before she need speak with him again. She searched the room. Quickly, someone. Anyone.
‘Your Grace, may I have this dance?’
She’d said yes to the man before even turning to face him. And when she looked up, it was into the smiling eyes of Mr Smythe.
He saw her discomposure and said nothing, taking her hand and leading her out on to the floor.
As the music began, any doubt that he was the man from her bedroom disappeared. He held her as he had held her that night, in a grasp that managed to be both relaxed and intimate. It felt good to be in his arms again, and to be able to admire him in the candlelight.
And there was much about him that was admirable. His hair was brown, and had an appealing softness to it. She remembered how it had felt when she’d touched it, and wanted to touch it again. He had pleasant, even features, and the smile on his lips gave every indication of breaking into a grin, given the slightest provocation. His eyes were bright with suppressed mirth. If his profession left him racked with guilt, there was no indication of it, for he seemed a most happy fellow.
They danced in silence, until at last he leaned a trifle closer and whispered, ‘How long do you suppose we can pretend a lack of recognition to each other? We have managed quite well so far, I think. Longer than I expected. But one of us has to break eventually. I surrender. You have won.’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘And now you are taking the game to extra innings. Not necessary. I am conquered. Vanquished. You nearly had me in the receiving line, you know. Finding you there, next to Barton, was a nasty surprise.’
‘You will survive it,’ she responded tartly. ‘Seeing an acquaintance unexpectedly in a public place is not nearly so shocking as finding a total stranger in one’s private rooms.’
‘Touché. But I had hoped you had forgiven me for that. Why so cold to me now?’
‘Perhaps I don’t approve of people who take things that don’t belong to them.’
‘Oh, really? But I notice, when you were in need, that you had no problem keeping the money I left for you.’
So he had left it for her. But did he expect thanks for involving her in a theft? ‘That was different. What else was I to do with it? I had no idea—’
‘Where to find me and who the money belonged to. And you were in desperate need, so you took it. Believe me, I understand completely.’
‘I will pay you back when I am able,’ she said.
‘You will pay me back tonight,’ he replied.
Her heart sank. He had seemed so nice. And he had promised not to compromise her. Now he would become just another man with a hold over her, and he would use it to his advantage like all the rest. She stumbled as they turned.
He caught her, incorporating the misstep gracefully into the movement of the dance. ‘Oh, do not give me that melodramatic look. We are in a ballroom, not Drury Lane. I have no intention of asking you to whore yourself to me. I merely need you to keep your lover, Barton, occupied while I go to search his study.’
‘He is not my lover,’ she retorted.
‘Really? But you stand as hostess, at his side.’
‘It was not my desire to do so.’
‘And you have been seen often in his company.’
‘For a time,’ she corrected, ‘but no more after tonight. He is nothing singular. I have been seen in the company of many men.’
His eyebrow arched suggestively.
‘I am in your company now. But that does not mean I would invite you to my bed.’
Of course, if he wished to be there, he would hardly require an invitation. She would be quite helpless to stop him, and perhaps next time he would wish to steal more than a kiss. Once the thought was formed, it showed no intention of fading.
He was staring at her again, noticing the gap in the conversation. And his smile was definitely a grin. She wished she had not mentioned the bed at all, for if he did not have the idea before, he must surely be thinking of it now.
She cleared her throat. ‘What I meant to say was, I hope to marry again, and that means I am likely to be seen in the company of gentleman who I think might be of a mind to take a wife.’
‘And you chose Barton as a possible husband?’ Smythe’s tone was incredulous and the smile disappeared from his face.
‘I sometimes find that the interests of gentlemen are less than worthy. It is a tribute to my naïveté and not my lowered standards.’
‘So you and Barton are not…?’ He spoke a trifle too hastily and his hand tightened on her waist.
‘He made an offer that had nothing to do with matrimony, and I gave him a set-down. More than once.’ She frowned. ‘At the end of the evening I will probably have to give him another, since he ignored the others. And he tricked me into coming here, for reasons I’d rather not discuss.’
He blinked down at her and his hand relaxed. He was holding her in the same loose grip as before, as though he was confident that she would stay with him, even if he had no hold on her. ‘Well, then. Perhaps I was misinformed.’
‘Most definitely you were.’
He looked bemused. ‘Then I hope you will not think it too rude when I will ask you to keep the man who is not your lover, though he seems to think he will be, occupied while I pay an unaccompanied visit to his study.’
‘And how do you expect me to do that?’
‘Use your imagination. A quarter of an hour is all I need and easily worth the hundred guineas I left in your room.’
The dance came to an end and he led her from the floor. ‘Your Grace, it was an unexpected pleasure. Now, if you will excuse me?’ There was the slightest inclination of his head, which seemed to hint that he had business to attend to, and that the clock was ticking.
She glanced across the room, and somewhere in the distance a clock chimed the three-quarter hour. Very well, then. She would give him fifteen minutes. It was a small price for the money he had given her. She glanced around the room, searching for Barton, and saw him too close to the stairs that must lead to the study. ‘My lord?’ She had hoped to ask him to dance, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed that the orchestra had chosen that inopportune moment to take refreshment. Very well, then. It was near enough the end of the evening. Now was as good a time as any to retrieve the necklace. ‘If I might speak to you?’
‘Certainly, my dear.’ He bowed low over her hand. ‘What is it?’
She resisted the urge to inform him that she was not now, nor ever wished to be, his dear. ‘In private.’
‘My study, then.’ He turned to lead her to the exact place that she did not wish to be.
‘Not so private as all that, I think. The garden, perhaps? It is quiet enough there.’
‘And
