had practiced that look quite a bit on impressionable debutantes. Merryn, she was happy to see, remained composed and seemed unimpressed, though a tiny telltale blush suggested that her sister was not indifferent to Mr. Devlin’s admiration. Joanna felt a huge rush of relief and pleasure, followed by an equally strong pang of anxiety. She knew that she was protective of Merryn-as the eldest of three girls she had mothered the others, a state of affairs that had been almost inevitable given her parents’ indifference to their offspring. She did hope that now Merryn had emerged from their uncle’s sickroom she might have the chance to form an attachment to a nice young man. But could James Devlin be described as nice? Probably not. He looked far too dangerous to be let loose on innocent young ladies.
Alex, meanwhile, was being extremely courteous to Lottie, thanking her for hosting such an elegant event. Despite her dislike of him, Joanna was intrigued to see how easily, how seductively, he could charm.
“You do me too much honor, Mrs. Cummings,” he said.
“I told her the same,” Joanna said sweetly. “As you hate being lionized for your fame, my lord, I am sure you must detest all this fuss.”
James Devlin smothered a laugh. “Lady Joanna has you there, Alex.”
“I am sure that I can cope with it,” Alex drawled, “since Lady Joanna is here to ensure that I do not become too conceited.”
“Oh, but your reluctance simply makes you more desirable, Lord Grant,” Lottie gushed. “Every lady here would love to melt that icy aloofness of yours and set your world alight!”
Joanna stifled an unladylike snort of laughter. “Pray speak only for yourself, Lottie,” she said. “I have no desire to start a conflagration, though your ice sculptures may prove useful in putting out the blaze.”
“Ice sculptures?” Alex said, slanting a look down at her.
“Yes, indeed,” Joanna said. “If you have not already seen them, my lord, I suggest that you look at once. You will particularly admire the rendition of yourself laying waste the unresisting acres of the Arctic and planting your flag in truly phallic fashion!”
Lottie glared at her and stroked her fan suggestively down the sleeve of Alex’s immaculate evening coat. “Perhaps you may settle a small matter for me, my lord?” she purred. “Is it true that you wrestled a polar bear and have the scars to prove it? Joanna absolutely refuses to tell me!”
“Because I have no notion,” Joanna said, “and less interest.”
Alex gave her another quizzical look. It brought the blood burning hotly into her face, which was exceptionally annoying since the last time she had blushed had probably been when she was about twelve years old.
“You disappoint me, Lady Joanna,” he said.
“I am aware of that,” Joanna said. “You have made your disapproval of me quite plain.”
“Oh, please,” Lottie fluttered, “do show us. Are they as impressive as Lord Nelson’s wounds were? I hear that he, too, encountered a bear in the Arctic wastes.”
“Madam—” Alex flicked Lottie’s fan firmly away as the feathers tickled his wrist “—I fear I would need to know you a great deal more intimately before I strip off in your ballroom, or indeed any other room.”
He turned to Joanna and offered his hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Joanna? I seldom dance, but I imagine I might manage the cotillion.”
“Flattered as I am that you are prepared to try for me,” Joanna said, smiling demurely, “I fear we cannot dance if you wish to join me in discouraging rumors of our affaire, my lord. Alas, my card is full anyway.”
“Then discard it and start afresh,” Alex said. “I wish to speak with you.”
“Don’t you ever say please, my lord?” Joanna asked, stung by his high-handedness. “It may be that I would have a greater desire to converse with you if you exercised a little courtesy.”
Something wicked kindled in Alex’s eyes, making Joanna catch her breath. “If you please,” Alex murmured. “You see, Lady Joanna, that sometimes I will beg-if there is something I want enough.”
Their gazes locked for a long moment. A smile crept into Alex’s eyes. Joanna felt as though the ground was shifting slightly under her feet. But she was getting the measure of this man now and his ability to discomfit her. She allowed a cool little smile to tilt her lips in return.
“Unlike you, my lord,” she said, turning to James Devlin, “your cousin had the foresight to send me a note this afternoon requesting the first dance with me.” She got to her feet and offered her hand to James. “Mr. Devlin, I should be delighted. That is—” she hesitated “—if you will be happy sitting out on your own, Merryn?”
“I shall go and chat to Miss Drayton,” her sister said. “Don’t worry about me.”
The look of chagrin on Alex’s face as he realized that he had been outwitted was rewarding, Joanna thought. Dev shot him a look that was half rueful, half triumphant. “You are always impressing on me that planning is half the battle, Alex,” he said. “Those are your own tactics.”
“Outmaneuvered, my lord!” Lottie declared. “You will have to dance with me instead. Mr. Cummings will be delighted-once he has opened the ball with me he never dances again but retires to his study to look at those tiresome piles of money.” She stood up and held out a hand imperiously to Alex and after a moment he took it. Joanna’s stomach gave a little lurch. Lottie, it seemed, was indeed intent on seduction, for she was already sliding her hand through Alex’s arm in a most intimate way and looking up at him with a predatory, catlike gleam in her eyes. And really, Joanna thought, it was contrary of her to be cross when not only was she not Alex’s mistress but she had practically told Lottie to seduce him anyway.
The eager press of guests in Lottie’s reception rooms fell back a little to allow them through the archway into the ballroom. All about her, Joanna was aware of the feverish whisper and hiss of conversation, the sycophantic smiles of the ladies as they fluttered to attract Alex’s attention, the hearty greetings of the men, the whole of society angling for his attention and notice.
“I say, ma’am,” Devlin said, walking beside her, “is this not extraordinary? Who would have thought that Alex, of all people, would be so in demand! It is like escorting royalty!”
“I think Lord Grant is probably more popular than the Prince Regent,” Joanna said dryly. “Society is very fickle, Mr. Devlin, and very bored. We are always looking for the next sensation and at the moment that is your cousin. Explorers are all the rage. No doubt this time next year the fashion will be for Chinese wallpaper or Scottish breeds of dog.”
“Alex is hardly comparable to a dog, ma’am,” Dev protested, though with a smile. “And he is the quarry of all the matchmaking mamas, of course.”
“Is he?” Joanna felt a strange dropping feeling in her stomach. “I had no notion that Lord Grant was seeking a bride.”
“Oh, I do not think he wants a wife,” Dev said candidly, “but Balvenie currently has no heir.”
“I see. Of course.” Joanna felt the cold gnawing inside her. David, too, had wanted a son. “Yes,” she said. “Most
