Lady in Red

by Karen Hawkins

  “There!” Honoria said on reaching the other side of the ballroom. “Much better!”

  Her companion blinked. He’d been quite astounded when she’d grabbed his arm and practically pulled him across the room. “Is it? I mean, of course it is. I wasn’t sure what you were doing—”

  “The smoke. From the card room. It was making me quite ill.” Which was somewhat true. In reality, the sight of Treymount bearing down on them had sent her hotfoot across the ballroom, Radmere in tow. She didn’t mind Treymount seeing her with Radmere—that had been part of the plan. But she hadn’t had time yet to get Radmere’s opinion of the ring, and that was something she dearly wanted.

  She held out her hand. “About the ring?”

  “Oh yes.” He took her hand again and peered closely at the silver circlet. His gaze narrowed, his lips pursed. “It’s certainly ancient. Possibly Romanian in design. Not of any great value, though I’m certain there are some people who might be willing to pay a decent penny for the thing. I’d say…one hundred pounds?”

  Honoria looked at the silver band. The candlelight flickered off the surface, casting a shower of sparkles up at her. “I thought it might be worth something on its own and not just because of what it is.”

  “And what is it?”

  “The St. John talisman ring.”

  Radmere’s brows shot up. He snatched up Honoria’s hand once again and examined the ring even closer, a feverish expression on his round face. “I’ll give you whatever you wish, just sell me that ring!”

  Honoria smiled, curling her fingers over the band. “That’s more in line with what I wished to hear.”

  “Then you will sell it?”

  “Oh no. I have other plans for this ring.”

  “Hm.” Radmere dropped Honoria’s hand. “Do these plans involve Treymount?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Will he like these plans?”

  “No. He will despise them.”

  “Then I sincerely hope you succeed.” Radmere made a face. “Treymount has bested me once too often for me to wish him anything but ill.”

  “Then rest assured that when I finish my negotiations, I will have everything I want, and Treymount nothing. Except, of course, his ring.”

  “You hold the same low opinion of Treymount as I.”

  For some reason, Honoria didn’t like the sound of that. She was frustrated with Treymount’s refusal to acquiesce to her demands, to be certain, but she could hardly blame him for trying to negotiate lower terms. In fact, if he’d agreed to her first offer, or even her second, her opinion of him would have been decidedly lower. “You mistake me, Lord Radmere. Treymount has never behaved ill toward me. He’s been callous, but not mean.”

  “Oh?”

  She smiled, not saying anything more. Being with Lord Radmere was making her feel somewhat…uneasy. Almost as if she was betraying a trust of some sort. Which was, of course, ridiculous. How could she be betraying anyone just by having a simple conversation?

  Radmere’s smile deepened and he took her hand again, only this time he pressed his lips to the back of her fingers. “You look somewhat bemused. But on you, bemusement has a particular charm.” He glanced at her through his lashes. “May I say that you are indeed a most intriguing woman?”

  Honoria tried to wrest free her hand, but found her fingers locked in Radmere’s rather beefy hand. “My lord…my fingers hurt.”

  “Oh dear! I apologize.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, leaning closer. “Then let us go out on the terrace to discuss this ring some more. You look a little flushed and the cool air will do you good.”

  Honoria suddenly realized that Radmere’s strange cologne was actually brandy. She studied him a moment more and saw that though he did not appear unsteady in any way, nor did his face show the usual ravage of too much drink, he was quite sotted. It showed in the hard glitter in his eyes, an expression she’d attributed to the smoky air.

  Heavens, this would not do at all. If she wished Cassandra to be properly received in public, she herself simply could not become embroiled in a scandal of any sort. Especially not with an overstuffed peacock like Radmere. It was said that Radmere was the Prince’s closest companion, a fact Honoria could readily believe at this point, especially when she observed her companion’s florid style of dress. “Lord Radmere, if I am flushed, it is merely because I could use a bit of refreshment.” She attempted to disengage her arm from his but failed. “Could you perhaps—”

  “In a moment.” He leaned closer, his noxious breath brushing across her face and making her turn away. “I’ve seen you at auctions, of course, but never looking quite as fetching as you do now.”

