Dancing With A Devil (12 page)

Bemusement flittered across her face and as much as he did not want to turn away, he did in time to greet her chaperone and offer a helping hand up the last step of the hill.

“
Now you help me,” the silver-haired woman muttered and pushed past him to waddle by. She plucked her hands on her hips as she faced them. “You two must slow your pace. I cannot keep up and I will not be lapse in my duties.”

“
Of course, Ms. Frompington,” Audrey replied, her voice raised.

Trent arched a questioning eyebrow at her.

Audrey inclined her head to her chaperone. “Ms. Frompington has a little trouble hearing, don’t you?” Audrey said in a loud voice.

“
You say you saw a deerling?” the woman demanded. “Is that some sort of special breed of deer?”

“
Yes, indeed,” Trent inserted with a smile.

Audrey rolled her eyes and pointed toward the ground. “I actually came up here for a purpose.”

“
Me too,” Trent said, unable to resist baiting her.

She gave him a sidelong glance and a lovely smirk that caused his chest to tighten.

“
According to Whitney, you and I are to find a pair of quizzing glasses. And I thought what better place to hide a pair of quizzing glasses than at the spot in the park with the best view.”

Admiration filled his chest. “By Jove, you are brilliant.”

“
I like to think so,” she said, humor underlying her tone.

“
Shall we?” he asked, kneeling to his haunches and patting the grass around him.

“
I’m far too old to kneel,” Ms. Frompington declared.

Trent caught Audrey covering the smile on her face. When she moved her hand, she had impressively schooled her features. “Why don’t you sit on that bench over there?” Audrey pointed to a wooden bench a few feet away that faced out toward the city below. With a nod, Ms. Frompington walked toward the seat and plopped down with her back to them.

Audrey knelt beside him, their heads almost touching. The afternoon sun shone down on her head and made the black strands of her hair gleam like a stone polished to perfection. His breath caught in his chest. The picture was perfect, except for the offending flower Thortonberry had put in her hair. Trent plucked the bud from behind her left ear.

She raised her hand to her hair and tucked the dangling strand behind her ear. “Why did you do that?”

He threw the flower to the ground. “I don’t want you taking anything from Thortonberry. What were you doing earlier with your head pressed so close to his?”

She stopped her search of the grass and gave him a sidelong glance. “Trying to see if I could make you jealous two days in a row.”

“
You say the most surprising things,” he grumbled. The devil of it was he loved that about her. She was utterly capable of artifice when needed yet somehow still seemed honest to a fault at her core. She was a contradiction, and part of him wanted to believe such honesty existed in a woman, but another part of him was attached to his vow to never allow a woman to unhinge him body and soul again.

Audrey stared at him without blinking. “I’ll take the fact I can surprise you as a compliment, though my father has assured me time and again, I should endeavor to be silent lest I drive whatever man has interest in me away with my audacious opinions.”

“
Your father is an addle pate. I love your intelligence.”

“
Do you?” A sly grin pulled at her lips.

Damned if he didn’t. “I do,” he admitted with some hesitation, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting her to think his admiration changed his stance on marriage.

“
That’s nice to hear,” she murmured with a tremor in her voice.

He flicked his gaze to Ms. Frompington, who still had her back to them. Satisfied he was not putting Audrey’s reputation in any danger, he ran a finger down her smooth cheek. “Do not let your father quash your spirit.”

Her eyes widened and she nodded.

With a will born out of silently enduring countless nights of torture in Bagne de Toulon, Trent forced himself to pull away from her. His heart squeezed in his chest as a frown flittered across her face. He needed distance. Strange thoughts invaded his head, such as not wanting to see her marry anyone else. “We better find those quizzing glasses if we are going to beat the others back to the brook and claim the prize.”

Before she responded, a sharp cry came from the park bench. Trent scrambled to his feet, helped Audrey up, and they rushed over to her chaperone, who was struggling to stand while holding a pair of crushed quizzing glasses. The woman’s face twisted in a scowl. “I shifted in my seat and sat on these!” She shook the glasses in the air. Tiny shards sprinkled down. “What sort of beetle head brings quizzing glasses to the park?”

Trent glanced at Audrey and they burst out laughing. He held his hand out to a now glaring Ms. Frompington. “I’ll take those. I do believe you inadvertently located the item Lady Audrey and I were to find for the scavenger hunt.”

Ms. Frompington nodded and set the glasses into Trent’s palm. “Excellent,” she crooned. “Now we can join the rest of the group and bid our farewells.”

“
Farewells?” Audrey asked.

Ms. Frompington nodded. “I’m injured.” The chaperone pointed to the rip in her dress close to her backside. “I believe I’ve been cut in a most delicate place. I’m afraid I need to go home, my lady, and tend to my injuries.”

“
Of course,” Audrey said with a sigh.

