The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter Five

A
ndrew arrived at Lady Colne’s ball fairly early, but not
too
early. He was instantly besieged by those of his acquaintances who attended these sorts of events. And then he was assaulted by matchmaking mamas parading their daughters in front of him as if he were at Tattersall’s surveying horseflesh. It was more than a little discomfiting.

He was pleasant but noncommittal, and his attention was divided between those seeking his company and the woman he was looking for but wasn’t sure he could find. Since he had no idea what she really looked like.

He supposed he did have at least an idea—the shape of her face, her height, the tilt of her head. Her eyes. Those lush, expressive eyes that reminded him of the forest at Darent Hall, his country seat. If he could just hear her speak, he’d know her for certain.

Because he’d dreamed she had dark blonde hair, that was what he found himself searching for. He could be wrong, however, so he told himself to study every face and form for a hint of his friend Smitty.

A tall, regal woman approached him. “Lord Dartford, how charming to see you here.” The woman was vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t completely sure how he knew her. She seemed to understand his consternation, bless her, for she said, “I’m Lady Satterfield. I was a friend of your mother’s when we were in our first Season. I came to Darent Hall a few times, but you were only a boy.”

And just like that, Andrew’s heart began to pound. Cold sweat dappled his neck. He didn’t want to feel this. Not here. Not now.

He tried to summon a pleasant response but only managed, “Yes, I remember you.” He didn’t really, and now he understood why. He generally shoved everything to do with his family as far away from his mind as possible.

She cocked her head to the side. “It’s quite all right if you don’t.” She took his arm. “Come, walk with me a moment.”

The irony of being rescued from the herd of matchmaking mamas by another matchmaking mama wasn’t lost on him.
Was
she a matchmaking mama? “Where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought you needed rescuing. You don’t come to many balls anymore. Perhaps you underestimated the vulturelike atmosphere.”

He laughed, surprised that his emotions could veer so swiftly, but exceptionally glad. The tension she’d provoked by mentioning his mother eased. Her touch was surprisingly comforting. “Thank you. I
had
forgotten.”

She led him to the edge of the ballroom. “I must confess I’d hoped to introduce you to my ward, but I can see you need a moment to regain your equilibrium.”

He marveled that she’d noticed his discomfort. “I’m fine, thank you.” He was now. “I’d be delighted to meet your ward.” It was the least he could do to repay Lady Satterfield’s kindness, even if she was the one who’d caused his momentary distress.

“All right. She’s over here with her friend.”

They skirted the wall until they came upon a pair of young women. Both were dark-haired, one with corkscrew curls grazing her temples, the other with a more severe style.

The one with the curls was facing him. Her bright blue eyes connected with Lady Satterfield first, acknowledging her, then moved to Andrew. She smiled warmly.

The second one was angled away from him, but now she turned. The familiar moss and earth tone of her luminous eyes shot straight into his chest. His breath hitched.
 

It was
her
.

She wasn’t blonde. But she was stunning. Not classically beautiful, but far more attractive than the pale misses who’d clustered around him when he’d arrived.
 

Lady Satterfield let go of his arm. “May I present Lord Dartford?” She gestured toward Miss Parnell’s companion. “This is my ward, Miss Aquilla Knox, and her friend, Miss Lucinda Parnell.”

Miss Knox curtseyed. “Pleased to meet you, my lord.”

He bowed. “The pleasure is mine.” His gaze moved to Miss Parnell. “Miss Parnell.”

“Lord Dartford.” Her voice was as dusky and seductive as he recalled. In fact, it was even more alluring now that he had her feminine features to go with it.

“May I have the next dance?” he asked. Belatedly he realized he should’ve asked Miss Knox to dance, but he feared Miss Parnell had stolen his wits.

She narrowed her eyes slightly and didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she glanced at her friend.

Miss Knox gave her an easy smile, and Andrew knew she must do so often. Not like Miss Parnell, who kept her emotions very close. At least when she was dressed as a man. Would she behave differently now that she was without her disguise? What was she really like? Andrew longed to find out.

She was utterly lovely, with a strong but feminine jawline and supple lips that made him wonder how she could ever pass for a man. The sideburns, which he didn’t miss in the slightest, completely changed her face, he realized. She’d been smart to don them.

He was glad, however, that she wasn’t wearing them now. And that she’d disposed of her padding and her men’s costume. She was lithe and lean, with subtle curves and long legs. He imagined her riding a horse with ease. If she could shoot like a man, he suspected she probably rode like one too.

“The next set is starting soon,” he prompted. She still hadn’t responded to his invitation.

She continued to hesitate, and her friend delivered an elbow to her side. Andrew stifled a grin as Miss Parnell tossed a glare at Miss Knox.

“Go!”

Andrew couldn’t hear the word but read Miss Knox’s lips, and the glower she delivered Miss Parnell gave the utterance its exclamation point, at least in Andrew’s mind. Miss Knox gave her a little push for good measure.

Miss Parnell frowned but moved forward. Andrew offered his arm, which she took—in a clearly reluctant fashion if the slowness of her movements were any indication.

Andrew bowed to Lady Satterfield and Miss Knox. “Ladies.”

