Shana Galen (6 page)

“Then stop being impulsive for once, Lucia.”
Francesca squeezed her sister’s hand with meaning. “Think what you’re doing. Marriage isn’t temporary. This is the rest of your life.”

“I know, Francesca. I’m not as capricious as you seem to think. I’ve thought this out, and it would be wrong of me not to marry just because I don’t love Reginald. People marry every day who can barely tolerate each other’s company, and Reginald really does try to please me.”

“I know he does, but Dandridge and his mother can be so controlling. You won’t have any freedom.”

“Would it be any different if I married another man or became a spinster? At least a married woman has some freedom, and Dandridge and I get along very well when I keep my temper in check and mind what I say.”

“Lucia!” Francesca’s jaw dropped. “You know you can’t keep that up forever. Do you want to live your whole life playing a part? Some men are always going to be threatened by your spirit, but there are men who’ll appreciate it, too.”

“
I
have yet to find one.” She held up her hand as Francesca opened her mouth again, probably to make suggestions. “In any case, I can’t break the engagement. Father would surely disown me.”

“He would not,” Francesca said firmly.

Lucia sighed, looked away. Her sister huffed, grumbled, and gave in. “Well, he might be a little angry at first,” she admitted. “But you could always live with Ethan and me.”

“And ruin all the good graces you’ve brought to the Winterbourne name?” Lucia shook her head. “No. For once I’m going to do what’s expected of me.”

No matter how much she despised it.

“T
he Right Honorable Viscount Dandridge and the Honorable Miss Dashing.”

Alex grit his teeth at the butler’s announcement. He turned slowly, muzzling his temper until he could vent it, and saw Lucia and her pompous fiancé greeting the widowed Mrs. Seaton, her daughter, and her son. The drawing room in the Seatons’ town house on Davies Street had just become much too crowded.

Alex scowled. What the devil was Lucia doing here? Like the rest of the ladies and gentlemen privileged enough to belong to the upper echelons of the
ton
, she should have been on her way to the Duke of York’s ball.

Ah, but there would be no way to interfere in his investigation of her brother’s absence at the duke’s ball. Here she could find an infinite number of opportunities to get in the way. With mounting irritation, Alex saw she was already at work, engaging her
brother’s friend, William Seaton, in conversation as soon as Dandridge left her side. Alex would put a stop to this right now. She and that buffoon Dandridge could turn right around and be on their way to the duke’s.

Lucia’s discussion with their host was brief, and Alex intercepted her at the far end of the drawing room the Seatons had converted into a ballroom for the evening.

“Lord Sel—”

He slashed her a look and, taking her arm, barreled through the guests. He spotted a semiprivate alcove at the far end of the room, where the refreshments had been squeezed in, and tugged her toward it.

“Lord Selbourne!” she hissed and tried to pull away.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He thrust her into the alcove, then caught her elbow and spun her to face him.

“Unhand me, sir, or I shall—”

“Stubble it, Lucia,” he growled, but he released her. “I don’t have the patience tonight.”

Her eyes were beginning to resemble those Yorkshire storm clouds again, and Alex fully expected one of her scathing rejoinders, but instead she straightened, met his gaze, and…
smiled?
Alex’s senses went on alert.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” he repeated.

“I was thirsty.” Her voice had more sugar in it than one of Gunther’s ices. “I was about to get a glass of ratafia.”

“Well you can bloody well get it at the duke’s.”

“Oh, but I can’t!” she replied, all wide-eyed innocence. “It would be in
very
bad taste to leave so soon after arriving.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

Alex clenched his hands to keep them from curling around her skinny neck. Lucia was about as sweet as King George was sane. “I know what you’re doing. And you might fool your parents or fiancé, but you don’t fool me.”

She flicked her fan open and waved it lazily. “I’m sure I don’t take your meaning.”

He leaned closer. “Save the playacting for Drury Lane. It’s wasted on me.” But he had to admit that she was putting on a pretty good performance, not that it surprised him. He imagined she’d had years to perfect it.

Still in character, she tossed her curls. “Your incivility is really quite tedious, Lord Selbourne.” Her tone exuded weariness, but he saw the storm clouds flash in her eyes, and a surge of lightning bolted through him. He kept forgetting her beauty—not that she
was
beautiful, but that she was so achingly beautiful.

Last night it had been too dark to see her clearly, but this morning, with the sun streaming through the breakfast room bathing her in golden light, she’d been glorious. By the light of the moon, her hair had shone pale blond, almost silver, but in the morning sunshine it gleamed like spun gold.

