Ruined by Moonlight (29 page)

When Elena turned, her smile was tremulous. “No. But it might have to do with the rest of my life. I don’t want to, but I’m going tonight to the Perrington ball. I know it is going to be a trial, but a public appearance now might be better. The longer I wait, the more people will whisper.”

The rest of her life?

That raised interesting questions, but Alicia didn’t ask them. “Consider it done.”

Ran picked up the note, dropped it, and then picked it up again as he uttered a foul word. It had arrived earlier via an anonymous messenger, but he knew in his gut that Heathton was involved. It was in both the wording and the stealthy manner of delivery. Very rarely did someone leave a missive on his pillow slip and no one in the house had the slightest notion as to how it got there.

Rather showy of the man, if you asked him.

He was glad she’d given him warning. At least he could approach politely, murmur a commonplace greeting, and retreat. But what he thought they should do was eschew words at all, lie naked in the same bed, this time with complete freedom to explore each other’s bodies, and complete the final act of love.…

Love?

Damn him to hell. He’d thought the word more than once. It was ridiculous. A person did not fall in love so quickly. Or did he? His expertise did not fall into that category. He’d had affairs that had lasted for months and his feelings had never been so engaged, so that was all he could base his assumptions on.

But, then again, he’d never felt quite
this
way either.

Elena was affianced.

He was a blackguard.

Enough said.

Love.

This was lust, certainly, that was undeniable. And why wouldn’t it be with the Earl of Whitbridge’s delectable daughter? Unless he stopped breathing and the blood froze in his veins, he would want her.

In the act of tying his cravat, he stopped, that realization causing his fingers to still.

That had never occurred to him before. He viewed women usually as a passing distraction. A pleasure, certainly, and a necessary part of life, but not in an individual way.

“My lord?”

Distracted, Ran glanced up, realizing that his valet was at his elbow, holding up two different jackets. As if he cared if he wore the blue or the gray. “Either one,” he said more shortly than he intended, and then amended with a crooked smile. “You usually know best. I’m woefully blind to color unless it is the specific hue of a certain lady’s eyes, in which case I seem to be able to remember that very well.”

“In this case?” Gorman was ever polite but handed him the gray.

“Indigo.”

“I see.” He took the jacket back. “The dark blue might be better.”

“Because you wish me to match her eyes?”

Gorman had the grace to laugh. “No, my lord, but maybe it would be best if you didn’t clash.”

“I have no desire to regulate my life to her wardrobe or coloring.”

“Then it is clear you’ve never been married, my lord.”

Was Gorman married? He didn’t even know. Ran cleared his throat. “I suppose if there is wisdom to impart, I am open to it.”

“Anything you can do to please her.” Gorman helped him into his superfine jacket. “Such a small gesture, but…it is appreciated usually. They keep note of the smallest concessions.”

“So she will notice my jacket matches her eyes?” His voice was full of amusement because never in one million years did he think that to be true, and supposedly he was notoriously seductive.

His valet said with composure, “You might be surprised, my lord, what women notice.”

Arrested, Ran took a moment, thought about it, and then asked, “Like what?”

Young, personable, and generally attentive, Gorman paused in the act of picking up Ran’s discarded shirt. “
You
are asking
me
, my lord?”

“I actually think I am.” Ran grinned then but it was an afterthought. “No offense meant in the way I worded that either. So what would you do if a young lady who might be unavailable to you caught your attention?”

“How much of your attention?”

“Quite a bit.” It was a telling admission but he was beginning to think it was true.

“How unavailable?”

“Very. Short of marriage.”

“Then…why not marry her?”

The simplistic answer made him freeze. “I beg your pardon?”

“And have her all to yourself, sir. That is the point of it all, isn’t it?” Gorman stepped back as if he hadn’t said something so catastrophic and nodded in approval of his appearance. “You look very fine, my lord.”

Have her all to myself
. It was frighteningly appealing but he still argued, “I’ve only known her for a short time and, besides, I’m not interested in marriage.”

