(COMPLETED)
Before the Duke of Wardington, before marriage, and before the games of marrying off his three sons and their friends, there was simply Lord Martin...
There's only one sort for a rogue and that's more rogues.
So... when Martin and his f...
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"Because," Frank said as he played his card. "She's obviously falling for you and is smart enough to quit now before she gets her heart broken." They were in the back of Holland's in one of the gaming rooms. Men and women played their various games and the music from the ballroom floated through the door every time it was opened and closed. Ellen was out there.
Was Frank right?
He'd spotted her the moment he arrived and had intended on saying something to her, but the moment their eyes had caught, he'd turned away, practically running toward the place where he knew he'd find Frank.
Frank showed his hand. He'd won.
Martin threw down his cards. He's head wasn't in the game.
Cecil chuckled. "Got more than you bargained for, didn't you?"
He sighed. "Lady Ellen is... different."
Frank grumbled, "She didn't seem that different to me. Just prettier than average."
Martin shook his head. "She picked my pocket in the park, and I'd no clue until she'd tossed my purse in my hand."
Cecil and Frank both stared at him in surprise.
"She's a pickpocket?" Cecil asked as he begun to search himself. For him to do such an action suggested he'd seen her earlier in the day. His stomach turned and heated at the thought of Cecil even looking in Ellen's direction.
Martin shook his head for so many reasons. "She's not a pickpocket." Then he went on to explain everything that had happened earlier that day, including their run in with Lady Abigail. She was here at Holland's as well, with Charles at her side. He was being a doting suitor, fending off any and every man who so much as glanced in her direction. Martin could already see the wedding announcement in the papers. Abigail would be the next Countess of Cartridge. And Martin was resigned to that. Truly. He'd only ever flirted with Abigail for fun. He'd never been serious about her, only wishing she wouldn't stand so erect and would stop fanning herself in perfect intervals.
It was Cecil who said, "You're usually much better at managing your women."
Didn't Martin know it. Now he was hiding, though he wasn't sure why.
The sound of the strings picked up again as the door was opened. Martin looked over his shoulder to see who'd come in. It was Charles and Lady Abigail.
"Look at them," Frank said. "They already look as though they're married." And Martin agreed.
He watched as they made their rounds to the table, greeting the other people they knew. Charles, the essence of masculinity and power, while Abigail was everything sweet and kind. They looked good together. Abigail was perfect for Charles. She smoothed his hard lines out. Made him more approachable. It would go a long way to his taking over Parliament. Which was something everyone knew he'd do, just as his father before him.
