The Ugly Duckling Debutante(4)

“My lord.” She bowed lower than her mother, which Nicholas thought nearly impossible, and smiled revealing straight white teeth, although quite small and not fitting for her large mouth. Her gums seemed to stick out more than her teeth, making Nicholas stare longer than usual. Lady Isabel, the mother in question smirked, taking the purpose of Nicholas’s stare as encouragement and pushed her daughter into his reluctant arms. With a huff of satisfaction she said.



“If you’ll just excuse me then,” and without an other word scurried away without looking back.



And so it happened Lord Renwick was stuck with this untamed and amiable creature called Alisa. “Is this your first season?” he asked politely while leading her to the dance floor.



“Yes.” Blush crept into her cheeks when she bowed before him and took her place in the dance. Talking to this woman was his own version of torture. It was why he never talked to women; naturally, they never really had anything intelligent to say.



The dance ended a painful two minutes later, leaving Nicholas displeased with his new acquaintance. She was—what was the word? Oh yes, boring. He bowed deeply, taking her hand in his own and brushed a light kiss across her glove. Her hand trembled at his touch. He controlled the urge to smile. Had it really been so long ago that he had been the famous rake of the ton? Taking innocent girls into darkened rooms and locking the doors behind him. Now that he was really thinking on it, the girls he took pleasure in were hardly innocents. They were basically begging him with their eyes to bed them, not that it gave him any right to do so. He hadn’t truly known then what it was like to be religious or a strong believer in a higher power. Most of the ton looked at Christianity as a cult, not realizing it was the one true way to Salvation. Since his days frolicking around with married and unmarried women of the ton, he had come to realize it was better that he not give into the lustful desires of man.



No, he would be like the disciples. He would stay single and donate his money to charity whenever possible. Controlling his impulses was never his strong suit, but in the past year he found it easier and easier if he just stayed away from the more tempting of the female sex. They were, after all, extremely frivolous. Were the debutante balls not mere examples of the idiocy of the ton? Families spent fortunes in the name of their daughters’ debuts, hoping to find them a good match. Many of them aimed for viscounts, earls, and even dukes, though the last were extremely hard to come by these days. Most dukes were overweight, over-brandied versions of Nicholas’ own grandfather and not the marriageable type. It didn’t stop the mothers from pursuing the match, though it should have. They still threw their young girls at men twice their ages for a title. The whole thing made him ill. He may have a reputation, but at least he didn’t marry for money. Not that he needed it.



The Earl of Renwick had enough money to support more than one wife and a mistress, even if they all had children and houses of their own. He had a thriving mercantile business as well as old money that, thanks to his ancestors, continued to double and triple with the years. It seemed the more money he gave away to charity, the more money he had. It was an endless pursuit. At one point, he thought to bankrupt himself just so he could be free of the sins of his youth, not that it was all that long ago.



He sighed and walked to the edge of the dance floor. Sir Belverd was waiting for him with a smirk on his face.



“How old was that one?”



Lord Renwick held back a smile. “Oh, I believe this is her first season. She can’t be more than one and seven.”



Sir Belverd took a sip of champagne. “It seems they just keep getting younger and younger.”



“Or we keep getting older,” Nicholas finished.



Belverd chuckled. “Yes. Well, my friend, at least some of us have a mind to settle down. What are you now? Almost past your thirtieth year and you still have no wife or children?”



Nicholas hated this type of conversation. He knew Belverd meant well; after all, Belverd had married the most chaste and wonderful woman in the entire ton. Men with his luck had natural bragging rights.



“Marriage isn’t for me,” he answered, putting his own champagne down. It had suddenly gone dry in his mouth. He knew he was lying to himself saying marriage wasn’t for him, but he just couldn’t see a way where lust and love met in the middle. If he ever did marry, he would want her to be innocent enough to not push him past his physical limitations, and sweet enough to be a good mother. It was a nearly impossible find, considering his present company. Plus, any good Christian woman would be disgusted by his past. He didn’t deserve anyone good and didn’t desire to marry anyone as blemished as he.