Drunk men were always such fun.

It seemed Blake's evening was finally livening up. Although the source of it was not something scandalous, it was at least entertaining, which could not be said for the rest of the night.

A small scuffle near Blake caused him to place his wine glass down on the table that was dripping with food, the red liquid sloshing marginally over the rim. He approached the pair involved, to see what the matter was. He was greeted by the sight of a balding, short, rotund man, shaking a servant by his shoulders.

"You misfit. I asked you for a bottle of the strongest wine you have, not a cup of this fancy champagne. Can you not hear? Should I box in your ears?"

Blake stepped in between them, prying the lord's hands off the servant's body. "My lord, please do not hassle the poor lad and continue to make a spectacle out of yourself. This is a ball, not a tavern to consume a bottle of strong drink. If you wish to do that, might I suggest," he beckoned another servant," someone to take you home, so you may consume how many ever bottles of wine you wish." The servant, understanding Blake's words, departed to call a carriage.

The rotund men tried to stare Blake down and intimidate him, but his height proved to be an unfortunate factor. Harrumphing, he left the scene and the servant beside Blake bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lord. I am in your debt." He then scurried off.

"I see you are busy saving people in distress. I have found ladies like valiant, brave, courageous men." James Addington slid next to Blake.

"You said the same word in three different ways, James. Women also these days, do like their men to have a modicum of intelligence." Blake turned to flash his friend a grin, the Duke of Buckhaven.

"Ooh, you are smart too, huh, and chastising me for not being the same? How have you not been married yet, for you do possess qualities of an ideal husband?"

"Like your rakish self, I am enjoying life."

James sipped his drunk. "Speaking of, I was surprised to see you gone from Madam's house when I awoke from between...three women and one man? I am unsure. It was all a tangle of limbs. Madam told me your father had come calling and you were here because he forced you to be."

"Naturally, you decided to stop your pleasurable pursuits and accompany me."

"Indeed. Anything for a friend, especially one that turns into a feral dog at balls. I must temper you, else you will be flying off the rails, and a poor woman will be scared out of her wits. And speaking of women, have you seen the debutante this ball is for? I saw her as I entered and she is a catch. "

The frown was on Blake's face and growl out of his lips before he could stop it.

"Set your cap on her, have you?" James snickered, quirking his sandy eyebrows that matched his shaggy, golden hair.

Silence greeted him.

James jostled Blake with his shoulder. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Blake. Frowning is not going to get you any lady, much less Lady Sophia Brighton. I am curious. How are you going to manage to get her in your bed?"

"I never said I was doing anything with her, James. She just caught my eye. She is very beautiful, and something in me felt that she would be an intelligent woman to have a conversation with, thus my slight infatuation. I heard a few people gossiping tonight she was a blue stocking, a lover of books. A brainless woman doesn't read."

James gave him a look and Blake shrugged. "What?"

"What happened to the Blake 'I wish to live life,' from an hour ago? Talking about a woman and her assets such as intelligence, means you wish to know her, beyond the bed, which I have never seen you do."

"People can change, and I can do what I wish to. Besides, I do read quite often—just as not as much as I follow other pursuits. But I needn't defend myself to you. Go away, James. Stop bothering me. Go find some woman to play with."

James pouted, running his fingers through his golden locks. "Why? Do not want to see the handsome face of mine? Are you jealous that I will stop this campaign of yours and the woman in question will see me and fall for me, and not you?"

Blake rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Wouldn't that be your most desirable wish? No, I am not jealous, just annoyed. Please leave, James."

James' eyes glittered. "Someone is in a mood. You know what, I think I will go somewhere else. I think I am going to dance with the woman of honor herself."

Blake bit his tongue before he could cry a hoarse 'no.' Despite hating dances, he could not make himself hate the woman it was hosted for. Hate was rather the exact opposite of the emotions he had felt when he saw her.

And though he knew he should not lust after someone who he could not possibly have any kind of relationship with, other than marriage which Blake was most assuredly not ready for, he could not tear his narrowed gaze away from her as she had danced with every man in the room. Whenever she smiled, his own spirits had lifted and the entire world had seemed to glow even brighter.

"There you go with the frowning again." James cut in.

"I am thinking."

"Of what?" James smirked.

"James..." Blake warned and James threw his hands up in surrender.

"Balls and your charming father always make you so dreary."

Blake ignored him, a certain raven-haired woman flying through his thoughts again.

Beautiful and intelligent. A dangerous combination Blake should vow to stay away from, but he could not.

"Nonetheless, you have raised no cry of protest and so I shall proceed to dance with tonight's honorable debutante," James taunted as he snapped his fingers in front of Blake's face, effectively dragging him out of his own mind. James' pools of brownish-gold eyes were gleaming with wickedness as if he knew what precisely Blake had been dreaming of.

Blake bristled. "All right. Go. I have got no issue."

James' laughter echoed in Blake's ears as he walked away. Blake watched as he bowed in front of Sophia Brighton, kissing her fingertips. He tilted his head a bit, his eyes regarding Blake with a calculated gleam, making sure he saw the movement.