Trent frowned. He should be glad his goal was about to be accomplished. Audrey was going home and would be out of Thortonberry’s reach, at least for the rest of the afternoon. Yet he didn’t feel glad. Disappointment was more apt. She would be out of his reach as well and he would miss her company, which irked him immensely. He did not want to miss her presence. What he needed was a better plan of how to protect her from Thortonberry, but devil take it if he knew what that was at the moment.

Not long later Audrey strolled toward her carriage arm and arm with Whitney. Her friend pressed close. “You’re sure you have to leave?”

Audrey nodded. “Yes. Ms. Frompington is not the resilient kind. If I insist we stay, she’ll spend the rest of the day complaining about her wounded backside and making me and all of you miserable.”

Whitney frowned. “You should tell your father you need another chaperone.”

“
No. no. I truly like Ms. Frompington. Besides that, she is half-deaf which suits nicely when I’m trying to have a conversation with Trent.”

Whitney paused near Audrey’s carriage where Ms. Frompington waited. “And did you have a good conversation?”

They’d had a great deal more than good conversation, but Audrey wanted to relish her kiss with Trent a bit more before she shared it with her friend. “I think so, and I hope he thought so too.”

Whitney touched Audrey’s arm. “You do not appear overly pleased.”

Audrey nibbled on her lip, thinking on the conversation with her father. “I am pleased with the time I spent with Trent. I was hoping to have more. My time is running out to make your cousin realize he loves me. Father told me this morning that I am to accept an offer of marriage from Mr. Shelton at the Lionhursts’ ball.”

“
No!” Whitney exclaimed, gripping her arm. “Mr. Shelton is awful.”

“
I know. So you see my predicament has become dire.”

“
Lady Audrey.” Ms. Frompington popped her head out of the carriage. “I do not mean to rush you, dear, but I’m developing a terrible megrim to go with my aching wound.”

Audrey locked gazes with Whitney. “I better go.”

“
Do not worry,” Whitney whispered. “I shall think of some way to help you expedite Trent’s realization.”

Audrey nodded, though really she was not sure exactly what else they could do.

Early the next day, Audrey’s stomach fluttered as she followed Sally and the duke down the center aisle of Saint James chapel for Whitney and Mr. Sutherland’s wedding. The Primwittys’ stopped at the second row to the front to speak with Whitney’s sister Gillian and her husband Lord Lionhurst. Audrey hung back, feeling rather awkward as the two couples took turns reminiscing over how they each had met the other and their own weddings. Everyone was married or getting married.

A pang of jealousy tightened Audrey’s stomach, but she forced it away. She was thrilled Whitney was marrying the man she loved, and she refused to let envy have any part of this special day. “I’m making progress,” she muttered under her breath.

“
Making progress with what?” a deep velvet-tinged voice demanded directly behind her.

She grinned and faced Trent, her breath catching in her throat and her heartbeat tripping then speeding ahead. He looked marvelous. The dark blue frock coat did nothing to conceal the fact that he was a well-built man and she rather liked that. What she liked even better was the way his light trousers clung to the muscles of his thighs.

He flashed a rather wolfish smile at her. “Have you forgotten what it is you were making progress with?”

She blinked, whipped up her fan and tried to ward off the blush that crept up her neck. She certainly could not tell him she believed she was making progress with him. That would likely make him run in the other direction. “Progress with taking my seat,” she whispered. “I did not want to be rude and ask anyone to move.”

Trent’s eyes danced with amusement. “Allow me.” He offered her his elbow and then tapped the Duke of Primwitty on the shoulder. “Excuse us, Primwitty. We’re going to sit down.”

“
Yes, of course,” the duke replied. “I’m terribly sorry, Lady Audrey, for making you stand there.”

“
That is quite all right.” It was better than all right, she thought as Trent led her around the chatting couples and into a pew. If she had not been standing there she may not have gotten to sit by Trent. Yesterday, she had been sure she had seen something different in his eyes when he looked at her. Something akin to tenderness mixed with longing. She was certain she was breaking down some barriers. Hopefully they would crash in time to save her from her father’s plans for her.

She settled into her seat beside Trent, a thrill running through her when his hard thigh momentarily brushed hers. She could have sworn his muscles tensed upon contact, but he moved his leg so quickly it was impossible to know for certain. Did he desire her as much as she desired him? If so, she wished he would stop fighting it.

She focused her attention on the front of the church where Whitney and Mr. Sutherland would stand and tried to stop the racing of her heart. She had to get herself in hand. The vaulted ceiling let in a flood of sunlight that shone down on the hundreds of roses decorating the marble stairs leading to the altar. She inhaled deeply of the rose-petal scented air and her pulse slowed just a bit until Trent leaned so close to her his crisp scent of soap and lemon filled her nose and his heat enveloped her. “You look so serious,” he murmured. “What are you thinking about?”

She turned her head to look at him. A frown creased his brow. She wanted to be truthful and give up the game of trying to make him realize he loved her, but she was afraid. She swallowed. A little truth was better than none at all. “I was just thinking that I want to get married here as well. And I would like hundreds of roses just like this. They look so lovely and have such a wonderful scent. Don’t you think?”