  She glanced about her at the swirling couples, trying to free her captured hand without resorting to an undignified tug-of-war. “My lord, unhand me.”

  He smiled and gestured to the curtains at their back. “If we took a step through this door, we might find ourselves without all this bothersome noise.” He reached over and lifted the end of the ribbon that was tied in a bow at the bottom of her cap sleeves, his fingers brushing her bare arm. “We would be quite alone.”

  She swatted his hand from her ribbon. “Oh, do stop that! I only wanted to get away from the card room door, nothing more.”

  A hand came to rest on the small of her back. Actually, it rested slightly lower than the small of her back. Honoria stiffened, her eyes widening. “Goodness!” The hand began to slide lower still, and Honoria whisked herself out of reach, or as far as she could go while her hand was still being held tightly. “Lord Radmere! That is quite enough of that.”

  “No?” He smiled, obviously not believing her protest. To her further chagrin, he crowded closer, forcing her to step back, the heavy curtains brushing her back. She reached behind her for the wall, but…nothing. Good Lord, it was a hidden alcove!

  This called for action. She glanced about, but there was no assistance in sight—she knew practically no one, after all. Furthermore, if she did ask for assistance, the person could well turn out to be the ton’s worst gossip, and news of this little exploit would be all over town within the hour, which would not do at all. What she needed was a way to warn him off.

  So it was all up to her. Radmere pressed back a little, edging her into the curtains.

  “No,” she said firmly, planting her heels. “I am very, very ticklish. Even the slightest touch…off I go.”

  “Ticklish, are you?” His grin turned wolfish. “How utterly amusing.”

  What a fish. Thank goodness his back was to the crowd or she might be forced to do something extraordinary to protect her honor. “Lord Radmere, you don’t seem to understand. I am very very ticklish. In fact…” She fanned herself with her hand. “My doctor says that convulsions are not likely to occur again providing no one attempts to tickle me in a continuous fashion—”

  “Convulsions?” His smile froze in place. “Surely not—”

  “Oh yes. I hate to say anything, but…I wouldn’t want you to be the cause of my demise without knowing exactly what had occurred.” She awarded him with a faint smile, hoping it seemed like embarrassment. “If it does happen, please tell whoever attends me to put a wooden spoon between my teeth. I would hate to break them.”

  “The spoon?”

  “No, my teeth.”

  He shook his head, an uncertain question in his eyes. “You must be funning me. Surely you are not that ticklish.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Everywhere?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “Even…here?” His hand hovered over her shoulder.

  She forced a high-pitched giggle and stepped away. “Oh yes.”

  “What about…here?” To her utter astonishment, the lout placed his hand on her hip.

  Ye gods! This called for serious action. Honoria looked down at his hand—and promptly burst into laughter. She didn’t just laugh, she chortled, long and loud, rising in volume and intensity until he was glancing wildly about a
s if hoping for a rescue.

  “Miss Baker-Sneed!” he hissed. “Please!”

  Honoria laughed a moment more—even more loudly this time, enough to make people stop and stare—and then ended with a loud snort, a touch she thought was exceptionally well done. She really should have been an actress. She could have outdone even Garrick.

  Radmere backed off immediately, so quickly he bumped into a woman dressed in green silk. Muttering his apology, he glared at Honoria, his expression a blend of terror and embarrassment. He appeared so comical that it almost set Honoria off, only for real this time.

  Honoria took advantage of Radmere’s awkwardness. She stepped out of the thick fall of curtains and into the safety of the ballroom. As soon as she got home, she’d write Ned and thank him; he’d been the one to relay that little trick.

  Radmere raked a hand through his hair. “Miss Baker-Sneed, I’m sorry that I—I did not realize what you meant by ticklish. Are you…are you well?”

  She pressed a hand to her chest and said with another giggle and snort, “Oh yes! I’m quite all right now. So long as you don’t touch me again.”

  “I won’t,” he said fervidly. “That…It must be horrid, being so sensitive.”

