‘Why on earth not?’ Harry asked in a bewildered voice. ‘It is the reason for a female to attend a ball, surely?’
How little he knew of a debutante’s world. ‘Not in my case. I attend because my mama decrees so. Do you know how embarrassing it is to those of us who are only asked to dance because our hostess has forced a gentleman to ask us?’ she demanded, ignoring the fact she had intended to revert to her meek and mild persona. ‘Knowing he’d rather be anywhere else than leading us down the room? Forced to smile and say thank you to someone who is so patently uninterested, you can see him eying up everyone except you? Knowing that once the obligatory dance is over he will bow and scurry away? And do not get me started on the so-called debutantes who are the toast of the ton, who laugh behind your back, and then shower you with false, syrupy sympathy. Their beauty is only skin deep.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, believe me, I could go on and on.’ Lydia stopped talking abruptly and bit the inside of her mouth, conscious of how close they were to other people. The last thing she needed or wanted was to cause a scene. ‘Sorry.’
He patted her hand. ‘It is I who should say that. I honestly hadn’t realised how self-centred and unthinking we males are. However, I would like to have the first waltz with you and the supper dance. Look on it as thumbing your nose at the tabbies if you like. And those insufferable incomparables who do not have one tenth of your personality.’ Behind them the sound of violins got louder. ‘Your card?’ he prompted. ‘Perhaps now it will be the second waltz.’
‘I’m sorry, my lord.’ She raised her head and worried her lip; something she had seen shy, sweet young things do to great effect. However, Lydia would wager she just looked stupid. She might want to come across as docile and boring, but never stupid. ‘What do you want me to do now?’
‘Walk on, so we aren’t interrupted, is a good start.’ He urged her out of the long windows that led to the gardens, and along the terrace to where several flickering sconces lit a selection of seats and tables. ‘I see that annoying Miss Dixon and the even stupider Mr Fitchett to our right. If we increase our pace they shouldn’t catch us up and regale us with inane conversation.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Oh, stupid.
Only one table was occupied, as most couples were drifting back inside to where the strains of a waltz could be heard. ‘We can sit here, a perfectly conventional couple and chat…’ – he paused and winked – ‘…about anything we like. As long as you don’t blush or hit me.’
Lydia allowed Harry to seat her on a curved, padded bench and waited as he sat down beside her, leaving a correct distance between them. ‘I would never be so unladylike as to attack anyone,’ she said in a suitably shocked voice. ‘I’m sure you are much too much a gentleman for me to ever have the urge or the need to do so.’
He quirked one eyebrow in a manner she knew was intended to intimidate. Damn it, she would not let him see how it – and him in general – affected her. Lydia wondered how she could make herself blush without reason and lowered her head in order, she accepted, to mask the fact she wasn’t intimidated. Then she caught a glimpse of his staff, outlined by fine material, and knew the answer. Her thoughts strayed to what was under that material and how, she had read, it was used. Heat rushed into her face. Where was her fan when she needed it? ‘You would not behave in that way,’ she added faintly for good measure.
‘If you think that, my dear, you are truly more naïve than I give you credit for. Somehow…’ Harry tipped her chin up with the tip of his forefinger. ‘No, I do not accept that.’
Lydia had no comeback. She folded her hands in her lap. It was that or mangle her reticule. Damn him. Was he going to be the one who saw through her façade? Why, oh why, had he singled her out? Any other gentleman would have left her once she assured them she was fine. Not him. He had to involve Lady Raith, who Lydia was certain would not have introduced him to her without his insistence, and now at another ball he had once more given her his undivided attention. Why?
A servant approached with a salver and Harry took two glasses of champagne from it and held one out to her. ‘Will this help and give you something to do with your hands?’ Harry paused and grinned. ‘Other than hold your fingers so tightly together your knuckles are white. I’m not here to upset you, my dear Lydia, more to reassure you I am a good, upright citizen with your best interests at heart.’