But it was her eyes that drew him. They were the darkest blue he’d ever seen. The same blue as the ocean at the point where the safe shallow waters ended and the sandy floor plunged downward into the unknown. She would have been beautiful without those eyes, but with them she was exquisite—exotic, untamed. A man couldn’t help but look twice. And though he knew her to be young and innocent, one look from those eyes—wide with just a slight tilt at the corners—was a full-blown seduction. How
could he have forgotten how tempting she was in the space of only a few hours?

He shook his head. Her eyes hadn’t pulled him into that dark water quite yet, and he was still in possession of enough of his senses to see through her façade of artlessness. “I know why you’re here, Lucia.”

She opened those big blue eyes wider. “My lord, do you think such intimacy is appropriate?” She put her hand on his arm.

“Don’t flirt with me, brat.” He shook her gloved hand off his sleeve, and her smile faltered.

“I made it clear this morning that I don’t need your assistance in this matter.” He made the mistake of leaning closer to emphasize his point, and her scent enveloped him. It reminded him of home, of a time long, long ago—a time and an innocence he thought he’d forgotten. She smelled of his mother’s soft voice, his father’s laughter, and his favorite dessert. She was vanilla and cinnamon, a scent as delicious and enticing as the woman she’d grown to be.

She blinked at him, the artifice in her features dissolving. “And I’m
not
interfering in your little matter,” she said through tight lips. “I’m simply going to spend a few hours at the Seatons’ ball. After all, Mr. Seaton is a dear friend of
my
brother. No one will wonder what I am doing here.
Your
presence, however, might well be the cause of speculation.” She looked over his shoulder, pretending to count the number of guests whispering about him.

Alex frowned. She had a point. He’d been thinking the same thing right before she’d arrived. He could hardly approach Seaton and ask directly about Lucia’s brother. The two men had never been introduced, and Alex didn’t even have an invitation to the ball. Not that anyone would dare refuse him en
trance; his presence here could only elevate the Seaton family in the eyes of the
ton
, but Seaton might not see it that way. And he’d get nowhere if the boy was offended or suspicious.

Lucia was still pretending to survey the room, though smiling with triumph.

Damn.

He needed her, after all. She could approach Seaton as any concerned sister might, and the man would think nothing of it.

Damn. He forced himself to speak, voice so low he could barely hear it in the din of the room. “You have a point.”

“What was that?” she asked. She’d heard, of course. He could tell by her irritating smile. He imagined emptying a glass of ratafia over her head, and this time the words were almost too easy. “I said, you have a point.”

“I do?” Her hands flew to her heart in feigned astonishment, and Alex looked around for a footman with a beverage tray.

He didn’t see one and settled for scowling at her. “Yes. You do. What are you going to do about it? You can’t exactly pull Seaton into a dark corner and quiz him about Dashing for a quarter hour. Not unless you want to irritate your fiancé as well as give the
ton
a new topic for gossip.” Ignoring the fact that he was doing just that, Alex jammed a shoulder against the wall of the alcove, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. That ought to erase her gleeful smirk.

“I don’t need a dark corner, Selbourne,” she said and gave him a genuine smile. “My plan is simple, and that is the beauty of it.”

Alex clenched his jaw in irritation and apprehension.

“A simple plan is always the best.” She waved an
arm, emphasizing her point. “If one strays from simplicity—”

“
Lucia
.”

She glanced at his face and sighed. “I have already promised Seaton the first dance.”

“What? How?” Forgetting his intention to appear smug, he jumped as if bitten by the wall he’d been resting against. “You just arrived.”

The triumphant look returned to her eyes. “I’ve promised Seaton a country dance.”

“And Dandridge?”

“I’ve promised him the second dance. The cotillion, I believe.” She sounded bored, as though it was all part of her daily routine.

Alex shook his head in disbelief as she craned on tiptoes to scan the room, probably trying to judge how soon the dancing would begin. Alex squinted at her. “There’s something stuck in your hair,” he said picking at the wreath circling her head.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch! They’re grapes, and they’re all the crack.” She raised her chin a notch. “Lord, but you’re appallingly ignorant in matters of fashion. It’s a wonder
you
look so presentable tonight.”

He wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. And as her eyes took quick stock of him, he had to resist the ridiculous urge to straighten his cravat.

She glanced back at the room. “In any case, we can’t idle about talking like this all night. My reputation won’t withstand many public appearances with you, so if you’d planned to dance with me, I’m afraid you’ll have to suspend that pleasure.”

Alex snorted. “I don’t dance.”

“Well, that won’t do,” she said matter-of-factly. “The dancing is about to start, and you must begin it.”

