Page 63 of The Steel Rogue
Roe took one final step to him, aligning his shoulder next to Logan’s. “I did.”
“Yet you slipped in without being announced.” Logan’s grey eyes, a match to his own, moved to him, then flickered downward. “Not dressed, of course.”
“You expected I wouldn’t show?”
“I expected you to have my wife go through the work to throw this gala to raise funds for your orphanage and for you to manifest some excuse not to come.”
Roe scoffed. “Sienna loves doing this gala.”
“She loves you. She loves the orphanage.”
Roe’s hand went onto his brother’s shoulder. “So it appears you don’t need me in attendance after all. Which is good, since I forgot the gala was this eve.”
Logan pointed at Roe with the lip of the glass in his hand. “Hence the clothing.”
Roe shrugged. “Unfortunately.”
“Gala or not, Sienna wants to see you on occasion. I want to see you on occasion.” He noticed Torrie standing just behind Roe, hiding from the throng of people. “Who is this?”
“This is Lady Apton.”
“Lady—” Logan’s eyes widened and he looked from Torrie to Roe and back to Torrie. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
“And I, you, your grace.” Her words were barely audible over the din of the ballroom.
Roe could feel Torrie shrinking further behind him. She didn’t shrink. For all that he knew of her, she didn’t cower in a corner.
But that was what she was doing. Cowering.
His look shifted from his brother and scanned the room for threats.
Nothing but flashes of color in silk and satin from ladies in grand dresses and men with impeccable posture and tight cravats dancing or moving about the edges of the ballroom.
Silk.
Bloody hell.
He couldn’t care less what he was wearing—he never fit in with his brother’s society and he rarely tried. But Torrie knew this life, lived this life—and she was wearing a crumpled mess of a spencer jacket and skirt that hadn’t been properly cleaned in three weeks. At least they had managed baths at the last coaching inn. Small favor.
He took a step to the left, blocking her even further from the crowd.
Logan looked from Torrie to Roe, his eyes narrowing at his brother. Roe grabbed the front lapel of his jacket and flicked it slightly, then threw his eyes back toward Torrie.
Instant understanding registered in Logan’s eyes. His look lifted and scanned the room, stopping at the far corner of the space, and he lifted his hand, flicking his fingers toward him.
Within a minute, Sienna, his sister-in-law, was moving through the crush toward them, sliding with ease past person after person trying to draw her attention.
Give Sienna a mission and she looked nowhere but forward.
She rushed Roe, a ball of energy. “Robby, you made it. I barely believe it even though you’re standing in front of me.” She grabbed his arms—tight—springing to her toes and kissing him on the cheek.
“In the flesh.” He couldn’t resist her beaming smile and a grin crossed his face.
Logan moved around his wife to stand in front of Torrie, effectively shielding her from the party. Good man.
Logan set his hand on his wife’s upper arm. “Sienna, Robby has brought with him one Lady Apton.”
“Lady—” Cutting herself off, Sienna’s eyes went wide and she looked from Torrie to Roe. “Robby—how? What?” She stopped her words again, waving her hand in the air and looking directly at Torrie, leaning in with her voice low. “Welcome to our home, Lady Apton.” Sienna looked her up and down. “Do I presume correctly that you are about my size and would possibly want to borrow something from my wardrobe? A gown perhaps?”