Dancing with the Viscount (Howertys Prequel Novella)

Chapter 5: Foul Smelling

The muted sounds of conversation, of papers turning, and men playing cards or billiards did nothing to improve Preston's mood as he sat at White's two days later. It had rubbed him the wrong way to find out exactly how Amelia saw him. As her brother's friend. Who at best tolerated her presence. She could not be more wrong. If he had ever appeared aloof around her, it was only because he was trying to hide his true feelings. Hide how very much he wanted her.

It probably shouldn't have surprised him. She had never given him any indication she thought of him as anything else. And yet... On some level, he had hoped she did. It was a foolish hope, and one he repeatedly tried to quench. He knew he was not for her. But that knowledge was not enough to extinguish his feelings completely.

Playing the role of someone besotted with her—courting her—felt a little too real. He should never have agreed to this farce. Being alone with her this much... In the garden the other night, he had been so close to leaning down and kissing her before he regained his senses. So close to revealing his true feelings.

"Leighton."

He looked up to see Adam Warble, the Marquess of Richmond and future Duke of Hoyton, staring down at him.

"Richmond." He nodded in greeting as the other man sat down next to him and took a sip from a drink. Amelia's oldest brother shared her dark brown hair, but his eyes were a watery blue rather than the warm brown of his sister's. He also lacked her playful nature, rather taking after his severe father. "Any news from Adrian?"

The marquess lifted a shoulder in a shrug, a movement not entirely unlike the one Amelia often employed. "He sent word that he will be back in another fortnight. Mother is enjoying his company far too much to allow him to return to London quite yet. He reckons he will bore her by then." Richmond's pale blue eyes turned to Preston. "I hear you have been seen hovering around Amelia lately."

It wasn't even a question. Not really. Keeping his voice even, Preston nodded. "Yes. I've been keeping an eye on her with Adrian away. He usually is the one to watch out for her."

"Ah yes. My father and I care little for the social scene." Richmond took another sip of his drink, sounding bored. "Our aunt is her chaperone, so do not feel obliged to step into my brother's shoes."

"Not at all. I am enjoying her company." He cursed himself as the other man's eyes narrowed.

"As long as you do not enjoy her company too much."

How did Amelia think their pretend courtship would go down with her family? She was the daughter of a duke. They would definitely expect more than a viscount for her. Preston might be from an old family, but he was still only a viscount. A duke's daughter would easily catch the interest of a marquess or earl at least.

"Of course," he muttered. "Would not dream of it."

Technically, that was a blatant lie. He had plenty of dreams featuring Amelia. Not that he'd ever tell anyone. He suppressed a groan. What a bloody mess this was. Standing, he sketched a bow and excused himself. He had better things to do than watch Richmond looking down his nose at him.

When he entered his home a short while later, his butler approached him within moments, his white brows drawn.

"My Lord," he said with a bow. "Lady Amelia is waiting for you in the reception room."

"Great." There was no hiding the sarcasm in his tone, but his butler's face didn't so much as twitch. Giving him his hat, Preston moved towards the reception room. "Thank you, Giles."

Amelia looked up as he entered and smiled, the warm smile affecting him more than he cared to admit. "Good afternoon! Where have you been? I have waited forever."