Dancing With A Devil (33 page)

“
But a moment ago you said you weren’t thirsty when Thortonberry asked you.”

Whitney smiled gently. “I’m thirsty now.”

Grumbling, Mr. Sutherland departed and Whitney leaned close to Audrey. “I thought Lord Thortonberry didn’t inspire passion in you.”

“
Hush,” Audrey hissed, wishing she’d not confessed her concern to Whitney.

“
No one can hear us,” Whitney whispered. “Has something changed?”

Audrey nodded. “Yes, my outlook. After two weeks of being courted by seven men, I know without a doubt Lord Thortonberry is the only one I could stand being married to. And I think I felt a stirring of something that might be akin to passion tonight when he read me a poem he’d written for me.”

“
Really? A poem inspired passion? It must have been a truly magnificent poem.” Whitney smirked before she started giggling.

Audrey smacked her friend on the arm. “Do be serious.”

“
All right, I’m terribly sorry. So you now feel passion for the man.”

“
I said possibly a stirring of what might be passion.” Rather she’d felt more like she did when she had her snuggly nightrail on―
comfortable
. Being with Lord Thortonberry was easy. He accepted her rather opinionated views, didn’t seem to want to change her and had professed on several occasions that his heart belonged to her. That was more than she had a right to hope for at this point.

Whitney stilled and her expression grew serious. “Dearest, I hate to see you marry a man who only might
possibly
stir passion in you. I do so wish for you to have a marriage like mine.”

An odd knot twisted in Audrey’s stomach. “I wanted that too, but you know perfectly well the only man I ever loved was not only possibly, mysteriously already married, but told me quite plainly he only wanted to offer me a marriage of convenience. He did not love me and clearly never thought he would.” Her words choked her. In a desperate attempt to regain her control, she bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. It worked, blessedly. Swallowing hard, she continued. “I’ll never marry a man who cannot love me. My father was incapable of love, and look what happened to my mother. No. Thank. You.”

An intense almost secretive expression crossed Whitney’s face before disappearing. “What if Sin comes back from France and announces he no longer has a wife?”

Whitney’s question caused gooseflesh to cover Audrey’s arms. Summoning her will, she shook her head. “What-ifs will not save me or my aunt from starving. Besides, Trent may come back a widower, but I refuse to marry a man who harbors secrets and cannot love me. Let’s do talk about something else. Trent is not here, and Lord Thortonberry is making his way back toward me.”

Whitney startled her by gripping her arm. “Dearest, I think you’re wrong about what no longer having wife would possibly do to Sin.” Whitney’s gaze left Audrey’s face and moved to where her husband had been looking earlier.

“
Don’t tell me your latest suitor for me is here,” Audrey grumbled, irritated her friend was not squarely on her side when it came to Trent.

Whitney’s hold on Audrey’s arm increased. “Don’t be upset with me. I would have warned you, but I was afraid you’d do something rash like flee.”

Foreboding swept across Audrey’s skin, leaving gooseflesh all over her body and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “If you tell me Trent has returned and is here and you failed to mention it, I’ll scream.”

“
Do so softly, then. Your Lord Thortonberry approaches from the right, as you said, and Sin is coming up fast behind you.”

Audrey whirled around and froze. The dreams of Trent that had haunted her and teased her had not done her memory of him justice. Or was it possible he’d become more beautiful in his time away? She laughed nervously. Beautiful was really an odd word to describe a man, but no other word would do. Trent strode toward her, clad head to toe in black. His thick tawny-gold hair contrasted strikingly with his inky clothes. His hair was longer than he’d ever worn it, touching his shoulders and blowing back with the force of his stride. The closer he came, the more erratic her pulse grew.

Five feet. Four. Three. Two. One. She gulped and gulped again. The emotions she’d worked so hard to suppress, the ones she’d thought she had firm control over, broke through the surface of her mind and threatened to drown her in longing. He stopped in front of her, all vital, raw male power, illustrated by the way his broad shoulders strained against the expensive material of his jacket. The shadow of golden beard on his cheeks gave him an even manlier aura if that was possible. His full sensual lips, curled in the sardonic smile she remembered so well. He took her arm, which hung limply at her side, and drew her hand to his lips.