  “Oh, I daresay I will never marry. But that’s quite fine by me—”

  The couples on the dance floor parted and Treymount appeared, his burning blue gaze sweeping over them both. “Miss Baker-Sneed. What a surprise.”

  Honoria allowed her smile to melt. “Oh. It’s you.”

  She was rather pleased with her languidly uninterested tone of voice, especially since her body had indeed reacted—Treymount had a very powerful effect on her. It must be acute dislike, she decided. What else could cause her heart to beat in triple time, her stomach to heat in such a thoroughly dissatisfied way? Anger was a very uncomfortable feeling, she decided with a grimace.

  Treymount seemed to notice Radmere for the first time. “Oh. Radisson. How are you?”

  Radmere’s ears reddened. “It’s Radmere. And I am fine.” He reached over to place a possessive hand on Honoria’s arm and then caught himself. His hand hovered over her arm. “I don’t suppose I should—”

  “No,” she said smoothly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

  Treymount’s blue eyes were alight with curiosity. Before he could comment, Honoria hurried to say, “So, what brings you here? I didn’t think you liked social events.”

  Radmere’s expression perked up at that. “Treymount doesn’t like social events?”

  “I never said any such thing,” the marquis snapped, his gaze blazing down at Honoria.

  She smiled. “Radmere, do not listen to a word he says. I daresay he had business to attend to else he would not be here now. The marquis is not very convivial, but he is willing to spread himself very thin indeed in the name of making money.”

  Treymount’s gaze narrowed. “Miss Baker-Sneed, I see that though you have adorned yourself as a lady of fashion, the softness of your silks has not impaired the sharpness of your wit.”

  She immediately curtsied. “Thank you, my lord. From your august lips, that is a compliment indeed.”

  Radmere looked from Marcus to Honoria, then back again, a dawning expression on his chubby face. “I say, you two. Not on warm ground here, are we? I mean, have you quarreled over something?”

  Marcus lifted his brows. “Me? Quarrel with Miss Baker-Sneed? Perish the thought. I came because Miss Baker-Sneed is promised to me for this dance.”

  Dance? She glanced past the marquis to the couples who were engaged in a lively quadrille. Ye gods, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even attempted this dance, but she was fairly sure the advent had not been blessed. “My lord, I don’t believe you and I were engaged to dance at all. In fact—”

  “You are wrong,” he said, smiling as if for all the world he’d just paid her the prettiest of compliments. “I am quite certain this is the dance I spoke for. Shall we—”

  Before Honoria knew what he was about, he’d grasped her elbow and escorted her past a rather astounded Radmere and onto the dance floor.

  “But…Best watch out!” Radmere called. “She’s deuced ticklish, you know!”

  Everyone turned and looked at her then, and Honoria had to force herself to keep a pleasant smile pasted on her lips. What a fool, to yell such a thing across a dance floor. Really! What must Treymount think of her now?

  She risked a look up at him through her lashes and found him returning her regard.

  “Ticklish?” he asked, his brows rose.

  Her cheeks heated slightly. “Only when certain people are attempting to maneuver me into a secluded corner.”

  His face immediately darkened. “Was Radmere importuning you—”

  “Not after I succumbed to a laughing fit that caused quite a lot of attention.” She smiled, more genuinely this time. “You should have seen his face.”

  But somehow, the humor of the situation was lost on the marquis. He glared over her head at the unfortunate Radmere, who was already foisting his attentions on another lady, this one almost half a head taller than he. “If I had known, I would have—” He snapped his mouth closed and glared down at her. “You are not to speak to him again.”

  She blinked. “Lord Treymount, are you forbidding me from doing something?”

  “Forbi—No. I just think you should use better judgment is all.”

  The dance separated them at that moment, which was a good thing as Honoria was hard pressed to remember all of the movements. As soon as she was able, she watched the marquis from the corner of her eye.

  What was it about him that set her so on edge? She simply was not used to dealing with such high-handedness, and it was becoming quite galling to discover that she was not quite as successful in dealing with Treymount as she was with the other members of his sex.

