“Perhaps it’s not moths to a flame after all,” Lady Haverstoke mused, with the superior grin of one who has accomplished her goal, “more like bees to the honey pot.”
“Lord March is unwise,” was all that Lady Victoria Manningly said.
“My dear Julien, how very thoughtful of you. It was growing so terribly close. I was longing for a breath of evening air, but only with you.”
“Did you indeed, Sarah?” He was very much aware for one unwanted moment of her hand stroking his sleeve and the pervading odor of her musk scent. He said coolly, “I understand, Sarah, that Sir Edward has lowered in your estimation. Really, my dear, you are too fickle. He mounts a horse well. Does he not mount you as well?”
It was crude, but it didn’t deter her. “I’ve missed you, Julien.” Her lips were parted in the most provocative way. She felt the strength of him through the black satin of his evening coat and raised her hand to touch his face. “Ah, my dearest, how ever could you have tied yourself to that whey-faced girl?”
“Whey-faced, Sarah? Surely you can’t have looked closely at her.”
She tossed her golden curls. “Very well. Perhaps she is passable-looking in a provincial sort of way, but, Julien, she is but a girl, a green, ignorant, cold girl.”
“A girl, yes. Indeed, my reputation would suffer were it otherwise.”
“Come, you know very well what I mean. Why, it’s common knowledge that—” She ground to a halt as Julien’s hand gripped her wrist.
“Just what, I pray, is common knowledge?”
Sarah drew back at the coldness of his voice. “Well, it is not precisely common knowledge. I know, Julien. I know that she’s cold. I know you don’t sleep with your bride, that you don’t even visit her bedchamber.”
He said nothing.
She was emboldened to continue. “It’s a mistake, my dear Julien, to have wed an inexperienced chit. Is she frightened of your passion? That is why, is it not, that you returned so quickly from your wedding trip?”
In the dim moonlight she couldn’t see Julien’s pallor, or the hardening of his mouth. She thought him to be struggling with himself, and she pressed her body against him and slipped her white arms up about his shoulders. “Oh, my dearest, can she give you this?” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, her hands entwining in his curling hair and pulling him down to her.
Percy swiped his forehead with a fine lawn handkerchief that was oddly at variance with his woolen jerkin, and heaved a sigh.
“Lord, Kate, It will take me a bloody hour to regain my breath. Too deuced fast, that damned German music. Enough to send a fellow toppling early into his grave, or at least toppling onto his battle-ax.”
“You were magnificent, Percy.” As she spoke she was searching for Julien and Hugh. “Drat, how vexatious this patch is.” She lightly rubbed her cheek around the offending black satin.
“Ah, there you are, my dear.”
Kate and Percy turned at the commanding voice of Lady Haverstoke.
“How terribly feudal you are, Lord Blairstock.” She looked around her complacently. “It’s such a sad crush, isn’t it? I daresay we will have some ladies swooning if the space becomes too tight.”
“Yes, indeed, ma’am,” Kate said without a moment’s hesitation. It was an expected compliment, surely.
Lady Haverstoke lowered her voice and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “How charming Lord March looked, dancing with Lady Sarah. Several of the ladies were disappointed when they left the floor.”
“They left the floor, ma’am?” Kate asked, suddenly feeling nausea rise in her throat.
“For a breath of fresh air, no doubt,” Lady Haverstoke said in a pitying way that made Percy want to slap her fat face.
“Well, it is deuced hot in here, Lady Constance, deuced hot.” What the devil was the smug old tabby up to? It came as a bit of a shock to him that Julien would commit such a folly.
“Come, Kate, let us try some of that excellent champagne.” Percy took Kate firmly by the arm, nodded briefly to Lady Haverstoke, and propelled her toward the punch bowl. “Don’t listen to her. The old biddy’s just trying to stir up some mischief, that’s all.”
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