if you set yourself to accomplishing that task by seeking out the company of a few of the eligible debutantes in attendance this evening.”
Lady Agatha pounced on the suggestion. “It might. The countess and I would be pleased to assist you.”
“Oh, yes. Truly. We know all the girls from the very best families.”
“We most certainly do. Mark my words, we could find you a suitable bride in a fortnight. Tell me, Lord Benton, do you prefer a lady with light or dark hair?”
Sebastian felt a tightening in his gut. The urge to reach out with both hands and place them around Lady Agatha’s wrinkled neck was almost overpowering. But that would leave the countess free to continue talking. Perhaps he could bang their heads together?
“‘Tis a most generous offer, ladies,” Sebastian replied. “Having someone else procure a woman to please and entertain is something men fantasize over. I will most definitely call upon you if there is ever a time when I feel incapable of accomplishing the task on my own. Or if I lack the sufficient coin to pay for the pleasure.”
Knowing he had gone too far, Sebastian forced himself to smile in order to leave the impression he was joking. Too bad he wasn’t.
Still, his scandalous, improper remarks produced the desired effect. Lady Agatha and the countess went mute. Sebastian hastily bowed, then made his escape.
He was forced to take a meandering path through the crowd as he headed toward the exit. He did not pause to speak with anyone, though several people attempted to engage him in conversation. One particular set of ladies approached him with open, encouraging smiles, but the expression on his face must have conveyed his turbulent frame of mind, for they gave him a wide berth.
Yet as they passed him one woman snapped open her fan, then raised it to her lips to hide her comments. Disparaging remarks, judging by her frowning brows. About him, Sebastian was certain. God Almighty, would this evening never end?
He continued to move through the crush, his spirits rising slightly when he caught sight of the large, open archway leading out of the ballroom. At least he could finally see his way out. But the crowd seemed to be growing and he quickly found himself pressed close behind two chattering females, one in a gown of vivid green, and the other in an ensemble of subtle blue.
“Who is that insipid-looking redhead over there near the potted fronds?” Green Dress asked. “I’m sure I’ve never seen her before.”
Blue Dress tugged at the dangling ribbon around her wrist, raised the attached quizzing glass up to her eye, and peered through the lens. “Oh, I met her earlier. ‘Tis the Earl of Hetfield’s daughter. Straight from the country, by the look of that outfit.”
The Earl of Hetfield’s daughter! Sebastian’s head whirled so quickly he felt a wrenching pain shoot through his neck.
“My heavens, it is such a dreadful gown. Does she not own a looking glass? Truly, one would expect more from Lord Hetfield. How can he allow her to be seen in public? ‘Tis an embarrassment.” Green Dress shuddered, moving her hand over the silk of her own skirt, as if to assure herself that she was in a superiorly fashionable garment.
“She has a pretty sort of face, I suppose, but honestly, what was the earl thinking bringing her to Town after the Season has begun?” Blue Dress asked. “All the competent, fashionable dressmakers have been booked for weeks working on their clients’ wardrobe. My maid told me that Madame Claudette nearly doubled the price of each garment when the earl insisted the gowns he ordered be ready as soon as possible.”
“Did he pay it?”
“Judging by the dress his daughter is currently wearing, one must assume he did not.”
There was a catty giggle, followed by a tsking sound of disapproval. What a pair of harridans! Sebastian could almost pity the poor girl, but her connection to the earl made that an impossibility. She was the daughter of his enemy.
“Who is that dowdy female standing beside her?” Blue Dress asked. “Though a bit long in the tooth, she still looks too young to be a chaperone.”
Sebastian did not bother waiting to hear Green Dress’s reply. The Earl of Hetfield’s daughter, eh? He had not known the earl had a daughter. His heart started to race. Anxiously he crossed the crowded ballroom floor, eager for a better look. Merely out of curiosity, he assured himself.
His eyes moved to the potted fronds. Bloody hell. A pretty sort of face? The young woman standing in the soft candlelight took his breath away. Her hair was a cascade of amber curls artfully swept up to bare her neck, her skin the color of rich cream. Her features were perfectly formed, perfectly proportioned. She had the ethereal, classic feminine beauty that transcended time, the kind of beauty that poets wrote of, that drove sane men to rash acts.
She appeared fresh and innocent and slightly nervous. He could detect her nerves by the way her head was constantly turning every which way as she took in the scene around her. Every few moments she would turn toward the woman standing beside her and say something. The subsequent answers given invariably made her smile. Interesting.
Sebastian was surprised she was not surrounded by a bevy of eager young bucks, each clamoring for her attention. Fashionably dressed or not, she was easily one of the most attractive females in the room.
The Earl of Hetfield approached and Sebastian’s mood turned sour. The young beauty turned, smiled, then affectionately patted the earl’s arm. He leaned close and whispered something in her ear. Her smile widened further.
A haze fell over Sebastian’s vision. The picture of a doting father with his daughter tore at something deep inside him. Here was the earl, free to indulge himself in parental affection while Sebastian’s mother was forever denied that joy.
Noting again with bitterness the apparent affection between the pair, a devious thought suddenly struck Sebastian. This lovely, innocent, virginal girl could hold the key to his revenge. The earl might not wish to defend his honor over a pair of cards, but he most certainly would risk all to save his daughter from ruin.
Sebastian was pricked by his elusive conscience, but only for a brief instant. This female was a means to an end and if it was the only way to achieve his revenge, then so be it.
His experience with females was almost legendary, yet Sebastian prided himself on the fact that he had always behaved like a gentleman. The various mistresses he had kept over the years had been amply rewarded financially and always treated with dignity.
The numerous affairs