He tore his gaze away from Mary and her menagerie momentarily to look for her, and found her sitting in the corner of the room with Christian, smiling at something he was saying. But not dancing. He frowned. He had already danced with her once, as had Christian. They each may be able to dance once more with her, but beyond that would be cause for comment. Time to call upon his friends, he expected.
He seized Colin’s arm as he passed in front of him.
“Steady on, Harris,” Colin barked, looking down at the hand holding him still. “Do you mind? I’ve just seen Elizabeth Nearing reenter and if I don’t dance with her now, her mother won’t let me at all.”
“You are dancing with Cassandra Hamilton next,” he informed him.
Colin’s brows rose. “Am I?”
Geoff nodded in Cassie’s direction and Colin looked, then his eyes narrowed. “Right you are, so I am. See you in a minute.”
Adjusting his gloves and fixing his most charming smile, Colin Gerrard strode across the ballroom, crowds parting before him as the very Red Sea for London’s very own Moses. Several gentlemen watched with interest, for where Colin went, others were sure to follow, and even as he led Cassie to the dance floor, a few gentlemen approached the chair she had been occupying, content to wait for the dance to be done before their turn. Such was Colin’s gift. No one could really tell just when or how Colin had obtained his mysterious power, but there was no denying that he possessed something rare.
Satisfied that his duty was done, Geoff turned back to his previous activity.
Burlington was nowhere to be seen, which made him grunt in satisfaction, but there were plenty of other men to make him glower. She looked like an illustration he had seen once of a beautiful ancient queen with a bevy of slaves surrounding her, faces turned towards her in adoration, worshipping her with their eyes. The idea had made him chuckle before, but now it simply made him nauseated.
She knew he was here. He had met her eye at least twice already. Each time she had given him a cold consideration for only a moment, and then looked to others around her with a greater intensity. She avoided looking in his direction at all cost, which suited him just fine. He much preferred to cause a stir by glaring from across the room. Let the gossips and biddies make something of that, and see if word would not reach Mary’s preciously ignorant ears. Whether or not she would act on them remained to be seen and even he, with all of his past knowledge of her, could not have predicted her reaction.
“Geoff looks terrible, doesn’t he?” Derek whispered in a not-whispering voice.
“Awful,” Duncan agreed, equally not keeping his voice down. “Don’t think he’s had a proper night’s sleep in some time. I think he is still having the corridor dream.”
“Ah, I heard about that,” came Nathan’s voice from somewhere near them. “And do you know if you have actually appeared yet, Duncan?”
“I haven’t heard. Geoff, can you see me in that dream yet?”
“Or where you are going?”
“Or why you are late?”
“Geoff?”
“Geoff.”
“Harris?”
Geoffrey blinked, but didn’t answer any of them. He couldn’t think about that blasted dream right now, not when Mary couldn’t even be prevailed upon to acknowledge him in such company as this. She laughed again at something Jack Kent was saying and he felt his stomach churn. She turned to some insignificant puppy and smiled as if at an adorable child, which made the fellow beam as though she were heaven’s most glorious angel.
She could have been a Grecian goddess in that gown, a rich cream color with gold trim swirling about it, hugging every curve. Pearls and gold dotted her hair, which was braided and twisted to contain them all, but looked as though at any moment or with the slightest tug, the whole coiffure would come tumbling down. Which, naturally, made her that much more enticing.
To other people.
It only irritated him.
She was the perfect debutante embodied. Even the way her head was turned seemed to be graceful and elegant. The turn of her throat was regal, the precise depth of her chin modest, and the neckline of her gown suggestive without being shocking. There was no fault to be found in her appearance even by the most stodgy of pious men. They would have flocked to her as well simply to hear her voice.
Geoff harrumphed and leaned against the pillar next to him, shifting his weight and folding his arms.
This was ridiculous. Did these men not realize that only a few weeks ago she was a wallflower? That they themselves ignored her? That she had been around for almost ten years without any hint of an admirer? And now, because she changed her hair and her wardrobe, because she was smiling and coy and flirtatious, because she was playing the game…
He hated this game, and he always had. But now he had more reason than ever.
“Are you going to look like that all night?” Duncan’s voice growled low somewhere near him. “Or are you going to do something about it?”
Geoff shoved off of the pillar and very nearly marched directly over to where she sat, ignoring the whispers of people who saw where he was going, ignoring the people who darted out of his way after observing the expression on his face, and most of all ignoring how she was not even aware of it. She was apparently so absorbed in her conversation with John Godfrey that no one else existed, not even the others surrounding her. Funny, he never thought Godfrey had anything worth saying, but then, she had shown her tastes to be much different than he would have expected.
He stopped directly in front of her, despite the distinct lack of notice, and gave the most perfect bow he had ever bestowed on anyone. His mother would have shed a tear of pride. “Will you dance the next with me, Miss Hamilton?”
The buzz of conversation around her stopped and she reluctantly looked at him, her face as calm and composed as he had ever seen it. Only her eyes told him the truth; she was furious.
