was the woman, however, who arrested Drake’s attention. He watched her, his interest keen. Like the other women in attendance, she wore an elaborately arranged wig. Quite inexplicably he felt a prick of irritation at being denied a view of her hair’s true color. Her face was pure beauty, with large wide eyes, a slender nose and full luscious lips that begged to be savored.
His eyes roamed over her tall, gently curved frame. The green gown she wore shimmered against her luminous skin. Diamonds around her neck and dangling from her delicate ears sparkled in the luster light, but it was her bright smile that lit up her face, and for him, the room.
He straightened into a more attentive posture, unable to divert his eyes from the girl as she allowed Christian Sayer to lead her to the dance floor, where the other guests followed them in a minuet.
Drake’s fingers clenched the glass in his hand. He didn’t care for the scene before him. The girl gazed into her escort’s eyes too often for Drake’s liking, flashing Christian a beautiful smile that Drake began to covet for himself.
Kirby joined him. “She’s fair to look upon, is she not, sir?”
With his eyes riveted on the couple, Drake nodded. “Indeed. Who is she?”
“Her name is Elise Cooper. I heard the wallflowers discussing her while I enjoyed the refreshments. According to them she’s an orphan and Zechariah’s ward. They also mentioned she’s as dimwitted as she is pretty.”
“Jealous harpies, I’d wager. What of her relationship with the son? ’Tis clear the puppy’s besotted with her. Are they affianced?”
“I don’t believe so, sir. I’ve heard no word. Perhaps they will be.”
Not if I win her first. Startled by the thought, Drake rejected it immediately. He had no time nor inclination to court her, no matter how beautiful she was. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when the girl relinquished Christian to another partner and went to stand with Zechariah at the edge of the dance floor.
Across the room, the fine hairs on Elise’s arms and the back of her neck stood to attention, alerting her to the odd sensation of being watched.
She looked around, trying to appear nonchalant. Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the man observing her. He was dark, handsome in a fierce sort of way. His sculpted lips turned in a seductive half smile, but it was the long scar along his jaw that intrigued her.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut a fine figure in a black waistcoat and breeches. His stark white shirt and elegant but simple stock stood in sharp contrast with his golden skin. He wore his black hair tied at the nape, one of only a few men in the room bold enough to refuse a wig.
His gaze captured hers, and his magnetic eyes seemed to discern her darkest secrets. His stare rattled her nerves and made her instantly more aware of herself in a manner that was most disconcerting.
To a woman used to being in the midst of trouble, he seemed the essence of it. She decided then to steer clear of him, for in one glance she knew his ilk: pure danger in masculine form.
Zechariah patted her hand. “Elise? Are you ill?”
She blinked and looked down into his round face. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You’ve nearly drawn blood.”
Her gaze fell to where her fingernails dug into his linen-clad arm. She released him immediately.
Her spymaster fiddled with the froth of lace at his wrist. “Get hold of yourself, girl. You’ll never accomplish what you must if you’re more skittish than a colt.”
Elise narrowed her eyes and bit back a sharp retort. She kept her expression cheerful so as not to give away the game to onlookers, but she resented his tone.
She despised Zechariah’s hold on her life. But he’d offered the escape she’d prayed for as part of the bargain she’d made to free her sister. For now, she could do little but accept his sharp ways. Others believed she was his ward, when in actuality he was her warden.
“I’m neither skittish nor incapable of performing my task. The man by the mantel, the dark one, he startled me is all. I turned to see him staring a hole in my back.”
Zechariah observed the man covertly. “That, my dear, is Drake Amberly, the man you’re to investigate. You’d do well to encourage his interest. If he were to become besotted with you, it would make your task that much easier.”
Elise bit back a sharp retort. Her instincts warned that Amberly was the one man in the Colonies she should avoid at all costs. “I have a troublesome feeling about him.”
“Perhaps meeting him will alleviate the sensation.” His amiable tone cloaked a rod of iron. “Allow me to introduce you.”
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. The unease she’d labored under for much of the day increased. Her palms grew moist. The closer she walked toward Amberly, the faster her heart raced.
When they came abreast of the man, Zechariah extended his beefy paw in greeting. He spoke loudly, competing with the party’s din of music, dancers and conversation. “Amberly, I’m pleased to see you’ve joined us. I hope the journey from Charles Towne was not too taxing.”
“Not in the least. The river was smooth, the boat swift. I arrived in no time at all.”
“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it.” Zechariah rocked on his heels, his hands clamped behind his back. “I trust the maid saw you settled?”
“Most comfortably, thank you. Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
Even as he spoke with Zechariah, Amberly’s eyes returned to her face again and again. Heat rose to her cheeks. She hoped the powder and rouge she’d applied before the party disguised her reaction.
“We’re pleased to have you here.” Zechariah turned to her. “Amberly, I’d like you to meet my ward, Miss Elise Cooper. Elise, this is Mr. Drake Amberly, direct from London. He’ll be staying with us for the next few weeks while he convinces me to contract his shipping line.”
No one told her he’d be a long-term guest. She offered her hand politely, schooling her features to prevent her dismay from reflecting on her face.
His large, tanned hand engulfed her much smaller one. He bowed and kissed the back of her knuckles. His scent of spice and soap teased her senses. She shivered, aware her response to him was profoundly peculiar. Every nerve in her body warned her to make an excuse and run away. Only the force of her will kept her planted before him.
Intense, lushly lashed eyes caught and held hers. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Cooper. I am most fortunate to make your acquaintance.”
His voice was deep and smooth except for a few clipped words that reminded her of the English upper class. The observation brought her halfway back to her senses. She had to remember her orders and not allow herself to be waylaid by a handsome face.
She giggled, resorting to her role as a featherbrain. Experience had taught her a man let his guard down around a woman he considered a simpleton. “I’m charmed, Mr. Amberly. A girl could lose her head with a man as handsome as you in the room.”
“Why
