‘Ahem…’ Mr Hawks cleared his throat.
‘Oh, dear, I am sorry, Mr Hawks. Please be seated.’
‘Thank you.’ He took the chair and angled himself to look at her. ‘Do you come here often?’
She laughed. ‘No. I haven’t been here for years, but my brother talked me into coming tonight.’
He looked at the closest set of dancers. ‘Mr Dominic Chillings?’
‘Yes, do you know him?’
She was not sure that knowing Dominic was a good recommendation. He often moved with a very fast and loose crowd. But then so had, did, Hugo, and that had not kept her from falling in love with him. The unbidden memory instantly dampened her spirits.
‘Is something the matter?’ Mr Hawks’s voice held concern.
Annabell realised her emotions were showing on her face. Where was the stoic countenance she had worked so hard to perfect when married to Fenwick-Clyde? She would have to resurrect it.
‘No, nothing is wrong.’ She forced her voice to lightness and pressed him, knowing the surest way to make someone leave behind one topic of conversation was to insist they answer a question. ‘You did not answer my question. Do you know Dominic?’
‘No. Merely hearsay.’
‘Really?’ She lifted her chin, prepared to give him a set-down if needed.
She did not like his tone of voice. It implied that Dominic was unsavoury. She might often think that, but he was her brother. For a perfect stranger to think it was unacceptable.
Mr Hawks reddened and had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘Pardon me, Lady Fenwick-Clyde. I did not mean anything derogatory.’
‘I am glad to hear that, Mr Hawks.’
He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I seem to be at sixes and sevens with you this evening. Nothing I say or do is correct, which is my own fault. Perhaps I should leave, then come back and try again.’
That made her laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Taking pity on his obvious discomfort, she asked, ‘Do you come here often?’
‘More than I should, no doubt.’
‘Why is that?’
He gazed around the room and Annabell looked where he did. The glittering throng dipped and swayed, simpered and flirted to the rhythm of the music. Some of the finest jewels in the world glittered under the light from massive chandeliers, and some of the greatest minds in the country mingled with some of the most empty.
‘I am supposed to be here in London to make contact with Mr Samuel Lysons. I wish to work with him, but so far I have done nothing but listen to him.’ He finished with a grin. ‘But that is nothing to concern you. May I have this next dance?’
Annabell blinked in surprise. ‘Are you saying you wish to be more than an amateur antiquarian?’
He reddened. ‘I have ambitions in that direction.’
‘How interesting.’
She smiled at him. He returned her smile, his with a hint of interest she did not return. She decided it would be wise to change the subject. A country dance would not be amiss. It would put some distance between them and end this conversation.
‘I would be delighted to dance—as long as it isn’t a waltz. I am not good at that.’
His face lit with pleasure. ‘I am sure you can do anything you set your mind to. However, if the music is any indication, I believe the next dance will be another quadrille. They are popular.’
It was not the dance she had hoped for, but it was better than sitting here and talking. She took one quick look around to locate Dominic and Miss Lucy. They were at the refreshment table talking to several other people. For the moment, she might leave them to their own devices.
Mr Hawks stood and gave her his hand. When her fingers met his, no shock of awareness made her tingle. Nothing. She had reacted to Hugo from the first, even when she didn’t know who he was and he kissed her. For a moment she stared at nothing as the memory of Hugo’s lips on hers made her ache for what she would never have.
‘Lady Fenwick-Clyde?’ Mr Hawks’s concerned voice finally penetrated her reverie of joy and pain.
She turned her lips up into the semblance of a smile. ‘I am so sorry, Mr Hawks. I keep thinking of other things. I believe I am tired.’
His blue eyes filled with sympathy. ‘Would you like me to escort you to your carriage instead?’
Her smile turned genuine. ‘You are so nice. Too nice for me not to keep my word.’ She moved slightly ahead of him. ‘We will dance.’
He followed with alacrity.
