This Earl Is on Fire (12 page)

Among the guests, speculation ran rampant. Sometimes Adeline heard her own name, other times Liam's, but mostly both together. It was hard to discern what was being said, as it sounded very much like the hiss of a bellows over smoldering embers. One thing was for certain—something or
someone
was bound to catch fire.

Though even with the censure of so many, Adeline could see the effect Liam had on the guests. Men and women alike skirted sideways glances at him, outwardly scandalized but with greedy interest.

Adeline couldn't blame them one bit. This had been a dull, tiresome affair until he walked through the door. But the moment he had, the air vibrated, turning charged and heated. She still felt the effects of it cover her skin in sensitized gooseflesh.

“With those bruises, Wolford appears positively grizzly,” Juliet said with a glance to where Liam and Thayne stood.

Adeline followed her gaze. From this angle, she had a full view of his bruises. But also of the clean line of his jaw, the broad mouth, the sensual lips that—whenever she closed her eyes—she could still feel against her own. Would kissing him now, without those dark whiskers, be different?

Though perhaps, now was not the time to wonder such things.

Juliet faced her. “Nonetheless, it is good that he has made an appearance. That should lessen the rumors at least.”

Adeline frowned. “True. However, it isn't fair that he should be made to venture out when he isn't fully recovered.”

“If not, my dear, it likely would have been far too late to save your reputation.”

“Society is forcing him to come to my aid.” The entire episode bothered Adeline. She'd wanted to come to London to prove herself, not to need rescuing.

Even so, as sour as this entire episode made her feel, there was a certain sweetness as well. After all, Liam was here . . . because of her. And her heart beat in undisguised pleasure over that simple fact.

“It is rather gallant. I knew Wolford was charming, but this is almost heroic.” Juliet closed her fan and tapped it against her lips as if in thought. “Of course, once the whispers spread about this evening, Thayne's task will be all the easier. By week's end, Wolford might be named as a contender for the
Original
.”

As realization dawned, Adeline stopped and turned to Juliet. “And you would lose your house.”

Stomach-churning guilt assailed Adeline. It was all her fault that Thayne thought of this. Not only was Liam here when he clearly needed bed rest, but now Juliet's hopes were in jeopardy.

Juliet lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug, fanning herself once more. “Well, I've already lost my house. But if he wins, our game will end, and I won't have the chance to buy it back.”

“Is there a great deal of animosity between you and Lord Thayne—” Adeline gasped, her hand rising to cover her mouth. “Oh dear. That was rather impertinent of me. Pray, forgive my lapse in decorum.”

Juliet shook her head. “There is no such thing as impertinence amongst friends. To answer your question, I would not call it animosity, per se. Not on my part. I have accepted what happened long ago.” She closed her fan with a snap. “It isn't my fault that he hasn't.”

Adeline admired her new friend's strength. It took a great deal of courage to encounter Thayne each day. After all, it was obvious to Adeline that something other than a kissing scandal stood between them. No wonder the
ton
was enraptured. She didn't say that aloud, however. Impertinence, even amongst friends, had its limitations.

“Hmm . . .” Juliet murmured, her gaze flitting across the ballroom. “Adeline, a peculiar sort of restlessness has overtaken me. If it wouldn't be a bother, would you like to take a turn about the room?”

Was it a coincidence that Thayne and Liam began heading in their direction at the same moment? Adeline thought not.

“I would love to,” she answered, her gaze following the gentlemen's progression along the outer rim of the ballroom.

“But let us stroll toward the opposite corner,” Juliet suggested, slipping her arm through Adeline's. Then she turned her head to whisper. “It would not be wise for us to seem eager for their attention or conversation. There are too many who would assume improper things.”

Adeline nodded. Since the moment she first saw him tonight, she'd tried to school her reaction, mentally cooling her own cheeks and chiding herself for every errant thought related to their kiss. She only hoped she would be able to continue once they were in closer proximity.

Aside from that, walking was a relief. If she had to stand still a moment longer, she feared her foot and corrective half boot would merge into one. She'd tied the laces a little tighter than usual as a matter of defense against any mishap. Now she was starting to lose feeling in her toes.

