“You…you,” she stammered, finding that her eyes kept wanting to focus on his lips. “Stay away from me.”
He stood gazing at her closely for a long moment. “No throwing things this time, Miss Benton?” he murmured. “That was inexcusable, after all.”
“Everything about you is inexcusable,” she agreed hotly, managing to meet his gaze, and for an insane moment wishing he would kiss her again. She was as bad as her mother, falling into the first passionate embrace offered her.
He nodded, a slight smile briefly touching his sensuous mouth. “Yes. I agree.”
She eyed him suspiciously. It was completely unlike Jack to allow her to beat him without an argument. “Don’t you have something insulting to say?”
He pursed his lips. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
She folded her arms, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she still trembled. “Well, get it over with, then.”
“Will you save a waltz for me at the Doveshane ball?”
The request almost sounded sincere, but Lilith refused to believe it. He was never sincere. “Absolutely not! I would sooner dance with…” She trailed off as his hand rose beside him, something silvery and flowing dangling from his fingers. “Give me back my necklace this instant, you thief!” She reached for it, but he stepped backward, eluding her. Just to be certain he wasn’t trying to trick her, she reached up and felt her throat. Her necklace was definitely missing. “Give it back!”
“Dance with me,” he cajoled softly.
“I’ll have you arrested for doing something foul to Wenford. That’s what I should have done days ago.”
“No, you won’t,” he countered, examining the bauble.
“And how do you intend to prevent that?”
“If you have me arrested, I’ll have you arrested for the same thing.”
“I don’t—”
“Come, Miss Benton, you gave Old Hatchet Face your earring. Don’t begrudge me a w—”
“I did no such thing.”
He swirled the necklace in his long fingers. “One waltz for one trinket, Lil.” His eyes studied hers intently. “That’s all I ask.”
Lilith was furious, and at the same time oddly exhilarated. No one had ever gone to such lengths to receive permission for a mere waltz. “You are asking quite a bit, Lord Dansbury.”
He gave a slight smile, his eyes dancing. “You have no idea,” he whispered. “Promise me.”
Now he was asking for promises. “You have my word,” she answered.
“I’ll take it.”
“Now, give me my blasted necklace.”
He reached out and handed her the necklace, gently draping the delicate silver chain over her palm. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asked, running his fingers up her wrist.
“This changes nothing,” she returned, her breath catching at the light touch. “You have a waltz. Nothing more.”
He lifted his hand to stroke his knuckle along her cheek. “Nothing more yet, you mean,” he murmured, then turned and was gone.
Dansbury had a great deal of nerve to assume that she was falling for him, that she liked him because he was scandalous. And even if she was, even if she did, Papa would never allow his suit anyway. It was preposterous!
Lilith slowly reached up and traced her lips. They still felt warm from his touch. Perhaps tonight she should wear her new emerald gown. That low-cut creation should impress…Dolph Remdale and Lionel Hendrick. They would be there, and for her father’s sake, she should look her best. Fastening her necklace back on, she hurried upstairs to summon Emily.
Chapter 10
Four of Lilith’s surviving suitors were at the Doveshane ball when she arrived, all of them full of compliments, vying with one another like a pack of hungry wolves to receive her hand for one of the three waltzes to be played that evening.
Lilith was more concerned over the whereabouts of her so-called fifth suitor, who was nowhere to be seen. She forced a smile and doled out one of the waltzes to the Earl of Nance, as her father had instructed, and held another in case he should be able to speak with Dolph Remdale and convince the new Duke of Wenford to dance with her. The third waltz was supposed to go to Jeremy Giggins, but with a guilty glance over her shoulder at her father, Lilith refused the request.
“Come now, Lilith, we know you’ve at least one waltz left,” Francis Henning cajoled. “Don’t deny me the pleasure of your sparkling company.”
