Dancing With A Devil (6 page)

“
Don’t let what Lord Clarington said upset you. The man is an idiot who incorrectly assumes women are not bright.” A devilish look brightened his eyes. “Enough about Lord Clarington. I want to talk about you.”

“
Me? What about me?”

His fingers curled tighter around her gloved hand as his gaze bore into hers. “To begin with, I can honestly say I’ve never seen a woman who looks more beautiful than you do at this moment.”

She could have been dancing in the clouds for as light as his words made her feel. “Thank you. I did not have a new gown to wear, so I was rather self-conscious…” Her words trailed off at the abrupt change of expression on his face. His playful smile disappeared and his mouth opened slightly. Perhaps she should not have spoken so freely. She missed a step as nerves set upon her. “Normally, I would have had new gowns. We are not poor. Father is angry with me, so he is punishing me. I’m sure in his eyes I deserve it. I do try to be as he wishes, but I simply cannot marry a man I cannot countenance.” She clamped her jaw shut when his right eyebrow shot high. Now she had gone and done it with her nonsensical babbling.

He threw his head back and laughed as he twirled them around and pulled her closer to him, so that their bodies nearly touched. When his eyes met hers, his open, intense gaze made her knees weak. He pressed his mouth close to her ear. “You never fail to astonish me. I’ve never met a woman quite like you, or at least how I think you are. I know firsthand you can be cunning and lie like an expert when the need suits you, yet I’ve yet to see your lies be any that would harm another. And take just now―”

She was not sure if he was complimenting her or not, but she was thrilled he had clearly given her enough thought to consider this much about her. “My gown?”

“
Yes. I do not know a woman who would admit that their gown was old, or they felt self-conscious or that their father was angry with them because they were willfully disobeying his commands. Yet you admitted all that, as if it was the natural course of conversation.”

Her face flushed with pleasure and just a bit of embarrassment. “I did not say exactly that I was willfully disobedient.”

Trent grinned, then frowned. “You are confounding me and making me question things I have no wish to question.”

Her heart lurched. “And that is bad?”

A deep crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I like to stick to what I have planned.”

“
Did you plan to come here, seek me out and dance with me?”

“
No,” he said, his tone slow and careful. “I had not planned it at all. Then I became worried about you, so I decided to seek you out and warn you. When I arrived and saw you, standing by the balcony”―his gaze traveled down the length of her gown and ever so slowly climbed back up to her face―“well, let me say your beauty has a way of making me forget myself. I could not pass up the chance to dance with you. And when I overheard Clarington being so rude, I wanted to rescue you, though thinking back upon it and the way you matched him comment for comment, you did not need my help.” As the waltz ended, he brushed a finger against her hair before dropping his hand away and offering her his elbow.

Her heart thundered painfully. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, wishing the dance, his admissions and this night would never end. Yet not ten feet away, her brother stood with Lord Thortonberry, poised to snatch the moment away from her. Richard waved at her to join him. She bit her lip and slowed her steps.

Trent caught her gaze, then stopping, turned to face her. The deep crease between his eyebrows appeared once more and a tic pulsed at the left side of his jaw. “How well do you know Lord Thortonberry?”

Of all the things she had been expecting him to say, that was not one of them. “I’ve known him all my life. Why?”

“
Do you trust him?”

Whatever was this about? “Of course. He is my brother’s closest friend and our neighbor.”

“
That may be, but sometimes those we think we know the most are the ones we know the least.”

She had no idea what he was trying to tell her, but she did not like the glassy look in his eyes. On top of that, the music for the supper dance had started and Lord Thortonberry was striding toward them with an angry frown. She squeezed Trent’s arm. “Who is it you are telling me I should not trust?”

“
Lord Thortonberry. He consorts with questionable characters, men as well as light skirts. He’s not appropriate company for you to keep, especially in light of the fact that you are searching for a husband and marriage of mutual affection.”

Mutual affection?
Audrey gritted her teeth, thinking. Could Trent not even say the word “love”? Whitney had told her previously that he had been madly in love with some Frenchwoman who had killed herself, but she did not seem to know much more than that. Maybe the woman had broken his heart. As much as she hated to think he had loved another woman with such devotion she could see the good in the knowledge. If he had loved fully, then that would make him capable of the deep love she wanted. Another less pleasant thought occurred to her. “How do you know what sort of characters Lord Thortonberry consorts with, including light skirts?” Right as the words left her mouth, she realized in her burgeoning anger, she had forgotten to whisper.

Lord Thortonberry stepped next to Trent with a smile at her and a hostile gaze for Trent. “Yes, Davenport, do tell us how you know what sort of characters you think I consort with.”

If Trent had been surprised at Lord Thortonberry’s sudden appearance, he did not show it in the least. His face looked made of stone. “I’ve heard rumors.” His tone, just like his face, revealed nothing.

Whatever was occurring here? Was Trent jealous? If so, that was marvelous, because it meant he liked her more than as a friend. Audrey tsked. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors.”

“
No, indeed,” Thortonberry concurred, with humor underling his words. “Besides, even if the rumors were true, Lady Audrey would never be in any danger from me. She is safe in my care, and this dance is mine, so you can go along and enjoy the rest of your night.”

When Trent’s gaze became cold and hard, a part of her reveled in his anger, though it was positively wrong of her. He was jealous! She was so incredibly happy, she could not keep the smile from her face as Lord Thortonberry led her to the dance floor.