She looked him up and down once, as if in assessment. Then she offered the polite smile he had seen her use so often of late. “I pray you would excuse me, Mr. Harris. I fear the experience would not reflect well on either of us.”
As if that settled the matter, she turned to continue her conversation with Godfrey, who was more than happy to oblige.
Geoffrey forced himself to smile, but it was the sort of smile he had seen on a cat when they saw a mouse to trap. “I pray you will excuse me, Miss Hamilton, but you owe me. Or have you forgotten our debt?”
Slowly, so slowly he quirked a curious brow, she turned to face him once more, her face still composed, but only just. Her eyes flashed dangerously, but she made no response.
“Do you need me to remind you, Miss Hamilton? I perfectly recall the situation, and I would be more than happy to…”
“That is not necessary, Mr. Harris,” she said at once, her tone only a trifle louder than it had been, but he noticed. She narrowed her eyes and smiled tightly, which should have been a warning to him.
He didn’t care.
“Of course, I had forgotten. You are correct, and I shall pay my debt.”
He inclined his head and held a hand out to her, which she took and gracefully rose from her seat, giving a slight nod to her passel of prats. He led her out to the dance floor, his eyes finding his friends where he had left them, all of whom watched with interest.
“What are you doing, Geoffrey?” she hissed through her polite smile, now more of a polite grimace.
“Dancing with an old friend, isn’t that obvious?” he informed her, his tone mockingly innocent.
She snorted and barely avoided rolling her eyes. “Friend. Is that what we are?”
He gave her a hard look. “You have a better definition?”
She glared at him as she took up her position. “My friends do not insult me.”
He bowed with the other gentlemen. “No, they only have to flatter you. Look at your friends over there, Miss Hamilton, just waiting to flatter and fluff.”
Her delicate brows snap
ped together. “Not all of the men who call on me are flatterers.”
“Oh no?” he asked as he moved first in the dance.
“No. Just the other day, your friend Mr. Bray paid me a visit.”
“Did he now?” Geoff looked over in Duncan’s direction coldly. Duncan met his look with confusion.
Mary laughed her annoying, tinny laugh, and said, “Didn’t know that? Pity, I thought everybody always told you everything.”
Now he glowered at her as she passed in front of him with two other ladies, who were both terribly confused as to the disagreeable expressions they were privy to. He forced himself to take a quick breath and smoothed his expression back to complacency.
“I see Burlington has abandoned you,” Geoff mentioned as lightly as if it were a comment on the weather. “Poor sot.”
“He’s done no such thing,” Mary said with a scolding tilt of her head. “We are not bound to each other. We are good friends who enjoy each other’s company.”
Geoff snorted and gave her a hard look. “I can think of someone else who once filled that position.”
Mary said nothing, but she looked away and focused on her shoes for a moment.
His hand closed around the back of her waist, as the dance required, and he hissed, “Has he made his intentions clear, Mary?”
She jerked her head away and her eyes flashed up at him. “That is none of your concern.”
“As your very old friend, who only wishes the very best for you…”
She barked out a hard, disbelieving laugh, which he ignored.
“…It is my duty, I believe, to ask if you are seriously considering his suit.”
She separated from him, twirled, then returned to his side with an impertinent lift of her chin. “And what if I am? He’s eligible.”
“Is that all it takes?” he asked in surprise as he took her hand and led her down the column of other couples. “Well, then we should expand your menagerie considerably once that is made known.”
“Stop it, Geoff,” she whispered as he spun her around the last couple. “He is kind and principled…” She broke off for the next dance movement, but kept her eyes trained on him in warning. Then she was brought back to him. “…and refined, and he is…”
“The worst possible choice for you,” Geoff interrupted as he took her hand once more.
“How can you say that?” she asked, looking up at him.
He laughed and gave her a disbelieving look. “Well, for one, he has no sense of humor. And you love to laugh, or you used to. Could you really be happy with a life devoid of any humor?”
“I could adjust.” Her voice was firm, but her response came a little slowly as they waited for other couples to pass them.
He shook his head. “You would be miserable.”
Up came that impetuous chin once more. “I would want for nothing.”
They were forced together again and he took her hands. “You would want for everything,” he assured her, his voice dipping lower.
She swallowed and spun away with the other women. “I don’t think you are being objective.”
He fought a grin, knowing he was getting to her. “Objectivity is not required here, merely sense. Do you even know his Christian name, Mary?”
Surprised lit her features and she blinked. “Of course, I do,” she said quickly. “It’s Henry.”
His grin spread further. “No, it’s not,” he taunted as it was his turn to leave her with the other men. She looked completely exasperated as he faced her once more. When they were close enough, he adopted the most matter-of-fact expression he could. “It’s Ferdinand.”
Her nose wrinkled up in surprise, confusion, and the first instinct of distaste.
He nodded. “He chooses to go by Henry because even he cannot bear his Christian name.”
She shook her head, tossing those tremulous locks temptingly. “That makes no difference to me.”
He laughed once with incredulity. “So you would choose an idiot, a fop…” He lowered his voice as he saw a few heads begin to turn in their direction. “A boring, refined, completely uninteresting fashion plate of a man with a terrible name and no sense of humor merely because he is rich and kind to you?”