“Until I arrived, my biggest fear was what would happen if a gentleman asked me to dance,” Adeline confessed. “I know that I am to make a favorable impression, but I am only adept at a country dance. I worried about what to say, should I be asked for a quadrille.”

She heard a faint gasp from a pair of young women they passed. From their earlier introductions, she knew they were Miss Ashbury and Miss Leeds. When Adeline glanced at them and saw that they were not looking at her, she knew that her nerves were getting the better of her. After all, what harm or interest could stem from such information?

Other than Liam and her parents, no one here knew about her leg. No one here knew that the footwork in quadrilles—not to mention cotillions, reels, and the minuet—caused her no end of misery and embarrassing missteps. And they would never find out if she could help it.

Juliet tapped her fan against her lips. “Then we will need to avoid any awkwardness in the future. After all, once a young woman declines to dance with a gentleman, she cannot dance at all. Therefore, we must be clever.”

Adeline had not known that rule. Of course, she hadn't needed to know it this evening because no one had bothered to approach her or ask her to dance. Nonetheless, she was glad that she had not made a terrible faux pas and was ever grateful for Juliet's advice.

“First of all,” Juliet continued, “you must always acquaint yourself with the hostess in order to discover the list of dances for the evening.”

Adeline tried not to laugh. “I do not believe Lady Strandfellow would have divulged her list to me.”

“Yes, well, sometimes this proves more difficult than others. In that circumstance, you would find a mutual friend. In this case, the dowager duchess. However, if even she does not know because the hostess has not been particularly friendly”—Juliet tsked—“that is when you must bat your lashes at the musicians and claim to have lost your dance card. Make up a story about needing to know when the next country dance is because you promised it to Lord So-and-So.”

Flirt with the musicians? Her? Adeline appreciated Juliet's confidence but did not possess it herself. Nor was she practiced in the art. She imagined that batting her lashes at the musicians would only inspire concern for whatever object must have become fixed in her eye.

“Now this requires a measure of subtlety,” Juliet said with a surreptitious glance upward toward the minstrels' gallery. “Do you see the handsome man playing the viola? The one with the rakish gleam in his eye?”

Both she and Juliet lingered near an arched alcove and surveyed the room. Beside them stood a cherub sculpture, balancing on one foot as he held an amphora filled with drooping flowers. Adeline pretended to study it while lifting her gaze to the quintet. In the next instant, she ducked her head and moved closer to the cherub. Then quietly she answered Juliet. “I think he . . . winked at you.”

“No, indeed, for I was not looking in his direction. He must have winked at you.” Juliet tsked and then laughed. “My, what a flirt you are, Miss Pimm. Adept with a single look.”

Adeline blushed, her face overly warm. “I did nothing more than lift my gaze.”

“Sometimes that is all it takes.” Juliet pursed her lips but only to hide a saucy grin, Adeline was sure. “As for our quarry, his name is Maurice, and he was ever so helpful at offering a set list.” Juliet paused long enough to withdraw her own card from beneath her glove. “Once you have that, then you simply scribble a few lines beside the dances you do not want to endure, thereby eliminating any awkwardness.”

Adeline noticed that the card revealed names beside every dance. Mortified, she felt her cheeks grow cold. “I've kept you from dancing all evening.”

Juliet shook her head. “That is my secret. I've been doing this since I was a debutante. If I don't feel like dancing, I'll fill up my entire card with illegible scrawls. One trick I've learned is to switch the pencil from one hand to the other.”

Oh! Now Adeline understood. “You are incomparably clever.”

In answer, Juliet slyly tucked her card away and opened her fan with a flourish to hide her smile.

“You are quite skilled with your fan,” Adeline said. “I've read about the practice, but I've never employed it myself. As you might imagine, there is little need for such arts in Boswickshire.”

Juliet demonstrated a few turns before passing the fan to Adeline. “Now, it is time for your next lesson in flirtation, but first, we must choose new quarry.”