That bastard.

He hissed between his teeth before he caught himself. James was doing this just to get him worked up and when he looked at his closest friend who was currently spinning Sophia around, a knowing grin met him. Checkmate, it taunted him. James had always enjoyed spurring him along.

Blake narrowed his eyes when James bowed his head and laughed at something Sophia said, his brown eyes twinkling. Blake knew that whatever she said had probably not even been of a humorous nature, but James was doing it just to prod Blake into erupting. He was going to wring his friend.

He blinked. Where had that come from? The jealousy that slightly pulsed through him caught him offbeat and he shook his head. He needed to relax. James was getting under his skin much too easily. This ball was getting under his skin too easily.

Turning to his side, he walked towards the refreshments table to get his abandoned wine glass, but his way was suddenly blocked by a pretty, voluptuous brunette who was fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Lady Bossley.

He tried to sidestep and walk away from her, but the crowd was like the bars of jail and he could find no opening to squeeze through. He could only stand there as she slyly strutted up to him, rubbing her rather large breasts against his arms. She used his body as a shield to pry away watchful eyes, turning him so they faced the wall, and his back was to the throng of people.

It worked. His towering frame barely drew any glances and he groaned. Why couldn't people notice him, when he wanted them to do so? And why were so many women cornering him the one day he was in a particularly sour temperament?

His mouth pulled into a scowl. He was not in the mood for her, or for anyone who came up to him. The ball, his father, James, seeing a woman he could not have- all of it had ruined his evening. He would leave, as soon as some other guests set the precedent.

In addition, as much he loved it all, the woman, and the games he realized in a stark moment of clarity that wanted a thrill of the chase, someone who would make him chase after her, instead of the other way around like it had always been. If he could find someone worthy of his chase.

But that woman was not Lady Bossley.

"Greetings, handsome," she cooed. Blake returned her greeting with a grimace. He already regretted that one drunken night where she had wooed him into her bed. Or had he wooed her in his?

"Greetings, Lady Bossley," he forced out, searching for a way out of this mess. Her fingers curled around his arms, her vice-like grip uncomfortable even through layers of clothing. She rubbed her body against him, her goods bared to his eyes. Usually, that would have been enough for Blake to rush off and fulfill his pleasures for the night, but nothing stirred in him for her.

"Want to go somewhere quiet? Somewhere we can be alone?" she whispered, her blue eyes brimming to the top with unconcealed desire. She threw her dark hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flair, showing off the lean curve of her neck.

He should just take her offer. She looked similar to the debutante. He could just use her to get Lady Brighton out of his mind...but he couldn't make himself to do so.

From the corner of his eye, he could spot James leaning against the wall. He was finished with his dance with Sophia and was now watching his friend grasped under the talons of a desperate woman. Blake beckoned him with his eyes to save him, but James being the bastard he was, just smirked and wagged his fingers in casual dismal.

Lady Bossley continued to flirt with him for several moments but Blake did not deign to reply. She did not seem to get the hint either. Finally, feeling some inkling of pity for his friend, James called out, "Lord Herrick!"

Blake heaved a grateful sigh. "I can't tonight, my lady. I have duties to attend to," he mumbled, tilting his chin towards James. She turned around, a fire burning in her eyes to reprimand the man that was stealing Blake away from her. Blake took that opportunity to slip out of her grasp, marching straight past James, not bothering to thank him.

He could hear James howling with laughter a few seconds later. It took every cell in his body to restrain himself from parading back and pounding that arrogant face. His rage increased by another notch. He would have to release it soon, some way or the other. Perhaps punching James would be an ideal situation.

"Blake. I am sorry, dear friend. Please do not go." James called after him and the people surrounding the pair shot them a disgusted glance. James gave them his winning smile.

Blake ignored him. Escaping to another corner of the room that was littered with people, he leaned against the wall, veiling himself out of everyone's sight. Suddenly, a bright whip of black locks caught his eyes and he straightened.

Sophia.

Even in the throng of a crowd, she had been unmissable, with her beautiful pure white gown and rubies that adorned her neck. But as she twirled like a top, mere feet away from him, he could see that she was even more stunning, a beauty that could not possibly go unnoticed.

She looked up, her smile wide and beautiful and his breath caught. Their eyes met briefly once more and that smile slightly fell. Then, she was whisked away from his sight again. It took him several moments to realize that he had not breathed and he let out a large gasp, forcing air down his lungs.

"You should dance with her," the Duchess of Carlton whispered from behind him. Blake started and looked at her in surprise, blinking rapidly.

"I don't really dance, your grace," Blake replied as politely as he could. He could not very well spit in her face and say dances were rubbish, though it almost spilled out of his lips before he bit his tongue.

"Well, that's nonsense really, but quite fixable because Sophia does dance. I have seen you staring at her for quite some time. Might as well acquaint yourself with her. You didn't introduce yourself to her. This is the least you could do," the Duchess of Carlton declared promptly, sneering. Before he could object, she waved Sophia over as soon as the dance finished. She walked over to them with her head bowed. She curtsied in front of him, bending gracefully, but faltering as she rose.