Really? Oh, Hades. Lydia took the glass with a murmur of thanks. Why did she think his ideas would not mesh with hers? She was going to need to have her wits about her, and be very alert. Please, God, do not let my attraction or nervousness show. These sorts of nerves were not due to innocence or reticence, more down to the discovery he seemed to see through her façade.
Why?
‘So kind,’ she said faintly, and watched his lips quirk.
‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed amiably. ‘I can be even more kind when it is warranted. Shall we discover if this is one of those times?’
Oh lord. When would she learn not to treat him like most of the other idiotic young bucks who couldn’t see what was under their nose?
Her stomach lurched. If only the servant had brought food as well. She was thirsty and felt somewhat nauseous, but her overwhelming fear was her tummy might rumble because she hadn’t managed to eat any supper. Perhaps she had better take her time with the champagne.
Lydia put her glass down and took a deep breath, knowing she was probably going to say something she would regret later. ‘What were we talking about earlier?’
‘Your dance card.’
With a sigh that rustled the hem of her dress, Lydia opened her reticule, resigned now to becoming the focus of people’s interest. ‘If you must.’ She handed the card with its attached pencil over to him.
Harry grinned. ‘I must.’ He scribbled his name twice and handed it back to her. ‘I’d fill it except then that would cause a stir.’ He bowed very formally. ‘I believe this is our dance, my dear. Ready?’
She sighed again and hated the way it sounded breathy, not resigned. ‘As I will ever be.’
Harry laughed and his dark eyes sparkled. ‘You do my ego so much good, my lady. There is no chance of it becoming overinflated with you around.’
‘I, er…’ she stammered, not knowing what to say, and he winked.
‘Don’t worry. I know that secretly you want to dance with me and only your innocence and reticence stops you showing it.’ He took her glass and sat it down on the table next to his. ‘Into the fray?’
There really was no answer to that. Lydia swallowed and smiled as he led her on to the dance floor and hoped she would not disgrace herself. It was a long while since she’d danced properly with someone who had asked her because he actually wanted to be her partner and not because he had been forced into it. She suspected it might feel different.
It did.
Once Harry swung her into his arms and began to waltz, Lydia forgot everything except the joy of dancing with someone who wanted her in his arms, and was not wishing for the dance to end. Someone who danced beautifully and let her do the same. Their steps matched, and she knew that, for once in her life, she was envied and not pitied. Her skirts brushed his legs as they executed a flourishing turn, and she could almost imagine his arms tightened as he steered her around another couple. Did his chest touch her? Did he really press his lips to her hair? Goodness, was he flirting?
Lydia glanced up at him and he smiled in such a way she could almost imagine she mattered to him. Which, of course, was stupid. Harry Birnham’s views on women were well known. Love them and leave them, and no love came into the equation. Even so, it was rumoured women queued up to share his bed, even briefly. That would never do for Lydia. To be a convenience seemed so demeaning. He had no intention of getting leg-shackled and, when he did, everyone knew he would take a wife to ensure the line and nothing more. Even more humiliating. It would never do for her and Lydia knew it. But he danced like a dream and, for one brief moment, it was good to be envied not pitied.
&nb
sp; They danced on. Sadly, it was all too soon that the music stopped and she remembered to curtsey to her partner.
Harry bowed as he held her hand for a second longer than was truly acceptable. His eyes gleamed and he chuckled softly. ‘How the hell you are not inundated with suitors for every dance I do not know. That was sheer pleasure, my dear, and I look forward to the next.’
The sincerity in his voice was enough to make her body tingle and tiny pinpricks of desire danced down her spine. The man had enough charisma for three men and it was oh so dangerous. How simple it would have been to bask in his admiration and go with the flow. And how easily that could lead to the destruction of her carefully constructed world. Even so… ‘It makes a difference to be with someone who wasn’t forced to ask you to…’ She broke off. Her unruly tongue would be the social death of her. Lydia might want to leave, but preferably not in disgrace. ‘I, er…’
Harry glared. ‘You infuriating woman. Are you intimating I was coerced into dancing with you? No such thing. I was not forced to ask you, and you know it.’