“You may have a country dance or a quadrille,” Lilith returned, unmoved by his protests. Though Jack Faraday had criticized all of her suitors, she agreed that Francis Henning had something of a puddle for a brain. “The waltzes are promised.”
“To whom?” Nance said with a slight smile, looking down at her. He was annoyed, though. She could see it in his light blue eyes. “You must tell me who has commandeered the first waltz of the evening from you.”
Lilith frowned. That sounded possessive, especially since she hadn’t accepted his proposal. She had selected the first waltz for Dansbury, to get the deed over with so she could enjoy the remainder of the evening. If Dansbury followed his usual habits, he would be late and miss it anyway, and it would be his own fault.
“Yes, to whom did you promise this waltz?” Peter Varrick demanded.
“She promised it to me,” Dansbury said, materializing at her elbow. “Do you have any difficulty with that?”
Lilith flushed as the titter of conversation rose around her, with the names “Dansbury” and “Benton” intermingled. She heard Mrs. Falshond’s distinctive voice recite to Mrs. Pindlewide how the marquis had pursued Miss Benton to her very own tea sampling. Next, Lilith knew, would be the speculation over whether Dansbury’s frequent association with her would ruin her chances for a good match, and oh my, wouldn’t her father be heartbroken?
She tried to stifle the sudden fast beating of her heart as she glanced up at him, but her tingling excitement had more to do with remembering his kiss and his embrace than with the trouble he continued to cause her.
“Lilith, I must protest,” Nance immediately put in, stepping forward. “You can’t mean to—”
“Protest all you like,” Dansbury interrupted coolly. “We’ll be dancing.”
The orchestra struck up the waltz, and the marquis offered her his hand. She hesitated only a moment before she took it, and he gracefully swept her out onto the floor. He was all in dark gray, tall and lean and handsome. The glint in his dark eyes seemed more amused than cynical, and she wished again that she knew nothing about him except for what he had told her. The real Jack Faraday, when he made a rare appearance, was quite attractive.
“Why are all of your other suitors able to call you Lilith, when you deny your permission to me?” he asked.
“I like them,” she returned. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that he was a graceful dancer; Dansbury seemed to have mastered anything that could be considered or used as a vice. Even knowing that, waltzing in his arms was like being in a dream. “And I don’t like you,” she added for good measure.
“What if I told you that you are breathtaking?” he queried softly. “And that the only emerald more lovely than your gown is found in your beautiful eyes?”
She blushed. “It would have no effect whatsoever,” she lied, pleased that he had noticed and approved of her new dress. It took some of the sting out of her father’s disapproval of her attire.
“Or that your eyes—blast, I already told you about your eyes and king’s emeralds. I hate repeating myself. What if I said your lips are the color of rubies, and—”
“No, they’re not,” she scoffed, chuckling at his unaccustomed silliness.
“—and that your hair is black as darkest midnight? Shall I continue? I do warn you that while I am not out of compliments, I am running out of acceptable features to admire. My next compliment, though sincerely meant, may earn me another slap.”
Lilith laughed at him, and her heart gave a queer flop as he smiled back easily. She liked this versi
on of the man, and wondered how close it was to the truth. “That will do, Lord Dansbury.” She took a breath, knowing that she shouldn’t say what she was about to. “You may call me Lilith.”
“Thank you, Lilith.”
Lilith glanced away and saw her father glaring at her, arms crossed. “I’ll never be able to explain this,” she groaned.
“Explain what?” Jack followed her gaze, then sighed. “Ah. How about saying, ‘Father, I wanted to dance with Jack Faraday’?”
“I did not want to dance with you,” she corrected. “You tricked me into it.”
“Whatever,” he said absently, studying her face. “Do you take after your mother in looks?” he asked. “Your father does not have your cheekbones, nor your bright eyes or wit, I think.”
Lilith narrowed her supposedly bright eyes, not liking the line of questions. She was in London to emphasize the differences between herself and Elizabeth Benton, not the similarities. “I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me why Richard Hutton dislikes you.”