Her mind screamed at her to pull away but she was slow, made sluggish by the shock of seeing him once again. His warm lips pressed against the thin material of her gloves. No silk could hold back the heat that burned within him. She felt singed. Claimed. And foolish. Damn him. With a quick jerk, she tugged her hand away. “I see being shot in the arm did nothing to dim your presumptuous nature. In the future you should make sure a lady doesn’t mind you kissing her hand.”

“
Ah, but I knew you wouldn’t welcome my kisses and I was determined to give you one, one way or the other.”

He smiled lazily, his gaze raking over her ever so slowly and giving her the distinct impression he was undressing her with his mind. Blasted fiend. His gaze lingered for a moment on the deep V of her dress that she had argued showed to much of her attributes. His eyes met hers before he turned to Whitney. “What’s the meaning of this?” He actually waved a hand at Audrey’s décolletage. A searing blush, if you could describe the heat of what she was feeling as simply a blush, covered her face, chest and neck.
Wonderful
. She was splotchy and the entire
ton
would know it thanks to the very insistent Madame Marmont for refusing to bring the neckline of this gown up to a more respectable level.

Whitney gave Trent the most innocent wide-eyed look. If Audrey wasn’t so confused, angry and flustered, she would have laughed at her friend’s obvious ploy. Whitney let out a long huff, then spoke. “You said have a new wardrobe created for her to ease her transition back into Society, and that’s what I did.”

Whitney’s words rang in Audrey’s ears. Trent had been the one to commission the dresses she was wearing? The hats. The gloves. The unmentionables. She blinked at him, her heart racing with the revelation. “You were the one who paid for these gowns.”

His gaze pierced her as he nodded. “Yes. I knew you probably wouldn’t be able to afford new gowns and I wanted to make things a bit easier for you when you returned to Society from your mourning period. I asked Whitney to order the gowns and let you think they were from her.”

She furrowed her brow. “But I thought they were from Lord Thortonberry.”

A cold expression settled on Trent’s face and turned the warmth in his green gaze to iciness. “Why would you think that?”

Audrey glanced at Whitney, who looked positively sheepish. “Why did you have Madame Marmont lead me to believe the wardrobe came from a man?”

Trent let out a soft expletive beside her but said nothing more. Whitney tilted her chin up. Audrey recognized the gesture. It was the one her friend used when she’d decided she was stubbornly right, no matter what. Whitney drew her shoulders back. “Because I assumed you would conclude they came from Sin and possibly make you a little less angry at him when he returned a widower from France.”

She turned to Trent. “Are you a widower?” Dear heaven, she wasn’t supposed to care. It didn’t change a thing, yet when he nodded, she couldn’t deny the bubble of happiness that expanded in her chest. She was a fool when it came to him. She pursed her lips and tried to think of an appropriate, impersonal response. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

Trent quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t be.”

Audrey felt her lower jaw drop open. “You don’t sound very sad for a man who just returned from confirming the wife he thought was dead, then learned may well be alive, is truly and actually dead. Or is it that she might resurrect again?” Audrey gasped and covered her mouth. Why on earth had she said such an awful thing? Thankfully, Trent did not look devastated. He appeared amused. Still…she lowered her palm. “I’m terribly sorry. That was uncalled for, no matter our past.”

He touched her elbow for a brief moment, and the heat of his touch seeped into her skin and awakened a longing in the pit of her belly. Her muscles cramped and her heart thumped slow and hard. She couldn’t breathe properly until the moment his fingers fell away. He stepped a bit closer, so the heat radiating from his body surrounded her. “She is truly gone. I’m not as heartless as you must think.”

“
I think any man who doesn’t seem to mourn the loss of his wife is indeed heartless. Then again, knowing you as I now do, it shouldn’t surprise me.”

