leaned closer, saw her involuntary recoil. “It could be a conspiracy between you to compromise me. You needn’t work so hard at it. I can be quite adaptable.”
“That’s very enlightened of you, my lord, but I fear you overrate your charms.”
She turned slightly, giving him an excellent view of the tops of her breasts above the edge of her bodice—a deliberate ploy that revealed an enticing shadow between them. Tempting. Provocative. And damned distracting.
He dragged his attention slowly away when she said in husky, beguiling tones, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do not wish to court unnecessary gossip or nasty speculation as to our activities in a dark corner. Your reputation may thrive on such, but mine, I assure you, will not.”
She rose from the bench and he rose with her, putting out his arm to delay her progress, stretching it in front of her so that she halted and turned to look up at him with a haughtily lifted brow.
“You are impeding me, my lord.”
“Only for a moment.” He resisted the sudden impulse to touch a single golden curl that draped over her bare shoulder; it drew his attention back to the pale gleaming breasts, rounded and perfect above her demure bodice.
“If you are through ogling me, my lord, I wish to pass. Please move aside.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “But perhaps I’m not through ogling you, Miss St. Clair. I find the view most enticing.”
“And I find you boorish. Step aside or I shall call for a footman to remove you from my path.”
She meant it. There was determination in her eyes, a hot, fierce gleam that convinced him. He let his arm drop and she moved past him without a backward glance to glide gracefully across the hallway and toward the ballroom.
Colter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Twice in the space of a few minutes, she had given him the cut direct. It was as irritating as it was intriguing.
“I say, old man, looks as if the lady ain’t that interested. I’m shocked.” Harvey loomed out of the dim alcove shadows, grinning like an idiot. “My first opinion of her intelligence has just been proven.”
“Devil take you, Harvey.” Colter watched as she moved across the hallway to enter the ballroom. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
Harvey glanced after Miss St. Clair with a thoughtful expression. “Not at all,” he said with a shrug. “But the lady certainly is. If I were as plump in the pocket as you are, I’d have a go at her myself, but I need a wealthy wife instead of a beauty.”
It would do no good to remind Harvey that he had only himself to blame for his lack of coin; gambling whittled away what fortune he had inherited from his mother, while his father, the Baron Leawood, habitually gambled away his own bank account. “You should make wise investments,” he said, “so you can afford her.”
“What of your shipping investments?” Harvey asked, hazel eyes reflecting the dim glow of a wall sconce that barely lightened the alcove shadows. “Is it true that one of your ships went down with all hands and cargo aboard?”
“It’s always possible. Nothing is known for certain yet.”
“Rumor has it that you’re negotiating to purchase a fleet of steamships now that a vessel has successfully navigated the Atlantic. Deuced amazing thing, the powering of ships by steam instead of sail, but efficient enough, I suppose. These iron monsters are said to be safer, more reliable in storms without the weight of top masts and sails, but bloody strange looking.”
Colter regarded him with a lifted brow. “Where did you hear that rumor?”
Those negotiations were private, and still not yet completed. It was his own venture, since his father and the board were reluctant to take on any new, unproven mode of transport yet. A foolish failure to seize new opportunity in his opinion. How the hell did Harvey know of it?
Startled, Harvey shrugged. “It’s just a vague rumor I heard at White’s—or maybe it was Brooks’s. Damned if I can remember who said it or when. Been meaning to ask you about it. Intriguing business, these new inventions, but risky at times.”
“Any business venture is risky. Without risk, there’s little profit.”
“And you’re a master at taking risks, old boy.” A faint smile curled his mouth. “A hero with a drawer full of commendations and medals. The risk of investing funds in precarious ventures does not compare.”
“I never knew you to be so interested in my business affairs, Harvey.” It was said softly, but there was a steely warning beneath the comment that was obvious even to the baronet.
Harvey shrugged.
“Not so much interested as intrigued, on an idle basis. You know where my interests lie for the most part. I merely envy your ability to spin gold from straw.”
Amused, Colter drawled, “It still takes effort on my part to do the spinning, Harvey. Think of something other than cards and drink and your fortunes will change quickly enough. Marry a wealthy widow.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say, when all you have to do is crook your finger and females flock to you. It’d be simpler to understand if it was only your money, but from the sighs and moans of unrequited love I hear, you’ve something more to offer than mere coin.”
“Yes. It’s called a title. Women may claim to want only love, but beneath the simpering sighs and fluttering hearts you’ll find a tenacious desire for control. They just cloak it in vows of passion and loyalty.”
“Cynical bastard, aren’t you.”
“I prefer to think of it as cautious.”
“You would, of course, deny any involvement with the luscious Countess D’Argent, for instance? Or the ever so lovely Lady Montravers, neither of whom need another title when they have their husbands’ names and money?”
Harvey laughed when Colter merely cocked a brow at him, then inclined his head toward the ballroom and said with a meaningful glance, “Here comes one of your former involvements now. It’s time for me to disappear.”
A whiff of perfume caught Colter’s attention and diverted it to the lovely brunette crossing the foyer.
“Northington, what a delight to see you again. It’s been far too long.”
Lady Katherine, daughter of an earl, wife of the earl of Cresswood, glided toward him on an inexorable course, her scent and smile promising pleasant diversions.
An insatiable lover, Katherine was still a beauty. It had been three years since they’d slept together. The parting had been amicable enough, with both moving on to other partners. Now she was wed to an earl, her goal at last attained.
“Lady Cresswood,” he said politely, and bowed over the hand she held out to him as if they were the barest of acquaintances.
She tapped him with her folded fan. “Rogue. Don’t pretend you scarcely know me. I’ve not forgotten former—pleasures—even if you seem to have done so.”
“I never
