‘I dare because Sandhurst had introduced a little concoction of his own to your champagne in order to make you more … compliant to his advances,’ he muttered disgustedly as he continued to walk in the direction of the ballroom.
Her arm stiffened beneath his hand, her face paling as she glanced back to where Sandhurst stood glowering after them. ‘What did you say …?’
Benedict spared her an impatient glance between narrowed lids. ‘A mere “thank you for your timely rescue, my lord” will do.’
‘You are talking utter nonsense.’ She eyed him impatiently as she was forced to take two steps to his one in order to avoid tripping and falling.
‘Am I?’ He gave a derisive shake of his head.
‘Of course you are.’ Her cheeks now bore an angry flush. ‘Just because I so obviously prefer the attentions of a gallant gentleman such as Sandhurst is no reason—’ She broke off her tirade as it was met with a disparaging snort from Benedict. ‘It is obvious from your behaviour that you are not a gentleman at all!’
‘And you, my dear Genevieve, have tonight proved that you are a mere babe in arms when it comes to men such as Sandhurst,’ he assured grimly. ‘Once the champagne had been consumed and the effects of the concoction had reached their desired effect, you would then have found yourself more than willing, indeed eager, to retire somewhere more private for whatever debauchery Sandhurst had in mind for the two of you this evening!’
She gasped. ‘You are merely saying these wicked things about Sandhurst in order to alarm me! Or, more probably, in an effort to make me think more highly of you,’ she added with dismissive disdain.
Benedict’s mouth firmed. ‘I very much doubt it is possible for you to think any less of me!’
‘And I am sure that I might manage it somehow!’ Her eyes sparkled with her anger.
He gave a humourless smile. ‘No doubt.’
She nodded, red curls bouncing against her nape. ‘And how would you even know about such “concoctions”, if you were not familiar with or had used them yourself?’
Benedict’s breath left him in a hiss, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw as he came to an abrupt halt in the cavernous hallway of Lady Hammond’s London home before turning to face the infuriated Genevieve. ‘I assure you, madam, I have never needed to use such underhand practices as that in order to persuade a woman into sharing my bed!’
Her little pointed chin was raised stubbornly as she met the dangerous glitter of his dark gaze. ‘And why should you think Sandhurst might, when he—’
‘Is in possession of the handsomeness of a Greek god,’ Benedict completed disgustedly. ‘I agree with you, Genevieve, he should not need to do so. Unfortunately, your Greek god has grown weary of the chase, and those flowers and chocolates you received earlier today would have been his first and last “gallant” gesture. Sandhurst now prefers that his courtship be less … protracted and the woman willing to bed him as quickly as possible, along with any number of his less savoury friends, so that he might watch and so add to his own entertainment.’
Genevieve’s gaze wavered uncertainly at this graphic description of debauchery. Could Benedict Lucas—Lucifer—be telling her the truth? Had Sandhurst really put something in her champagne in order to render her willing to do unspeakable things, with both him and his friends? It sounded highly unlikely to her innocent ears, but at the same time she had to admit, much as the ton loved to gossip about Lucifer, she had never heard them question his honesty.
Had Genevieve been taken for the fool this evening by Sandhurst?
Could her silly flaunting of Sandhurst’s attentions under Lucifer’s arrogant nose have resulted in her not seeing what was directly in front of her own?
After all, what did she really know of Charlie Brooks, except that he was an earl, and a charming and handsome rogue? And a gentleman the marriage-minded mamas of the ton preferred that their innocent daughters avoid.
Genevieve had assumed the latter was because Sandhurst had made it perfectly clear that he had no serious intentions in regard to marriage. But her assumption might have been wrong, and in fact those young innocents may well be kept out of Sandhurst’s reach for fear they might suffer the ruin and disgrace Lucifer had just described to Genevieve so vividly.
Benedict knew exactly the moment that Genevieve began to accept that his claims in regard to Sandhurst might have some truth to them. Her face became even paler, her eyes flashing a dark and stormy blue, her full and enticingly delectable bottom lip trembling slightly.
He forced himself to relax some of the tension in his own shoulders. ‘Come now, Genevieve, there has been no real harm done,’ he cajoled. ‘No one was hurt. I succeeded in rescuing you before you had chance to drink any of the champagne, and so both you, and your reputation, remain unsullied.’
If anything, her eyes grew even more stormy at his assurances. ‘And you think that should be an end of the matter?’ Her voice was deceptively soft.
Benedict eyed her warily. ‘Is it not?’
‘Not in the least,’ she bit out with a scathing determination.
A determination Benedict readily admitted to finding slightly unnerving. ‘Genevieve—’
‘I believe you said this was our dance, my lord?’ she prompted lightly.
He blinked at the sudden change of subject. ‘It is almost over …’
‘Then we will stand and talk together until the next one begins.’ She tucked her little gloved hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Unless, of course, you fear your own reputation might suffer if you were to be seen escorting a lady who left the ballroom with one gentleman and returned on the arm of another?’ She arched challenging brows.
‘I have no interest in what others may or may not think of me.’ Benedict stared down at her impatiently.
‘Then perhaps you do not dance?’
He gave a humourless smile. ‘I believe I am right in saying that my tutors saw to my being well versed in all of the social graces, as well as the education of my mind.’
‘Then perhaps it is that you do not care to dance with me?’
Benedict knew he would enjoy nothing more than to hold Genevieve in his own arms after watching her for the past hour or more, as she was twirled about the ballroom by one gentleman or another, so allowing Benedict the freedom to admire her beauty and grace. To know that even now his own body responded, hardened, just looking at the delicacy of her bared throat and the soft swell of her breasts.
‘I have every intention of dancing with you, if only to show the cats of the ton that you have not left Lady Hammond’s home with Sandhurst as they all no doubt expect you might have done,’ he concluded tersely. ‘But first I would like your promise that you will stay well away from Sandhurst and his disreputable cohorts in future.’
She looked up at him through the long sweep of her lashes. ‘And why should you care one way or the other what I choose to do in future?’
‘You ask the most damnable questions!’