His jaw clenched, the old, cynical Jack Faraday instantly back in place. “The same goddamned reason everyone else does, my dear. But I make it a rule not to gossip about myself, so you’ll have to go ply some nasty old wag for my dirty little secrets.”
“So,” she said coolly, a bit shaken by the bitterness in his tone, “you ask difficult questions, but you won’t answer them. That hardly seems fair, Lord Dansbury.”
He pulled her closer in his arms, her skirt swirling about his legs and his hand and arm firmly caressing her waist. “I am never fair,” he murmured. “All you need to remember, Lilith, is that I don’t lose.”
Lilith put more distance between them. “A rather bold statement, my lord, even for such a renowned gambler as yourself. Why are informing me of this incredible luck you apparently have?”
He smiled, surprise and pleasure touching his eyes for just a moment. Not that she cared what he thought of her.
“No reason,” he chuckled. “Just something to keep in mind.”
The marquis rarely said things for no reason, but she didn’t press him. “I had no reason to trust you before, and your revelations have certainly not inspired me to change my opinion.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he smiled, turning her easily in his arms. “A scant few weeks ago, you wouldn’t even converse with me.”
She loved to dance, and had never had a more skilled partner. Or a more disreputable one either, unfortunately. “You shouldn’t remind me.”
For a brief moment his grip on her fingers tightened, and she thought she had angered him. His gaze, though, was directed at one side of the room. Lilith glanced in the same direction, and saw Dolph Remdale talking with her father.
“He’s not in black.” Jack frowned. “Not even a black arm band.”
“The old duke’s will forbade him to go into mourning,” Lilith said, looking back at him. “Didn’t you know?”
“I didn’t,” he answered. “Convenient, don’t you think?”
“It’s not for me to question Wenford’s state of mind when he drew up his will,” Lilith answered.
“Why not? It’s damned convenient, and highly unlikely. Wenford would’ve ordered all of England to wear black bombazine if he could have managed it.”
She hated agreeing with him, even though she’d thought the same thing herself. “So Dolph didn’t want to spend six months out of society. It’s not the first time it’s been done.”
Jack reluctantly nodded. “True,” he conceded. “But why—”
“There was no need to demand a waltz from me, if all you wanted to do was to belittle Dolph Remdale. You could have merely forced your way into my drawing room again to pester me for that,” she interrupted.
“Pester you?” he repeated darkly.
“Pester me. And I might have saved this waltz for someone more respectable.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. “Ah,” he said finally, “just so you realize that you’ve left me with nothing to discuss but my attraction to you.”
Lilith’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t you mean your antagonism toward me, my lord?”
“Is that what this seems like to you, Lilith?”
Thankfully, the waltz ended, and she abruptly came to a stop. Jack’s arm remained about her waist for several heartbeats too long before he released her. Then, tucking her hand about his arm, he started to return her to her aunt’s care.
“I can find my own way, thank you.” Lilith pulled her hand free, continuing on without him.
“I want to kiss you again,” Jack murmured from behind her.
Startled, she looked over her shoulder at him, but he was already making his way over to join William and Mr. Price. Lilith forced herself to keep walking. He was only trying to shock her and fluster her, of course—but that didn’t explain why she, too, wished him to kiss her again, why she could scarcely keep from smiling at the mere thought of it. It was simply because he was the only man who had ever kissed her, she swiftly decided; for she refused to consider what Wenford had done to her to be any sort of proper kiss. Not that Jack Faraday’s kisses were the least bit proper, either, but they were very…stimulating, as was the man himself. Then again…
“Lilith!” Aunt Eugenia hissed, grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her over to a chair. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
Lilith blinked and tried to keep her balance. “Hm?”
“Dancing with that…that man,” her aunt continued, beating her fan furiously against her thigh. “Now that you’ve lost your opportunity with the old duke, you have to watch yourself even more carefully. And you’ve been warned about the Marquis of Dansbury—several times.”