“I’m unconvinced that the measure of time in which one knows the right young lady matters, and if you pardon me for pointing it out, sir, few men are interested in
marriage until they meet the woman that changes their mind.”

Ran stepped over to the glass to check his cravat, more as a distraction than anything, because had it been askew his valet would have instantly corrected the problem. His voice was unsteady. “I had no idea you were a philosopher.”

“And I had no idea, my lord, you were a romantic.”

The first impulse was to deny that, but he was beginning to realize his interest in Elena may not just be casual. He, who had bedded countless beauties, could remember with precision the exact texture of her silken hair and the smoothness of her skin, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t wearing a jacket very close in hue to her gorgeous eyes.

This was extraordinary in his existence, but, their courtship so far—if one could call it that—had been of a
most
extraordinary kind.

All he knew was that he wanted to see her.

Desperately.

And an hour later he did.

The ballroom was crowded but it wasn’t difficult to spot her, as all heads were turned that way, plus her signature pale hair was unmistakable. Ran had an idea already that if Elena was going to make her first public appearance—men gossiped as much as women, in reality, so he knew she’d been in seclusion—it would be at a crowded function like this one. The Perringtons were known for their largesse and this was no exception, for the ballroom was crammed with well-dressed people, most of who were gawping at the Earl of Whitbridge’s daughter.

Waltzing with her fiancé.

Hell
.

“As soon as people notice you are here, this insipid entertainment might actually get interesting.”

Ran glanced up and registered the lazy smile of Jack Ferguson, his slight Scottish accent subdued by an education at Cambridge, which was where they’d met. They’d been friends for a decade and had both fought in the war, though in different regiments.

“Didn’t know you were in town,” Ran said conversationally, though his smile was genuinely warm. “You usually send word.”

“I had some business in London, and for your edification I did send a note, but you were not in residence, which seems to be the topic of the hour. She’s a lovely lassie, I must admit.”

“I’m a bit behind in my correspondence.”

“So I’m told.”

Dark, with almost startling green eyes, Jack was not really the quintessential Scot in appearance, but intensely loyal, not just to his country but to his friends. Ran didn’t mind saying quietly as possible so he wouldn’t be overheard, “I have no idea what people are saying…Well, maybe some idea. Tell me.”

Jack considered, stroking his jaw. “They seem to think you made off with Whitbridge’s daughter, though there is dissention over how you could possibly have managed it and returned alive, because he isn’t a benevolent man.”

“Good to know,” Ran muttered. “We’ve met but not since the abduction.”

“So you did take her off for nearly a week?”

“No, of course not.”

“Care to explain?”

“Later.” Ran offered it in as even a tone as he could manage. “The finest brandy money can buy will accompany the story. But for the moment could you please excuse me?”

H
e was there. Everyone knew he was there.
She
knew he was there and ignoring it wasn’t working.

Elena accepted a glass of champagne, smiled, and did her best to not look in the least interested in what Viscount Andrews might be doing, but she had no illusions. The evening had been awful so far—more awful than she had imagined.

People watched them. Both of them, which was better, maybe, than when everyone was just watching
her
, but there was also the new challenge of not even glancing his way.

When she very, very much wanted to observe what Ran was doing, maybe even go over, talk to him like they’d done on those long, lazy afternoons, and then…

She was, in a word, hopeless.

He might know more about her than anyone else. It was startling to realize, but their unusual circumstances had prompted some soul-baring confessions she hadn’t even told Alicia. Not that any were earth-shattering, as her upbringing had been fairly conventional, but she’d confessed a few things she might not normally tell anyone.

So the seductive Lord Andrews knew all her secrets but one.

That she’d fallen wildly in love with him. Well, who was to say it wasn’t just a romantic backlash of their adventure and wouldn’t pass quickly?

Except she felt sure that was not true.

“It is a lovely party, is it not?”