  The problem of the marquis was quite a challenge, one that would take all of her wits and resources. She went through the motions of the dance, glad to see they would soon meet again.

  Just what were the man’s weaknesses? She pursed her lips and considered everything she knew about him.

  When they came together again, he sighed. “You really must stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Regarding me as if you’d like to dissect me like one of those medical students who are forever foraging for cadavers.” He held her hand as they passed around the circle.

  “I’m certain you would make a horrid example for such a study,” she said, turning on her heel and presenting him with her other hand. They began to sashay in the opposite direction.

  He slanted her a hard look. Finally he said, “I know I am going to regret this, but why would I make a horrid study?”

  “Because you have no heart. Just a mind for business. In the place of your heart, I’m certain they will find naught but an empty cavern and perhaps a ledger page or two.”

  “I knew I wasn’t going to like your answer. Tell me, Miss Baker-Sneed, are you always so scathing in your compliments? Or is it just for me?”

  “It’s just for you,” she replied with unimpaired cheerfulness. “I had no wish to dance, in the first place. Or to converse. You were the one who forced this issue.”

  “I didn’t wish to dance, myself,” he replied, smiling down at her, a disturbing glint to his eyes. “But you seemed in danger of being mauled by Radmere, so I rescued you.”

  The dance parted them at that moment, which was fortunate, for Honoria was beyond outraged. He thought to rescue her? Of all the arrogant, outlandish, stupid gestures! She turned to send him a hard glare but instead caught an envious glance from the woman on her right.

  That was something of a shock. Honoria couldn’t count on one hand the times she’d incited a look of envy from another woman. Lips pursed in thought, Honoria looked back at the marquis. Of all the men in the dance—indeed of all the men she’d ever met—none had his presence. His fine form—broad shoulders and narrow waist—and his legs…she
had a weakness for a man with a well-formed pair of thighs. Added to that was a pair of striking blue eyes and that black hair falling over his brow. The man was disturbingly handsome. It was almost unfair.

  She stifled a sigh. Radmere had been something of a leech. An easily cowed leech, but still…she supposed Treymount meant well by “rescuing” her. Honoria sniffed, glad when the dance put her back with the marquis. “While I appreciate your efforts, I didn’t need your assistance with Radmere.”

  “No? Then why was that braggart holding your hand for so long?”

  “Because he was looking at the talisman ring.” She smiled down at the circlet that rested on her finger, her hand resting lightly on the black of his coat sleeve as they made their way through the set. “It is truly a magnificent piece.”

  To her surprise, the marquis grasped her hand and pulled her from the dance. They stood to the side of the floor, their place rapidly taken by another couple. The cool breeze from the terrace doors sent her skirts fluttering about her ankles.

  Treymount’s deep voice rumbled near her ear. “Did you tell Radmere the ring was mine?”

  She glanced up at him through her lashes. “Should I have?”

  His gaze flared in return. “No, damn you, for if he knows that, he will want the blasted thing.”

  Honoria wasn’t sure what was goading her to continue teasing Treymount. He was known for his stern temper. And the ring was something he prized highly. Even more, she knew that the marquis did not like to lose. She knew all that and more. Her purpose in coming tonight had not been to infuriate the marquis, but merely to make him aware of the fact that she, and she alone, owned the ring, and that his options were limited. He either paid the amount she requested or he lost the ring. It was that simple. In no way did she mean to make him furious.

  And yet…and yet, despite knowing this course was madness, despite knowing that she might be hurting her own cause, she found herself flashing a determinedly wicked smile at the man. “Of course I told Radmere that this was the famed St. John talisman ring. You are right, he does want it. Badly. Which is a good thing because if you and I don’t manage to reach an agreement…” She flickered her fingers before Treymount’s narrowed eyes, the ring casting a glimmer over his face, reflecting the pure blue of his eyes. “…then perhaps I will indeed sell the ring to Radmere. I suppose then it will become known as the Radmere talisman ring, won’t it? That will seem odd for you indeed, seeing your mother’s ring in the hands of another man.”