The Scoundrel's Lover by Jess Michaels

false as they likely sounded.
    But Claybrook gifted her with a very kind smile. “Indeed, they are. And yet, is that the worst thing in the world?”
    Annabelle swallowed hard. The earl seemed sincere in that comment that all but dismissed the Flynn reputation. Was this possibly a man who could overlook her name and actually see her ? It was hard to tell at this early stage. But his answer gave her a slender reed of hope.
    One that continued as they strolled around the room. She knew eyes were on her, but she managed to talk with Claybrook about everything from the weather to the current state of the newspapers. And though she had to fight not to talk too much or be too bright or show her true self, when they found themselves near the punch bowl a half an hour later, she had to admit it had been a very good conversation, at least in terms of husband-catching.
    Claybrook gave her a nod. “Thank you again for this time, Miss Flynn. I certainly hope I shall see you again soon.”
    She smiled at his compliment and nodded. “I would very much like that, Lord Claybrook.”
    He bowed and said his good nights before he walked away, leaving her to watch him. And she did watch, unable to keep herself from judging his form as he walked away.
    When her gaze settled on his slim, flat backside, she turned her face and her cheeks flamed. Great God, what was she doing? Looking at him like that? So intimately and improperly?
    Except she had, and her stomach churned a little. Claybrook was very nice thus far, yes. And he was titled and completely respectable. But there was no spark there. When she examined him, even inappropriately, she couldn’t say that there was a desire that grew in her.
    Unlike when she looked at Marcus Rivers.
    Spinning around to face the refreshment table, Annabelle gritted her teeth. What was she doing thinking about that man ? Hadn’t she spent two whole days purging all thoughts of the club owner from her mind? How dare he intrude upon this place?
    This place, where she belonged.
    Except it didn’t really feel like that. And she feared it never would.
     

     
    “Rafe didn’t want to come in with you?”
    Annabelle jumped at the words called out to her from the parlor and poked her head into the dim room to find her mother curled up on a settee, reading by candlelight.
    “Rafe wanted to get home to Serafina,” she said as she entered the room and pressed a kiss to her mother’s forehead. “I didn’t know you would still be up.”
    A smile was her response. “I will likely always wait up for you, it is an old habit.”
    “It must have been a dreadful one when my brothers still spent their nights here,” Annabelle teased.
    When her mother didn’t return her smile, Annabelle took a seat next to her.
    “What is it?” Annabelle asked.
    Her mother shifted. “Nothing at all. Tell me, how was your night? A coming out. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend, but your brother’s title gives you far more influence in those circles than I could, I think.”
    “I would still like you to come with us one night,” Annabelle assured her. “If only to see the finery. And my night was…well, it was a debut, I suppose.”
    Her mother frowned. “It did not go as planned?”
    Annabelle stared at the fire for a moment. “I was not asked to dance by anyone besides Rafe, I’m afraid. I was watched by a few men. And a handful spoke to me when I was in the company of other ladies. But only one man approached me in any way that could indicate interest.”
    “Only one? What ninnies.”
    Annabelle laughed. “There were a great many of those, yes. But it was the Earl of Claybrook who came to talk to me especially.”
    “He didn’t ask you to dance?” her mother pressed.
    Annabelle shifted. When said like that, it sounded a bit like a set down. “No,” she said slowly. “He didn’t. But we took a long turn about the room and talked. Perhaps next time he will ask me to dance.”
    Her mother pushed to her feet and walked