It was interesting, she thought, how he could convey such annoyance and still speak in a level tone.
‘I danced with you for my enjoyment and, I hope, yours,’ he continued. ‘I look forward to our next dance and would not relinquish you if I didn’t have to. Now, to where would you like me to escort you? Your mama?’
Lydia shuddered. ‘Heaven forbid. I’m fine here. I will go and get some lemonade and sit and watch the dancers.’
He shook his head. ‘I will escort you to get some lemonade and we will watch the dancers.’
That was surely a recipe for disaster? ‘People will talk.’
Harry looked around. ‘People are talking anyway. It’s to be expected. I don’t dance normally, you only do when coerced, and I’m certain we appeared as if we were enjoying ourselves. Look on the bright side. If they are talking about us, they are not upsetting anyone else.’
He had a point. ‘I hate being the centre of attention,’ she grumbled as he took her arm once more and carved a way though the throng towards the anteroom where an assortment of drinks waited. ‘It’s all right for you. You can do the lordly bit and ignore anyone you don’t want to talk to. I, however, have to grit my teeth and bear it all.’
Harry handed her a glass of lemonade, and took a goblet of wine for himself. She eyed it mulishly as he led her to a low, soft chaise and waited while she settled down on the dark-green, velvet cushions. Why should she have to have lemonade while he had wine? She hadn’t heard of that in those damned unwritten rules for debs.
‘Here.’ He smiled in amusement, handed her the wine, and put the lemonade on a nearby table. ‘I have never know someone who can convey so much annoyance without saying a word. I’ll get another one for myself.’
Lydia smiled back. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
Harry laughed. ‘You keep me on my toes.’
She sipped the rich, ruby red and robust wine. ‘Good.’
‘Wait there.’ He took the few steps needed to reach out and accept another glass of wine and returned to sit in an armchair next to her, then shook his head. ‘Why people think you are sweet and effacing, I cannot fathom. You are anything but, aren’t you?’
Lydia glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. As most people were either on the dance floor, gossiping in groups, or at the card tables in another salon, the room was almost empty. Perhaps it was time to put her cards on the table and be open about her intentions. ‘I want to be seen to be all of those things. I do not want to be part of all this.’ She waved her hand towards the ballroom. ‘I can’t do much else for my parents other than be seen as a disappointment to them, and therefore intend to cause no, or only a small, scandal when I retire in a week or so. It will be “Those poor Fields, but it’s all for the better. Lydia was never going to catch the eye of a gentleman, so she’s in the best place for her. Now the Fields can enjoy life without worrying what to do with her”. No one will actually enquire where I am. Or if they do will be told something innocuous.’ She took another sip of wine and looked at Harry over the rim of the heavy crystal goblet. He sat back in the chair next to her, his long legs encased in immaculate evening trousers and stretched out in front of him, and eyed her closely. She, however, didn’t dare eye him too closely, for her eyes strayed downward to where his torso ended and his legs began.
His lips twitched.
‘What?’ Lydia asked suspiciously. ‘Do I have wine on my gown or a spider in my hair?’
He shook his head. ‘I cannot believe how well you have deceived everyone, including me. Life will be interesting from now on.’
Why? Lydia decided not to ask him. She put her glass down and stood up. ‘I best go back to the ballroom before my mama realises I’m gone.’
‘Oh, she’ll have realised,’ Harry said. ‘But also seen you were with me and accepted it,’ he finished shrewdly. ‘But by all means run away. Although I never thought you a coward.’
Lydia glowered at him and curtsied. ‘Thank you, my lord, for your oh so charming assessment of my character. There is no need for me to run. A brisk walk with be sufficient.’ His shout of laughter made her sit down again with a thump.
Damned infuriating man.