They took their places, he bowed and she curtsied. The music began. They moved through the steps, touching, then parting, then touching again.
She enjoyed the music and the movement, but there was nothing special when his fingers touched hers or his eyes met hers. Nothing at all. It was as though she was physically numb.
The music ended, he bowed, she curtsied and they returned to her seat to find Dominic and Miss Lucy already there. She still felt nothing for the attractive, nice man who stood at her side. She glanced at him and turned away with regret.
‘Dominic,’ she said to her brother, who was in the act of signing Miss Lucy’s dance card. ‘Miss Lucy has already danced with you twice.’
He stopped. ‘And what if she has? That is just one of Society’s bugaboos.’
She raised one brow.
‘Very well.’ He gave the young woman a rakish, lopsided grin. ‘You will have to make do with this gentleman here.’ He indicated Mr Hawks.
Taken by surprise, Mr Hawks did a credible job of concealing any sense of ill use he might have felt. Instead he bowed. ‘If Lady Fenwick-Clyde will introduce us, I would be honoured to dance with the lady.’
Annabell’s mouth thinned at Dominic’s rudeness, but she made the introductions. Lucy Duckworth would be considerably safer with Mr Hawks than with Dominic. After the couple had joined the group forming on the floor, she rounded on her ne’er-do-well brother.
‘Dominic, what game are you playing? That was appalling.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I am doing as I please, just as you have since Fenwick-Clyde stuck his spoon in the wall. You, of all people, should understand what that means.’
And she did. A tiny bit of her irritation with him evaporated, but still… ‘That is all fine and good and I do understand, but that is no reason to ruin the chit. Unless…’ An appalling thought occurred to her. ‘You don’t wish to marry her, do you?’
Totally affronted, he took a step back. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Then stop making her the latest on dit with your pursuit. You are sometimes a loose screw, but this is outrageous even for you.’
He stiffened and his hands paused in the act of straightening his cravat. ‘If you will excuse me, sister, I see an acquaintance.’
He stalked away without hearing her response. Just as well, she decided. He would not have liked her reply. He was behaving strangely, even for him.
‘Lady Fenwick-Clyde,’ a deep, honey smooth baritone said from just behind her.
Annabell’s skin goose-pimpled and her stomach clenched. The room seemed suddenly hot and close, as though there wasn’t enough air. One hand went instinctively to her throat.
She turned to see Hugo.
‘Hugo.’ She couldn’t keep the note of joy from her voice. When his sombre face lightened into a smile, she was glad she had not been able to.
‘I called at your house earlier and they said you were here with your younger brother and Miss Lucy Duckworth.’
He had called at Guy’s? In spite of knowing he should not have done so, she found herself happy he had. She was a mass of contradictions, had always been where he was concerned.
‘That was very bold of you. An engaged man does not call on another woman, at least not a respectable woman, and I believe I am still considered one.’
The smile fled his face, leaving it harsh and hard angled. ‘There is no reason for you not to be. I gave the excuse that I was looking for Dominic.’ When her eyes widened a fraction, he added drily, ‘We hav
e been known to see each other at some of our haunts.’
‘Of course, I had momentarily forgotten how much the two of you have in common. Although,’ she added, irritation making her words bite, ‘I don’t believe I ever heard of you pursuing a chit barely out of the schoolroom.’
He lifted his quizzing glass to one clear green eye and surveyed the room until he found Dominic. ‘Not since my salad days at least. Is it Miss Lucy Duckworth?’
Annabell sucked in her breath and bit her lower lip. ‘Is it common gossip?’
‘Didn’t I just hear you tell him it was?’
She scowled at him. ‘Were you eavesdropping?’
‘You were not whispering. Besides, it is common knowledge. I have only been in town a day and have already heard the comments.’
She would swear there was a look of pity in his eyes. ‘Don’t pity me for my fool brother.’