Forgetting about the censorious glances cast her way, Adeline was finally enjoying herself. She toyed with a bead that hung suspended from the blue ribbon dangling from the fan. “Are you certain? After all, I would hate for Maurice to become jealous.”

“Your loyalty does you credit,” Juliet quipped with a thoughtful nod. “Though in all seriousness, your hands are quite graceful. You have a certain way of flicking your wrist that draws the eye. It is quite unique, in the best possible sense, of course.”

Adeline smiled at the compliment and was about to respond when the air around her stirred, and gooseflesh covered her skin.

She felt Liam come near before he uttered a word.

“I
s this what gently bred ladies talk about when they whisper behind their fans? I must say, I'm rather disappointed,” Liam said, his gaze resting on Adeline. She was even lovelier than he recalled, her blue-rimmed gaze brighter, her complexion glowing, her lips all the more irresistible. “I'd hoped to overhear something scandalous regarding Thayne. Although since he became a marquess, he does nothing interesting.”

Even though neither Liam nor Thayne acknowledged a destination when they'd begun their tour of the ballroom, apparently they were both pleased to linger here. And while it was in Adeline's best interest for Liam to bow his head and move on, he couldn't seem to find the will to leave just yet.

“I do not agree, Wolford,” Juliet added with a challenging lift of her brow to Thayne. “He's taken quite an interest in real estate. I have even heard that the construction happening in my house is coming along quite nicely.”

Thayne answered with a grin. “You might want to rethink what you say in a public sphere. You wouldn't want to look foolish at the end of the month when the
Original
is announced.”

“The same could be said of you,” Juliet said sweetly.

Liam grinned, enjoying this far too much. After all, Thayne deserved to have his hackles raised. This was only a small dose of the reprisal that he would get for wagering on Liam.

More than his desire for retribution, however, was his distraction from Adeline's nearness. It seemed wrong to stand so close and not touch her. Unfortunately, there was no way he could without causing a scandal. Unless . . .

He glanced down at the fan and had an idea. “Come now, children. Let us return to the safer topic of fans and Miss Pimm's extraordinary wrist flicking. I sense there might be a secret lurking at the cause of it.”

He tossed Adeline a wink.

“A secret?” Juliet asked. “I must hear it, Adeline. After all, you are privy to one of mine.”

Thayne scoffed. “Secrets? Hardly. The entire
ton
holds you beneath their quizzing glass. You could have no secret.”

Juliet smiled sweetly. “How little you know of me, Max.”

During this little tête-à-tête, Liam liberated the fan from Adeline. Their fingers tangled for an instant. That was all it took. Not even two seconds of time, and his heart was thudding hard in his chest, his breathing labored. She looked up at him, her pupils expanding, darkening. Her lips parted as she glanced at his mouth, her breasts straining against the line of her bodice with each breath.

His gaze darted around the room, locating shadowed archways leading off to dimly lit rooms where they might find a moment—

Adeline shook her head as if reading his thoughts. “You are not overtaxing yourself, are you?”

Then again, perhaps she didn't know where his thoughts were. “No. I am well.”
And all the better for seeing you
, he thought but quickly wondered how the voice of a foolish romantic had entered his mind.

After a moment, her breaths became even, relaxed. He felt himself do the same. The purpose of his presence was to repair her reputation, not ruin it further. Why did he continue to forget?

Sliding the ribbon free, he knotted it closer to the end of the fan, lengthening the silk. Then, without a word, he returned the fan to Adeline, upside down so that she would grasp the handle, like that of a whip. She swished the dangling ribbon, as if testing the weight of the jewel on the end. Then her gaze met his, and he witnessed a trace of uncertainty.

He offered a nod of reassurance. “Are you up for an adventure?”

“Indeed.” She grinned.

He looked over his shoulder to the guests, noting they were all immersed in the dancers performing the minuet. Turning back, he saw the vase of flowers in the cherub statue's grasp. “It is a sad sight, Miss Pimm, when a dog rose wilts, is it not?”

Adeline looked over her shoulder too. Apparently satisfied, she gripped the fan and flicked the ribbon toward the flowers.