He led Miss Parnell toward the dance floor. “Why didn’t you want to dance with me?”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t like to dance with anyone.”

He glanced down at her. “Not a very good dancer?”

She sucked in a breath and then laughed. He liked that sound. Almost as much as he liked watching her animated face. “I’m an
excellent
dancer.”

He arched a brow at her. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re superior on the dance floor. You don’t seem to have any deficiencies.”

He grinned, enormously pleased with her observation. “I’m so glad you noticed.”

The set finished, and the music started for the next dance. A waltz. Andrew couldn’t believe his good luck.

Miss Parnell’s nostrils flared. It was a slight reaction, but Andrew caught it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I haven’t waltzed very much. I wasn’t paying attention to the sets, otherwise I would’ve told you I couldn’t dance this one.”

He lightly clasped her waist and took her hand. “I thought you said you were an excellent dancer.”

She scowled at him as she curled her fingers around his and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You are most ungracious.”

He laughed again, enjoying her immensely. “Come now, surely if you can shoot a gun with deadly accuracy, you can’t let a waltz defeat you?”

She squared her shoulders, which drew his attention to her chest. Though she wasn’t well-endowed, she was nicely formed for her frame, and the bodice of her raspberry silk ball gown fit her to perfection.

“No, I shan’t. I’m invincible, don’t you know?” She gave him a saucy look, and he was completely enchanted.

They moved with the music, and he was glad he remembered how to waltz. “I have a confession to make. My waltzing experience is rather limited as well.”

“Charlatan.”

He laughed again. “That’s ironic coming from you.”

She lifted a shoulder. “One might say I’m uniquely qualified to recognize deception.”

He chuckled, enjoying himself far more than he had in a long time. And with a woman. On a dance floor. At a ball. Who would’ve thought that would be possible? He looked down at the woman in his arms and liked what he saw. She wasn’t what he expected, and yet she was everything he’d hoped.

Hoped?

Jarred by his thoughts, he focused on sweeping her around the dance floor instead of exploring why he found himself reacting to her in this fashion.

She took a wrong step, and he had to grip her more tightly to steer her back on course. This brought them closer together, and he caught a nose full of her scent—something floral and spicy at the same time. Intoxicating.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked. “The Duke of Daring doesn’t extend his adventurous spirit to insipid Society events.”

“You are well versed in my behavior.” He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Neither, he decided. She wasn’t husband hunting. He had nothing to fear from her.

“There isn’t much to do when you’re stuck along the wall. Aquilla and I used to dream up disaster situations. We assigned roles based on what we knew of people, so it was helpful for us to have a sense of what people are like.”

“Disaster situations? I’m not sure I follow your meaning.”

She cocked her head to the side. “As an example, the chandelier might fall to the floor, crushing people and starting a fire. Who would die, who would flee, and who would stay to rescue people?”

He stared at her, not certain whether he should laugh or be alarmed. “Dear Lord, you two are frightening.”

“Three, actually. Our other friend typically joined us. And to be honest, she usually thought up the disaster. I’m afraid she’s as disdainful of Society as the Forbidden Duke.”

“The who?” He vaguely recalled that nickname, but wasn’t sure he knew to whom it belonged. “I don’t follow gossip and reputations like you do.”

“No, because you aren’t as bored as we were. You were off shooting and gambling and racing.” She sounded wistful.

He felt sorry for her. For all women, actually. He’d never really thought of what it must be like to struggle with the constraints Society placed upon them. “You’ve reminded me of what I wanted to speak with you about tonight. Yes, I was hoping to encounter you.
That
is why I came to this insipid ball.”

She blinked up at him, looking momentarily surprised and something else. Pleased maybe? “What is it?”

The music drew to a close, and the dance ended. Andrew escorted her from the dance floor. “Shall we promenade for a bit?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll just take a turn around the terrace.” He walked with her through the ballroom to the door leading outside. “Is your grandmother here? I should like to meet her.”

They moved onto the terrace, which was lit with bright lanterns. Other people were present, either strolling or deep in conversation. “Why, so you can tell her about my escapades?”

“Escapades. An excellent description. No, we have an agreement. So long as you let me accompany you, I will keep your secret. I just wanted to meet her.”

“Oh. She isn’t here.” She looked up at him and smiled. “But that’s nice.”

His chest constricted the tiniest amount, and he coughed. “Yes, well, about…about my idea. I was thinking that instead of going to gaming hells, you should accompany me to some gentlemanly events where wagering occurs.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like at Manton’s?”

“Just so. In fact, we could go to Manton’s again. Charles has already tried to wager that I could outshoot you—he heard of your prowess with a pistol.”

She laughed, and it was filled with devilish glee. “I should like that.”

He couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I’m sure you would. You could also attend one of the phaeton races.”

“Will you be racing?”

“Probably not. If I’m racing, I can’t remain at your side, and it seems prudent for me to do that.”

“I won’t disagree, but I admit to being disappointed. I’d like to watch you race.”

They’d reached the far end of the terrace, where there were fewer people. In fact, there was no one within fifteen feet of them, and if he steered her to the shadowy corner, they could perhaps pass unnoticed. Hell, why was he even thinking that?