Blake's lips quirked with amusement.

"My lord."

He nodded politely in return, though every cell in his body was screaming at him to run, to flee. He knew it was just a dance he was being condemned to, but this woman, even from afar, had done queer things to him and he did not like it one bit. He did not want to associate himself with her at all, yet fate and the Duchess of Carlton decreed otherwise.

"Lady Sophia Brighton, this is Viscount Herrick, heir of the Marquess of Alton. My lord, this is Lady Sophia Brighton, daughter of the Earl of Conway," the Duchess announced formally, though it held a slight note of a distasteful superiority and smugness.

"How do you do, my lady?" Blake murmured in a hushed undertone, his voice husky and deep. He bent down low and kissed the top of one of Sophia's hands. She immediately reddened, her skin turning a lovely rosy pink.

"I am faring well, my lord." She demurely glanced up at him with hooded eyes and Blake froze.

Big, beautiful, and dark lashes framed her crystal bluish-violet eyes. Her nose was small and pointed yet it suited her round and small face. But what caused him to inhale sharply were her lips. They look positively plump to nibble on, pink, full and soft and thoughts of kissing her suddenly teetered at the edge of his thoughts. Hot, delicious wicked notions unwontedly surged through Blake's mind and he groaned internally, little sparks of desire blooming through him.

Feeling desire for a beautiful woman was not something new to him, but lusting after her in seconds of meeting her was unusual indeed. He should not even be thinking about her like that having desire for a pure, undefiled woman...

He should have made that vow and kept it.

God, but how he wanted her then!

Both the women continued to stare at him, waiting for him to take the lead and ask Sophia to dance, without realizing the nature of the emotions that were flooding through him in that very moment.

Damn his father for bringing him here. Damn the Duchess of Carlton. Damn Fate.

He even sensed what appeared to be a challenge that twinkled in Sophia's eyes, daring him to refuse her. Clearly, she appeared shy on the outside, but something in him realized he could play a very dangerous game with a very intriguing lady. And that intelligence, that sense of challenge... that confirmed his assumption about what he had presumed about her and Blake had always liked sparring verbally and intellectually.

Maybe this was who he was waiting for, after all.

However, on the outside, all he could do was gulp nervously and ask, "Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Sophia Brighton?"

"Yes, it would be my pleasure, my lord."

It was the dance that started or perhaps ended it all.

Soon. She would be his forever soon.

Darius sipped the wine, the red tainting his lips. This entire debutante ball was a façade, a fallacy, only hosted to maintain public appearances. The contract between his father and Sophia's was being drawn up that very moment, to be signed any time now.

Darius' father had broached the union of Darius and Sophia years ago, and the Earl of Conway had agreed, although both thought it best not to proceed with it legally until Sophia came of age. But the Duke of Cambury had paid the Earl's debts occasionally, to remind him where his loyalties should lie- with Darius and himself, to make sure he did not sell Sophia to anyone else.

Darius did not bother with the fine details. That was his father's job. All he had to do was be excited that he could have her. That pure, divine, virginal woman, all for him. An angel of the Lord.

He hid his smile in his glass, as happiness shot through him, filling him with insurmountable energy.

However, when he recalled their meeting earlier, he clenched his teeth together. Sophia had not accepted his invitation for the walk and been very disinterested. She had not fallen at his feet, as he wanted her to and like how other prior women had. He needed a compliant wife. The Earl of Conway had assured she was easily moldable, obedient.

It would not matter, for when she was his, he could do whatever he wished to with her and no one could raise a cry of alarm. He would make her like him, obey him if she wasn't so already. Darius Shaw always loved a conquest.

All the men in here, that had danced and gazed at her, hoping to win her hand in marriage? It was all a large jest, a false scene. None of them would have her, but it was amusing to watch them believe they could. It would indeed be even more pleasurable to watch as all their faces fell when she was draped on his arm, not theirs a few weeks from now. The prospect of shocking everyone, seeing everyone's faces fall, and hearts crumble, elated him.

The man Sophia was dancing with at that moment, Lord Herrick, seemed to be enamored with her as well. Darius had never liked that man. He was like Darius, getting his fair chance at women, a rake, but he was always so...moralistic. They had crossed paths at this brothel once when Darius had paid a woman less for 'inadequate' service, and he had been there. Blake had started an entire storm up, demanding he give the whore her worth or he would take matters into his own hands.

Yes, Lord Darius would be very delighted to see Lord Herrick not get the pure gem that was Sophia.

Darius smiled one last grin, placed his wine glass down and departed, humming to himself.

A/N: Darius and Blake share a few pleasurable *wink wink* interests, but I hope you can see how they are different as well, and their approach towards others.

What did you think of James? I had fun writing him :)

Readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter! Be sure to vote, comment and share it with others! Every single thing means the world to me! I love you all!