The heavens were obviously involved in some conspiracy against him because just then the strains of violin and cello strings rose above the clamor of voices as the orchestra began to tune.

“I think Miss Seaton would be the appropriate partner,” Lucia announced. “Here, I’ll introduce you.”

“No need.” Alex crossed his arms. “I’m not dancing.”

She frowned, for the first time taking him seriously. “But you must! You’re the highest-ranking gentleman here. Think how poor Miss Seaton will feel if you refuse to dance with her. And—” She nodded frantically in the direction of the ballroom behind him. “Here comes Seaton now—with his sister.”

Alex turned to follow her wild gesturing, looking past Miss Seaton to survey the room. Damn if he, an earl, wasn’t the highest-ranking peer in attendance and expected to begin the ball. He could refuse, but that would hardly endear him to Seaton and he might yet need to question the man about Dashing. Frowning, he leveled a look at their host—headed directly for him, terrified little sister in tow.

“Don’t scowl,” Lucia whispered. “You’ll frighten her.”

He turned his scowl on her, but her attention was focused on the advancing brother and sister.

“And don’t talk with Miss Seaton too much,” she said through her smile, “or you’ll destroy her reputation.”

“Won’t I ruin it anyway?” he asked, moving out of the alcove.

“No. You’ll merely create some interest in the girl.” She gave him an assessing look. “She’s as likely as not to thank you for it.”

Alex lifted an eyebrow. The Seaton chit looked as though she were preparing to meet an executioner rather than a dance partner.

Lucia moved forward to greet the siblings, placing her hand on Alex’s arm as she did so. “Meet me on the terrace after the second dance.” Before he could even reply, she curtsied. “Mr. Seaton. Miss Seaton. How good to see you again. Lord Selbourne, may I introduce my brother’s dear friend Mr. William Seaton?”

Grudgingly, Alex stepped forward.

The country dance was half over before Alex thought to glance down the row of couples and check on Lucia’s progress with Seaton. It wasn’t that his own partner had captured his attention—the mousy seventeen-year-old hadn’t uttered a single audible syllable. From the look on her face, Alex surmised she was in a state of mortal terror, probably imagining he would offer her a carte blanche any moment.

Alex had spent most of the grueling dance attempting, without success, to pinpoint exactly where life had gone wrong. He figured he had plenty of sins to atone for but couldn’t remember any egregious enough to warrant this hell of the ballroom and this terrified girl, barely out of the schoolroom, on his arm. The sin must have been serious, though, because he was already paying for another of his transgressions by having to deal with his defiant sister-in-law. And Alex was becoming increasingly convinced that, in the case of Lucia, the punishment did not fit the crime.

Damn, what he wouldn’t give to return to France and his work. His thoughts flashed back to the seedy tavern in Calais and his meeting with Pitt. Bonaparte’s plan was ludicrous—impossible. He’d never pull it off.

But if he did…

Alex prayed whomever Wentworth had sent in his place knew what he was doing. Right now England needed the Foreign Office’s best men.

And what was he doing for England? Wallowing about London, eating and drinking too much, forced into the company of men and women he detested, and chasing after spoiled sons of peers. Thinking of Old Boney, Alex cursed aloud, startling Miss Seaton a shade paler.

He gave her a terse smile, then a genuine one as memories of the sweet redhead he’d bedded in a seedy Calais tavern just before he’d sailed for England came to mind. While his ship was being outfitted, he spent the better part of his wait sampling her charms. From the redhead, his thoughts wandered to Hampshire and the buxom barmaid at the Horse and Plow—she had certainly kept him diverted.

But since Ethan’s request for help with Dashing and Alex’s arrival in London, there’d been no one. He’d been too long without a woman. That must be the reason for the intense desire he felt whenever Lucia Dashing was near.

He glanced at Lucia again, calculating when the dance forms would dictate that she and Seaton move near him. When they did, he had to restrain himself from reaching out, grabbing her partner, and knocking the man’s teeth out. The look in Seaton’s eye was far from brotherly, and Lucia was actually flirting with him. The devil take him if she wasn’t smiling coyly and tossing her curls. Gritting his teeth, Alex added her propensity for flirtation to the list of items he planned to address with her when they met on the terrace.

Her gown was at the top of the list. He couldn’t
conceive how the revealing dress had escaped his notice before. It was cut far too low, and Alex didn’t give a damn that it was modest when compared to the gowns other ladies of the
ton
flaunted. This was Lucia, not some other woman.

He liked that the dress, Grecian in style, was simple and unadorned. But it also bared the swell of her lovely white breasts to every male eye present, and the thin, shimmery white silk pooled around her in an erotic swirl as she executed the movements of the dance.