Chapter Five
Harry wondered just what his companion was thinking. When she relaxed she seemed to forget herself and her emotions chased across her face, easy to translate. That wasn’t often enough for him. What had started out as a whim to save her from Jeremy and his lack of true interest in her, and then to see if the blasted woman ever did animated, had changed into a determination to discover what made her tick. Lydia Field was a dark horse and intrigued him more than he would have thought possible. Not that he would let things go too far, too fast, but if he made her last few weeks in London more enjoyable, surely that was a good thing? If he made her body tingle and sated his, that would be even better.
If he made her change her mind about leaving? Then what? He decided to shelve that thought for a later date.
He exchanged her empty glass for one filled with another deep-red wine. Lydia looked at it dubiously, but thanked him prettily.
‘So kind.’ Her voice was everything a young deb’s ought to be. Why, then, did it grate so much, when with other young women he ignored it? And them.
So boring. But not hers. That was something to ponder over.
‘Do I offer you a penny for your thoughts to tell me what you are thinking?’ he asked, and could have bitten his tongue out when she blinked and paled. ‘Sorry.’ Harry backtracked rapidly, appalled at his crassness. ‘My apologies, that was rude. Your thoughts are, of course, your own.’ Although, with this young lady, he rather wished they weren’t.
The awareness that once again hit him with the force of a bullet somewhat took him aback. An early entanglement with a woman who set out to entrap him had made him very aware of his own worth – his title and the wealth that went with it – and had forced him to steer clear of any exchanges that could be misconstrued. Harry enjoyed his reputation as a rake, dallied with the sort of ladies who knew that and accepted it, and steered well clear of any young, innocent female who as much as looked at him. Miss Barbara Triphorn had made sure of that. Even the fact that she had subsequently ensnared a duke several decades older than herself, become rotund and ended up in Cornwall hadn’t helped Harry recover. At twenty-two he’d thought himself in love, with the feeling reciprocated, and it had been a hard lesson to learn that the only things the lady was in love with were his title and his money.
But now another young lady intrigued him. However, he was, he hoped, older and wiser, and unlikely to be caught in the parson’s noose. That did not have to be the end result at all.
She is a lady, beware. He ignored his inner conscience. ‘Of course, if you wish to share those thoughts?’ He raised one eyebrow and waited.
Lydia regained her composure rapidly, and shrugged. ‘I have no problem with sharing these, my lord.’ Still h
er voice held no discernible emotion.
Harry had the urge to stick a pin in her to evoke a reaction. Lord, she was a conundrum. Luckily, he thought whimsically, he had no sharp instruments on him, except his sapphire cravat pin, and at a ball he wasn’t going to take that out unless he had a damned good reason. Like a warm, willing, unencumbering woman. Something he didn’t have. He chanced a swift glance at Lydia. Her chest moved under the elegant scalloped neckline of her dress as she opened her mouth to speak, and the soft round globes garnered all his attention. Lush, ripe, a perfect handful. Surely someone with such attributes could not be apathetic? It wasn’t right.
‘You startled me, that is all,’ she said composedly. ‘I was, as you so rightly assumed, rudely deep in thought. Where is my penny?’ Her eyes twinkled and he wondered if he’d need to rethink his ideas about her once more. Lord, she was more complicated than any mathematical theory he’d worked on at Cambridge.
Harry stared and then threw his head back and laughed, before he fished in his pocket and drew out a silver sixpence to hand to her. ‘There, I have five on account.’
Lydia giggled and supressed it with one elegantly gloved hand over her mouth before she took the proffered coin and slipped it into her reticule. ‘I merely wondered why you were paying so much attention to me. What have I done to deserve…’ She licked her lips and cleared her throat. ‘Such an honour.’
Now why did it seem as if she meant the exact opposite?
‘You intrigue me,’ Harry said frankly. If she chose to use straight talk, then so would he. ‘I have the impression there is more to you than you choose to show the world. I want to discover it.’ He paused and counted to three. ‘All of it.’
She dipped her head and then looked him straight in the eye. ‘Well, of course, one has to cover one’s self in public. Naked would never do.’
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 7