‘I don’t. But I do understand your concern. It is not the thing to dally with someone of Miss Lucy’s years—unless he intends marriage.’
Annabell sighed. ‘You likely heard him say that was not the case.’
‘I did. But if he continues as rumour says he has gone on, then he might find himself forced to it by a duel with the girl’s father or brother. They are a ramshackle pair, but even they value their good name.’
Annabell’s shoulders drooped. ‘Very true.’
‘But come,’ he said, his voice dropping to a provocative challenge, ‘forget Dominic. There is a waltz beginning, and I believe you could use another lesson.’
She eyed him askance. ‘I don’t think that is wise.’
He shrugged, but there was a hunger in his eyes and in the curve of his erotic mouth that told her he meant to have this dance. ‘When have we ever been wise about each other?’
‘So true,’ she murmured.
‘Then why start now, Bell? I want to hold you. It has been too long.’
There was an intensity of longing in his words that caught and held her. She realised with a mingling of fear and happiness and anticipation that she could not deny them both this small pleasure.
‘All right.’
She moved to the dance floor, sensing he followed her without having to look. Her blood sang with his nearness. This dance was so little compared to what they had had, to what they had lost. But it was all they would get. She would take and revel in the closeness of his body to hers. She would take what he offered for the next too-short minutes and never regret it.
The music began.
Annabell looked up at Hugo and smiled. He met her gaze steadily with no easing of his sombre demeanour, but the hunger in his eyes burned brightly. He put his arm around her waist and swung her into the waltz.
Unlike their first dance, her feet followed him flawlessly. It was as though what had passed between them since that time had somehow joined them so her body knew his without hesitation. She became one with him.
‘I have missed you.’
His voice was low and seductive, the words full of promises. She responded to him in spite of her better judgement. But this line of unreason would benefit neither of them.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered, her throat tight with regret. ‘Don’t do this to me, Hugo.’
‘Why not?’ Anger tinged his voice, lurking on the edges, ready to come forth. ‘You know you feel the same way.’
He spun her around and around until she was too breathless to respond immediately to his demand. At the same time, his arm tightened so that she was closer than acceptable. Her breasts brushed his chest and fire, scalding and molten, flowed through her. It was all she could do not to press herself to him.
And the memories. They erupted from the dark corner where she had tried so desperately to bury them. Her face burned. Her body ignited.
‘Hugo,’ she gasped, her voice deep and raspy, ‘take me back.’
A smile that was neither nice nor comforting transformed his face into a mask of desire with an edge of danger. ‘No.’
He pulled her closer so that with the next turn, his hips brushed hers. Her eyes dilated and her mouth formed a soft O of arousal and need.
‘You are remembering, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Remembering the other times I held you like this.’
She nodded, nearly unable to speak. But she had to. This had to stop. ‘Hugo, this is not the place.’
‘Then where is?’ he demanded. ‘Will you come to me?’
She stared at him aghast. ‘I can’t. You know that.’
‘Then this is all I have.’
He twirled her again and again. Cinnamon and cloves filled her senses. The music filled her ears. And Hugo kept her close.
Dimly she knew other couples danced around them, but they were a blur of colour and then they were gone. Nobody mattered but the man holding her. She revelled in this moment in time. It was one more treasure to add to her memories, one more example of what he could do to her.
Annabell finally noticed they were no longer moving. His arm remained around her, and their bodies stayed too close for propriety. Her chest rose and fell in rapid gulps as she tried to regain her sangfroid.
‘Hugo,’ she finally managed, ‘you are holding me too close.’
He released her and offered his arm. She wanted to refuse, fearing that touching him again would only make it that much harder to let him go in a few minutes. Or worse, that she would sway towards him, thus telling anyone who bothered to watch that she loved him. Still, appearances dictated that she put her fingertips on his forearm. She did so and he led her back to her seat where Mr Hawks waited.
She was surprised to see the other man. For some reason she had thought he would leave when he saw her with Hugo.