Her grip on his hand seized into a vice-like clench. “Don’t assume you know my taste in men,” she breathed, her teeth clenching so hard he would swear he could hear them.
“Choosing him,” he replied in a similar tone, “would show absolutely no taste in men.”
Mary sighed heavily and rolled her eyes towards him. “Well, then, Mr. Harris, who would you suggest? You?”
He reared back and stared at her. “What?”
She tilted her head ever so slightly, her smile become feline. “You are so concerned about my suitors. Do I detect jealousy?”
He laughed a little too loudly, a little too hard, and forced a smile. “My dear Miss Hamilton, you would only be so fortunate.”
She snorted. “Should you suggest my suitors then? Must all pass your inspection before I myself may consider them?”
“Not at all, I have no such claim on you.” The dance was nearing its end, and he turned to face her, taking her waist in his hand once more, as was warranted. “I merely demonstrate the facts. And now that we have a moment, Miss Hamilton,” he said, lowering his voice, “might I tell you how becoming your new gown is?”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “What?”
He continued to look at her, staring into her eyes. “I found your tiny waist very impressive myself not so long ago. In this gown you put every man’s deepest desires in the most innocent and elegant form of display. Who would know that such a figure lay hidden in you?”
Her lips parted in surprise, and he could hear the breath racing past her lips. “You shouldn’t say such things,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
“Why not?” he asked in a low, rumbling tone as he spun her once more. “Surely a brother can.”
Mary’s eyes dropped to his cravat, and she swallowed with difficulty. “You are no brother,” she murmured, her voice almost lost against the musicians’ finale.
“No,” he replied darkly, his breath seizing when her gaze rose to his again. “No, thank God, I am not.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, lingering longer than he should have, losing himself in her eyes.
Then, collecting what remained of his wits, he released her and turned away, striding across the room to the safety of anywhere else.
Mary felt cold standing there abandoned in the middle of the ballroom. That kiss… Through the fabric of her glove she had felt an almost painful heat racing up her arm, and it tingled still.
Applause filled the room and she was shaken from her stupor. She forced a bright smile and applauded the musicians with the others, then made for the terrace as fast as she could. She needed air. She needed space. She needed… to think.
What in the name of Medusa’s great gorgons was that?
Her cheeks were on fire. She lifted the back of a gloved hand to one, then dropped it quickly when she remembered he had kissed that one.
“Mary!”
She moved faster, not knowing who was calling her, and not caring.
“Mary!”
Her sister’s voice broke through her frantic haze. She cautiously looked over one shoulder and saw Cassie moving towards her with as much speed as one gracefully could in a crowded ballroom.
She almost left anyway.
“Mary,” Cassie said with a smile as she reached her. “I’m so glad I have a moment with you at last. How was the opera?”
Mary exhaled harshly through her nose. “Cassie, I can’t talk about it right now. Later?”
Concern darkened her sister’s features. “What is wrong? Are you unwell?”
Unwell? Mary nearly laughed out loud. But her sister’s confusion meant that she had somehow missed the last dance and therefore would have no idea of the turmoil she was facing. She forced a kind smile. “Just a bit overheated,
I’m afraid. Too much dancing.”
Cassie grinned and gave her the very briefest of eye rolls. “You still have a weak endurance for dancing. How sad.”
Mary shrugged helplessly and turned to go out to the terrace.
“When you have recovered, dance with Christian, will you?”
She turned back with a question in her eyes.
Cassie smiled. “He told me he would like to, but he wasn’t sure he could get to you. I think he is quite shy about that sort of thing.”
A bit of breath escaped Mary’s lungs without her intent and she glanced over to see Christian standing where she had seen Cassie earlier, watching the dancing with enjoyment. “Of course,” she murmured as she considered him, a fond smile forming. “Of course, tell him I would be glad to. I only need a minute.”
Cassie nodded and whirled about, practically skipping back to Christian to tell him.
Mary took her escape and fled to the relatively cool night, thanking the heavens that the terrace was, for the moment, empty. She rested her hands on the balustrade and took in several deep, cleansing breaths.
The smoldering anger between her and Geoffrey as they danced was so palpable she could still taste it on her tongue. Their emotions had been running high, even surrounded by other couples and in plain sight of the highest members of the London society. They couldn’t say what they had wanted to say, and yet they had said quite enough. The rest of the argument had taken place in their eyes alone, and had been even worse.
His eyes…
She shook her head and took another, unsteady breath. She had never seen his eyes look the way they had when he spoke to her in that low voice. Impossibly, after all these years, he still had power to make her feel things she shouldn’t. They had been friends for so long, she should have been accustomed to them, no matter how they looked.
No one could have expected those eyes to look like that.
She frowned and slapped the balustrade. No matter what she had been feeling in a moment of weakness, his words to her had been unpardonable. So taunting and superior and disapproving. As if he would know better than she who to consider seriously, or who would be a good fit. There hadn’t been any offers or understandings at all as yet, and even if there had been, he wouldn’t be consulted!
Secrets of a Spinster Page 15