Distracted, she almost didn’t catch the question. “Yes. Absolutely. Of course. Quite…lovely.” The stammer wasn’t elegant.

Lord Colbert said in measured tones. “He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Andrews.”

“Oh yes, I noticed he was present.” She smiled with what she hoped was aplomb. They’d just finished their dance and exited the floor, his hand at her elbow, and he’d immediately signaled a passing footman and gotten her some refreshment. So far he’d done nothing more than inquire after her health and comment that he admired her gown. She’d been perversely glad that he hadn’t said more but also anxious to simply get the inevitable discussion over with rather than putting it off.

“And I noticed you noticing.” Her fiancé’s voice was still almost too even considering they hadn’t spoken yet about her disappearance.

The odd aspect of this entire debacle was she liked her possible-but-unlikely-now husband more than ever for his efforts to make it seem as if all was well between them. Perhaps he’d been doing it as much for his pride as for her, but she still appreciated the public display of support. Elena exhaled softly in a rueful laugh. “I am sure you have questions and I will do my best to answer them.”

“Good. I prefer we be frank with each other.”

“And I am grateful for the effort you have made to make it seem as if nothing has happened and not immediately repudiate the engagement.”

Her fiancé regarded her steadily. “I am hoping nothing
did
happen.”

She said nothing in response but neither did she look away. This evening was not going to be about making excuses. Had it been, she might have stayed home.

“Yes,” he murmured eventually, turning enough he could seem to casually survey the room. His tone took on a hint of resignation. “That is what I thought. I’ve talked to Andrews also, and while he didn’t admit anything, he seemed…involved, though he denied culpability. So, what do you wish to do now?”

Involved?

Was he?

Since the beginning of this, no one had ever asked
her
what she wished to do, so that was at least refreshing. “I understand and support a severing of our arrangement.”

Lord Colbert reflected with visible contemplation before he spoke. “I am going to tell you I would not like an heir that does not resemble me in the least.”

That was irrefutably frank, but given the conversation, understandable. And, after all, her father had prepared her for this moment.

At this point she had a clear choice. “You wouldn’t have one,” she told him, because he deserved that much. “But considering the circumstances I don’t blame you for the concern.”

To his credit, his gaze softened. “Someone did this deliberately to you.”

“Or perhaps to us? You cannot believe there were not
some disappointed young ladies when you proposed to me.”

He didn’t answer, deny, or even look surprised. Elena had to smile, though she suspected it was shaky. She went on. “Surely that is as possible as anything else? Men in your position, with money and power, have enemies.”

“Good evening.”

Her breath caught then. Subtle, but there was something unique in the way the words were said, and when she slowly turned, champagne in hand, the gaze of the man standing behind her was so intense it took her breath away.

Ran
. She knew him. Knew that quixotic half smile. Knew the straight shape of his nose, the length of his lashes, the way he woke in the morning, his beguiling smile when he was teasing her…

“Lord Andrews.” She didn’t quite succeed in being completely serene, but she was at least close to seeming calm, her smile faltering only for a moment. “How nice to see you.”

“Lady Elena.” He took her free hand and raised it to his lips.

Theatrical and immediate. In that way he had.

In that very special way he has
.

And the tension was suddenly palpable. All across the ballroom. All across London as far as she could tell, as if the entire core of their social world was avidly attuned to this meeting.

And she could not help but respond in kind to the power of his deliberately charming smile.
Which is why women fall at his feet, and why you shouldn’t be one of them
.

Such a compelling point.

But looking into his dark eyes, it wasn’t quite so easy of a decision. She murmured, “I was not sure what to expect when we saw each other again.”

“You and everyone else. They are currently dying to know what we are saying to each other.” He turned to Colbert. “And how civilized this will be.”

“That is up to you.”

However, when her fiancé slid his arm around her waist, Ran visibly tensed. She did as well since it was not particularly a gesture of affection as much as possession, and an irreverent voice inside her damned all men and their pride straight to Hades.