“I was asking him to cease associating with William,” Lilith improvised.
“That is hardly your affair, child,” Eugenia returned hotly. “A woman’s reputation is far more fragile than a man’s. Let your father worry about William’s acquaintances.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now behave yourself, and be especially nice to Mr. Giggins, since the waltz should have been his.”
Lilith nodded as Jeremy Giggins approached for their country dance. “Yes, ma’am.”
She did exert herself to be especially pleasant to Mr. Giggins, and even to Francis Henning for their quadrille. Most of her attention, though, was occupied with wondering why Dansbury remained at the soirée. He did not go out to the gaming tables when they opened, nor did he monopolize the liquor at the refreshment table. Neither did he ask anyone else to dance. Instead, he leaned against the back wall and watched her. William and his other friends talked with him when they weren’t engaged with dancing or gambling, but Jack Faraday didn’t budge. She could feel his eyes on her, and was surprised she wasn’t nearly as dismayed as she’d once been.
“Miss Benton, good evening.”
Lilith turned from thanking Francis Henning for the dance. Behind her, in the latest Parisian-style blue coat with cream waistcoat and black breeches, a slight smile on his handsome face, stood Randolph Remdale. Acutely conscious of her role in his uncle’s embarrassing death, she didn’t quite know what to say to him. “Good…evening, Your Grace.” She curtsied politely.
“Forgive my boldness, but I wanted to compliment you on your appearance this evening. That gown is lovely on you.”
“I thank you, Your Grace,” Lilith returned. “You are very kind.”
“Not at all. Your father suggested that you might be amenable to sharing a waltz with me. I ask, though, that you give me a waltz at the Cremwarrens’, night after next, instead. To dance tonight, considering my uncle’s demise, would be unseemly, I think.”
Lilith smiled, relieved. “Of course. Your Grace. It would be my pleasure.”
He nodded, and glanced in Dansbury’s direction before returning his gaze to her. “A word of advice, Miss Benton, if I may. I have heard whisperings that Jack Faraday is pursuing you. This cannot bode well for the reputation of
a proper young lady.”
Lilith was unaccountably annoyed at the unwanted advice. “Thank you, Your Grace. I shall keep that in mind.”
Dolph looked at her for a moment, the expression in his blue eyes darkening for just an instant, and then he bowed over her hand. “I shall see you at the Cremwarrens’, then.”
“You shall.”
Lilith sighed as the new Duke of Wenford made his way over to join his cronies. He was nice enough, she supposed, if a bit dull and pompous. Not at all like her supposed fifth suitor. With a slight smile she turned to find Jack again, but he was gone.
Unaccountably disappointed, Lilith made her way over to Penelope. Mary Fitzroy was there as well, her eyes wide as she whispered something in Penelope’s ear. As Lilith reached them, Pen gasped. “Oh, my!”
“What is it?”
Mary giggled. “I heard Ben Collins tell Lady Francine Walkins that Lady Pender overheard Donald Marley and the Duke of Wenford—the new Duke of Wenford—talking, and they think that the old duke’s death wasn’t an accident.”
The blood drained from Lilith’s face. “They do?” she forced out. “Whyever would they think that?”
“I don’t know,” Mary admitted in a low voice, as she glanced about. “But they think a certain rakehell known to hate the Remdales might be involved. And we all know who that is.”
Yes, everyone did. “Do they have any proof?” she asked, trying to sound skeptical and incredulous. Lilith was abruptly very angry at the accusation. It couldn’t be true. She didn’t know all that much about the Marquis of Dansbury, but she couldn’t even begin to believe him a cold-blooded killer.
“Oh, I don’t know. But can you imagine? What if it’s true? Do you think they’ll hang Dansbury?”
Lilith scowled at the unpleasant image. “What I think is that Dolph Remdale was embarrassed by the state his uncle ended in, and he’s trying to put it off on someone else.”
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