Her Lord's Choice - Book 3

Chapter 2

How could Jack manage to look so completely at ease in these uncomfortable, stiff clothes? Dominic fiddled with his sleeves while glaring at his friend. In fact, the sweeping music and blinding lights seemed to have no effect on Jack whatsoever. He'd been flirting seamlessly since he walked through the door.

Dominic downed another glass of champagne—his third—and looked around the room again. Thankfully, there was no sign of the Morgans which meant there would be no disturbance from Kitty, but there was also no sign of Lord Mallory. What that could mean was far beyond Dominic's desire to comprehend, so he just stood there, drinking and glowering at the dancers.

"You know, I do believe Lord Mallory plans to show his face tonight." Dominic perked up at the words, suddenly listening intently to the conversation of the two men to his left—he thought their names were Lord Smithers and Lord Welkford.

"It'll be the first appearance the old bugger has made in public since he arrived in London." Lord Welkford sniffed. "They say he's been abroad all this time."

Lord Smithers scoffed. "Abroad? Wherever did you hear such nonsense? He's been in Scotland, and apparently, he's come back with a wife. A young, pretty wife."

"Is that so?" Lord Welkford said. "You know, I had business dealings with him once. I've never met a more stingy, hard-driving man before in all my life. I can't imagine what induced a woman—a young woman, no less—to marry him."

"What induces women to marry under normal circumstances, Welkford? Money. Mallory has it—and plenty of it, if I'm not mistaken. The trollop was looking for an elevation of status." Lord Smithers snorted rudely.

"But at what cost? I'd never seen a man hit a woman before I met Mallory. We had a business meeting, and this scrawny girl came into the study with scarcely more than a shawl on. From the looks of it, she was a dock worker." Welkford was disgusted.

"So? The girl was obviously a whore. We've all dabbled with them every now and then. I'm sure she deserved it, anyway." Smithers shrugged.

"Maybe so." Welkford didn't sound so sure. "It still doesn't sit right."

"Don't be so touchy. He was paying the girl which meant he owned her. If he wanted to knock out her teeth, her only responsibility would be to kneel down and let him." Smithers sneered.

"Perhaps," Welkford said slowly, still sounding uncertain. "But I was expressing concern for his wife, not his whore."

"Aren't they pretty much the same thing?" Smithers countered.

Dominic narrowed his eyes in disgust. What sort of man could say such things? Pushing away from the wall, he abandoned his eavesdropping. It was only adding to his already bad mood.

Mallory didn't sound like someone he wanted to work with. Even if it meant they could end this stupid war for revenge. Any man who would stoop to hitting a woman wasn't the sort Dominic wanted to be associated with. Period.

As he moved away from the conversation, though, he released a sigh through his nose. He had learned by now not to trust the gossip of the elites' ballrooms, and that was all that conversation had been. No doubt, Mallory was actually quite the gentleman.

It didn't matter what the others said. Dominic tugged at his sleeves again. He had to judge this man for himself, and he would do it to the best of his abilities, setting aside the conversation he'd just overheard. Londoners were always trying to throw muck on each other.

Despite his resolution, however, he couldn't stop hearing Lord Welkford's uneasy voice. Beneath the uncertainty had been a layer of thick resolve that Dominic couldn't bring himself to forget. Something fishy was going on, that was definite.