Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter One

Chapter One

Present

What was she about, he thought with no small amount of annoyance, looking at him with those huge stormy eyes like an adoring idiot?

The woman in question was none other than Lady Blanche Blackwood, youngest sister of his best friend, Lord Jason Blackwood, the Marquis of Northwick. He caught her gaze once more from across the ballroom and instead of blushing and looking away demurely, the damn girl met his stare boldly and rather smiled.

He swore under his breath.

He had never met a more obstinately confident London miss than Blanche and it bothered him no end. Her lot normally twittered nervously behind their fans whenever Nathaniel passed, blinking up at him coyly with shy curiosity or shirking back into the closest wall out of sheer terror. Not Blanche though.

He cursed again.

"Did you say something?" Lord Oliver Hollingsworth asked from beside him, covering his mouth with his fist as he stifled yet another yawn. The masquerade at the Henley Rooms was not something they would normally attend, but Jason had downright insisted they do in order to show favour to the girl he was courting after his grandmother threatened to show her own snubbing of the match. God, Nathaniel had even danced with Jason's intended, not that he overly minded much. Miss Nicola Eversley was the sort of girl Blanche Blackwood should aspire to be- calm, reticent, mildly spoken, and dancing with Nicola had proven to be rather nice, if he was going to admit it. But the simple truth of it was that he did not belong in a coveted society ballroom, dancing. What a laughable phenomenon that was. Nathaniel Southill simply did not dance.

The things one did for their friends.

"No," Nathaniel said shortly to his friend. "Perhaps we should leave."

"I suppose we are having so much fun," Oliver intoned dryly, grinning crookedly. The fact that Hollingsworth was bored spoke volumes for the lack of attention of the female kind he was attracting. Indeed, Oliver was never in short supply of companionship, but the masquerade provided such a level of anonymity that he wasn't sure if he were attracting the attention of an innocent miss, or a comely widow. And Oliver Hollingsworth would never allow himself to be drawn into that trap. "Should we make a turn at the Den?"

The Den was the name of Nathaniel's gentlemen's club- a seedier establishment on the western end of London that catered to gentlemen and less honourable sorts. The term 'gentlemen' should be used very loosely in reference to the Den, a lot of the activities that occurred from within the establishment were renowned throughout London to lean on the side of racier tastes.

"Fine," Nathaniel agreed, ripping his gaze away from Blanche's, "but if you threaten to impale Barnaby again, I will revoke your membership."

"Lies," Oliver laughed. "You'd never. Barnaby would lose his before you took mine away. I am far too important to you."

"Your pockets are deeper than his," Nathaniel snorted his agreement and began to weave through the crowd of impeccably dressed and masked people, fully intending to leave and be done with this ordeal. He felt her damn eyes track his movements like a little tigress hunting down its prey. It irked him beyond measure. Blanche Blackwood could not set her cap for him. This infatuation she had with him had to end and Lord knew Nathaniel had tried.

He had been outright rude to her. He had snapped whenever she had tried to engage him in conversation, ignored her blatantly when that failed, and tonight he had deliberately snubbed her when he had offered to dance with her best friend and not her, but the woman was undeterred. He wondered what it would take for her to get the idea that he was not suitable, that he could not and will not ever love her or marry her.