Trent’s jaw tensed. Audrey counted the rapid beats of his pulse. He raked a hand through his hair before speaking. “You’re just going to have to trust me and let me prove to you I have a heart.”

“
Trust you!” Audrey laughed and was about to blast him with her anger when Lord Thortonberry arrived by her side, looking as irritated as she felt.

He held the glass of punch he’d gone to get some twenty minutes prior out to her. “I’m sorry I took so long. He”―Lord Thortonberry shot a scathing look to his side where the Duke of Dinnisfree had saddled up to him―“detained me with ridiculous inquiries and refused to let me take my leave.”

“
Say, that’s rather rude,” the Duke of Dinnisfree exclaimed with obvious mock indignation before exchanging a glance with Trent.

Audrey’s anger heated more. She didn’t know what Trent was up to, but whatever it was she suspected it somehow involved the duke keeping Lord Thortonberry occupied. Audrey gritted her teeth. She was upset with Lord Thortonberry for lying to her, or rather omitting the truth. The man had never really said he’d bought her the gowns. He just hadn’t denied it when she’d assumed it. But she’d hear what he had to say for himself later.
In private
.

She owed him that after everything else he’d done for her. As for Trent, if he thought he could simply appear back into her life and smile that dazzling, rakish smile at her and she’d swoon at his feet and do whatever he wanted, he was even more pompous than she’d previously known.

Glaring at Trent, she spoke. “I will never trust you again.”

The pain that stole across his features and hardened them further almost took the wind out of the set-down she had in her mind. She had to press on. If she allowed him close to her, she was afraid of what would happen. “Do not seek me out in Society. Do not buy me things. In fact, forget you know me.”

His eyes glittered dangerously as if he might explode at any moment. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Perhaps she should have told him those things in private? It was eerily quiet around them, despite the fact that she saw people dancing so knew music had to be playing. No one spoke as Trent stepped so close to her one would have thought he was about to embrace her. Her stomach knotted and her head swam. He leaned down and pressed his lips close to her ear. “I could never, for even a second, forget I knew you. Your image dances in my dreams, toys with my thoughts and makes me contemplate doing things I swore I never would.”

She inhaled sharply at his silken words but somehow managed to force herself to step away. Trembling, she slipped her arm into Lord Thortonberry’s. He glanced at her with hooded eyes yet pressed her elbow close to his waist. “Do you care to dance?”

Surely he jested. Of course, he had no idea she now knew he’d lied to her about buying the gowns. She shook her head. “Would you mind helping me find my aunt? I wish to leave. I feel a megrim coming on.” That was the absolute truth.

He nodded and with a farewell to Whitney, Audrey turned with him away from a glowering Trent. Her head hurt. But her heart…
Blast her heart
. Despite having told Trent to forget he ever knew her, she couldn’t forget that he’d worried enough about her he’d commissioned a wardrobe be made to ease her way back onto Society. If she were a foolish woman
that
might be enough to inspire her to hope the man actually did love her and simply didn’t realize it yet.

Of course, she was not so foolish. His not telling her he had once been married could be explained away by the fact that he’d thought his wife dead, and from his reaction it seemed the marriage had been painful. But the marriage had also been secret, according to Whitney, and Audrey couldn’t fathom how the man could ever explain that. Not that she cared. She didn’t. She was curious, of course, but that was different than caring.

By the time she and Lord Thortonberry found her aunt and settled in their carriage, Audrey’s head was truly pounding, so there was no acting involved when she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She could feel Lord Thortonberry staring at her from across the carriage, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when he spoke.

“
Do you think you’ll be well enough tomorrow to still attend the unveiling of Lord Lionhurst’s newest piece of art?”

Audrey tensed and slowly opened her eyes to find her aunt staring at her inquisitively. She wasn’t about to confront Lord Thortonberry about why he’d lied to her, with her aunt watching on. “I promised Gillian I would be attending, so, yes,
I’ll
be going. Why don’t you call on me at ten? I’d like to speak with you on a matter.”