Mr Hawks gave her a reproachful look. ‘You waltz very well, Lady Fenwick-Clyde.’
She remembered what she had told him less than thirty minutes before and had the grace to blush. ‘Sometimes I surprise myself, Mr Hawks.’
‘Of course,’ he said courteously. He bowed and made his departure.
‘Who is that?’ Hugo’s voice was low and ominous, nothing like the tone he normally used with her.
Annabell gave him a considering look. ‘What is wrong?’
His mouth thinned. ‘An upstart makes a comment to you that implies he has a right to an answer no man should have a right to, and you ask me what is wrong? Don’t be naïve.’
Her eyes widened as realisation hit her. ‘You are jealous.’
He drew himself up ramrod straight as though she had insulted him. ‘Think what you please, but answer my question.’
His high-handed assumption that she would kowtow to him was too much. ‘I think not, Sir Hugo.’ She sniffed. ‘It is not as though you have a right to know whom I see or speak with. You are—after all is said and done—engaged to another woman.’
His face darkened and his hands clenched and unclenched. ‘How convenient for you.’
She fumed. ‘And where is your lovely fiancée?’
His jaw clenched. ‘She is over by the window.’
For a fleeting moment pain such as she had hoped never to experience again seared through her chest. ‘Oh.’ It was all she could do to get the single word past the tightness of her throat. She dared not cry here, in front of him.
She pulled in a deep breath, heard it wheeze through the contraction of pain, and looked where he indicated. Sardonic amusement bit between the strands of hurt she felt.
Lady Elizabeth Mainwaring was gazing raptly up into the golden-skinned face of a man who had the bearing and gifts of a Greek Adonis. His hair was as gold as the sun, and even from this distance Annabell could see the intense flash of his blue eyes. His shoulders were broad in the formal black coat with tails and his legs were long and well muscled in the black breeches and white stockings. Whatever was going on?
‘Who is the gentleman with her?’ She turned back to watch Hugo.
‘That is St. Cyrus,’ her former lover said drily. ‘He shared Elizabeth’s favours with me for some time.�
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Annabell gasped, not certain she had heard correctly. Lady Mainwaring had said he might have known, but for some reason, Annabell had preferred to think he had not.
‘What? What did you say?’
His mouth curled. ‘You heard me. Elizabeth was bedding him while she was also sleeping with me.’
‘And you didn’t care?’
After the jealousy he had just demonstrated over her, she found it hard to believe he would countenance a woman of his choosing seeing another man, no matter what Lady Mainwaring had said. He had definitely made it plain he would not willingly allow her to do so.
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t really care. My liaison with Elizabeth was for one thing and one thing only. I never wanted or expected anything else. If she chose to see someone else as well, as long as it didn’t interfere with my pleasure, then she was free to do so.’
‘Like a marriage of convenience without the marriage.’ It was a bald statement, but his words had been so matter of fact, nearly callous, that her description seemed perfect.
‘Exactly.’
‘Then it doesn’t bother you that they’re together now?’
He pinned her with his gaze. ‘No, it does not. I’m with you, and even if I weren’t, it still wouldn’t bother me.’
A shiver ran up Annabell’s spine. He was so cold, nothing like the man she had fallen in love with. ‘I see.’
‘Do you?’
He still would not let her look away; the intensity in his eyes and the aching sharpness of his features held her. ‘I don’t know, Hugo. I would hope your marriage would turn out to be more than an arrangement to give a child a name.’
His laugh was a harsh sound. ‘The child may not even be mine.’
She stilled. Surely Lady Mainwaring had not told him what she had spoken about on the veranda? The woman was not stupid. She tore her gaze away from Hugo to look at the couple. Yet, Lady Mainwaring was obviously hanging on every word St. Cyrus said. He must be the man she loved who did not love her. For a brief moment, she pitied the beautiful Lady Mainwaring.
An Unconventional Widow Page 24