She glanced over her shoulder as Lord Thortonberry positioned them for the cotillion and inhaled sharply. Trent had not moved and his face― There was no mistaking the hard pressed line of his lips or the angry slant of his eyes. This was turning out to be a glorious night! She forced herself to move her attention to Lord Thortonberry, only to find him frowning at her.

“
How do you know Davenport?”

Lord Thortonberry’s sharp question angered her. She already had to answer to her father and brother. She was not about to submit to questions from another, apparently disapproving, man. She raised her eyebrows at him. “I know a great many lords. I could not really say with certainty how I first met him.”

“
Cannot or will not?”

She was glad that the dance forced her to switch partners. She moved away and ended up facing Mr. Sutherland. She smiled at Whitney’s betrothed. “Good evening, Mr. Sutherland.”

“
Indeed it is, Lady Audrey. Are you having a pleasant time?”

She stepped back in time with the other dancers and came back toward him, then nodded. “I am now.”

“
Now that Davenport has arrived?”

Heat flushed her chest. “I suppose Whitney told you that I rather like her cousin?”

He nodded. “She did. And we both agree the feeling appears mutual, but I worry you will have a hard time getting Davenport to admit it. Try to be patient.”

She really wished she knew the details about the woman from France, but she certainly could not ask Mr. Sutherland. She suspected he did not know much anyway. Whitney was closer to Trent than anyone, so she would be privy to the most information. Audrey sighed. She could be as patient as a saint if she thought Trent truly cared for her but just had not admitted it to himself yet. Her father was another story, of course, but she could probably hold him off for a bit longer.

The tempo of the music rose and signaled a partner change that put her back with Lord Thortonberry. She cringed at the ridged set of his mouth. Before she could think of a different topic to discuss, other than Trent, Lord Thortonberry spoke. “Davenport is not the sort of man to marry. I do not wish to see you hurt by him.”

“
Your warning sounds more like opinion than fact. How can you know if he is the sort to marry? Is this the same way he knows you consort with unsavory characters and light skirts? Have you been listening to gossipmongers as well? If not, that leads me to the conclusion that the two of you were at a questionable club and saw each other there. If that is the case―” A hard knot formed in her throat. She did not want to think about the possibility that Trent might be bedding other women.

Lord Thortonberry jerked a hand through his hair and then let out a grunt. “No, no. I would never go to a hellfire club. You know me better than that. I suppose I am as guilty of listening to rumors as Davenport, but I only mentioned it because I care for you.”

The anger that had knotted in her throat released. She patted Lord Thortonberry on the arm. “I care for you too.” He was like a brother to her, after all. A strange look flashed in his eyes but was gone before she could read it. Left standing in uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat. “The dance has ended.”

He blinked and glanced around them. “So it has.” As the dining bell chimed, he took her by the elbow and led her off the dance floor and toward the supper room. She wanted to look back to see if Trent was still watching her, but she did not. Perhaps it was better to kindle his jealousy just a bit and not seem too desperate. With that in mind, she gave Lord Thortonberry all her outward attention, though Trent had her thoughts and her heart.

As Trent followed Audrey and Thortonberry into dinner, he made sure to keep enough distance that if either one of them happened to glance behind them, they would not catch him observing them. Not that there was much concern in that. They appeared to have eyes only for each other. He expected one of them to collide with a piece of furniture or another guest any moment now. If fate were at all kind, Thortonberry would be the one to trip and go sprawling face-first to the floor. Maybe he would twist an ankle and need to keep it elevated for the next several weeks, giving Audrey time to meet a more suitable prospect for a husband.

The scenario made Trent smile, until he imagined her married and the man caressing her hair or skin or bandying wits with her late at night under the bedcovers in the privacy of their bedchamber. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was turning into someone he did not recognize.

What the devil was wrong with him? He would never offer for her, so he could not allow himself to imagine such things. He had become a sorry excuse for an honorable man.

They abruptly stopped ahead, and he made a quick scan around the crowded supper room for the perfect place to watch Audrey without anyone noticing or bothering him. Most of the guests lingered near the refreshment table, around the high tables set up on the periphery of the room or near the warming table where footmen served the food. After a moment, Thortonberry, the bounder, slid his hand to the small of Audrey’s back and guided her toward the refreshment table.

Tension vibrated through Trent as he forced himself not to stride over there but to find a place to stand that would place him where he could observe Audrey best, in case she appeared to have need of him. Directly across from her was the terrace. Excellent. The doors to the garden stood ajar. His pulse quickened. To the right of the double doors a row of large windows with long, heavy cream curtains lined the wall from the terrace to the dining room entrance.

Trent smiled. Gold-corded ties held all the curtains back, except the ones on the last window. They hung loose in a billowing fashion. Perfect to conceal oneself. Even better was the large oil painting displayed on a wooden stand positioned partially to the side of those loose curtains. If anyone glanced at him, they could easily assume he was looking at the painting. The host, Lord Allred, was known for his love of art, after all.

Midway across the room, he spotted his cousin Gillian by the table that held the food, but luckily in deep conversation with her husband, Lionhurst. To avoid walking where they could see him, he switched directions, doubled back and made his way to the outer edge of the crowd to use the people as cover. Once at the curtains, he positioned himself directly behind the edge of them but far enough out that it was not obvious he was attempting to hide.