The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (12 page)

Lifting her chin, she stepped away from the wall and began to move slowly toward Caro’s mother-in-law. As if her hazardous decision had somehow heightened her senses, she was aware the instant the duke’s eyes found her.

Could she really do it? She experienced a moment of hesitation, as if she were about to walk into a darkened room with no idea what lay ahead.

Pushing aside the specter of fear and throwing away all caution, she turned fully around and looked directly at the duke. Above the heads of the swaying dancers, she allowed a slow and, she hoped, alluring smile to spread across her lips.

T
 here was nothing hesitant or shy about the way his gaze met and stayed on hers. Breathless at the shock his intense, glittering gaze caused her senses, Julia realized nothing in her life had prepared her for a moment like this.

Trying to calm her galloping pulse, she forced herself to breathe slowly—it would be mortifying to have him know how nervous she was. There was something so knowing, so assessing in his gaze, that she found it more difficult than she had imagined to hold his gaze.

From the corner of her eye, Julia saw the petite figure of Mrs. Crowley approaching. Unhurriedly, she pulled her gaze from the duke’s, but not before she saw a rakish half-smile appear on his lips.

Turning, she smiled her response to Mrs. Crowley’s greeting. So tightly strung were her senses, she was almost physically attuned to the moment the duke moved.

Without looking in his direction, she was aware of his tall frame strolling around the edge of the dance floor, stopping here and there to speak with other guests.

“Do you not think the waltz is lovely?”

Pulling her attention back to Mrs. Crowley, Julia quickly nodded, lest the lady think she was rude. “Yes, and terribly romantic.”

“Only a few of the grand hostesses here in Bath allow the waltz to be danced at their private gatherings. The Master of Ceremonies at the Upper Room will not hear of allowing the waltz,” the older lady stated, before turning her attention back to the dancers.

Julia turned her attention to the floor also, and her gaze swept the festive, colorful crowd. For the first time, she noticed a large gilt-framed pier glass hanging on the opposite wall.

Because she was at a slight angle, she could see a good part of the room, and was able to admire the swaying gowns and glittering jewels reflected in the glass.

A moment later, she caught sight of the duke and discreetly kept her eyes upon his reflection.

She hated his arrogant, handsome face with every fiber of her being. Watching how everyone feted and gushed over him steeled her resolve to exact some kind of revenge—to pierce his pride in the only way she knew how. The graceful music and the happy hum of the guests only seemed to accentuate the power of her feelings.

She continued to watch the pier glass as he made his way inexorably closer to her. With every step he took, her heart beat a little faster and her breath seemed to pause tremulously in her throat.

Mrs. Crowley stayed at her side, chatting about the dancers. Julia was grateful not to be alone at this moment.

The duke disengaged himself from a gentleman, and as he turned away, their gazes met in the pier glass. Her eyes froze on his, and she was astonished that the unexpected meeting felt almost like a physical touch.

Instinctively, she glanced away. But a moment later, she stiffened her resolve and turned her gaze back to his.

He was much closer to her now, and she felt the gooseflesh rise down the length of her arms. This was the moment, she thought in rising waves of panic. And she knew, with a conviction as clear as the music that filled the room, that her entire plan hinged on this moment.

“Good evening, Miss Allard.”

Had she noticed how deep his voice was before this moment, she wondered as the deep timbre vibrated over her skin.

Lifting her chin slightly, she looked directly into his disturbing hazel eyes.

“Good evening, Your Grace, are you acquainted with Mrs. Crowley?” she asked, curtsying before turning to present the petite matron.

Mrs. Crowley flushed and choked on a giggle and actually curtsied twice.

With smooth, spare grace, the duke inclined his head to Mrs. Crowley.

“Oh, Your Grace, we are so pleased to have you in Bath,” Mrs. Crowley gushed.

The duke raised one brow and flicked a quick amused glance to Julia, and she felt slightly taken aback by the intimate, conspiratorial feeling that look evoked within her.

As he responded to Mrs. Crowley, Julia was aware of what a novel experience it was for her to be next to a man so much taller than she was. It was something she rarely encountered, and it was not just his height but the imposing breadth of his shoulders that made her feel almost petite for the first time in her life.

The melody of the waltz faded away, and Julia saw Caro leading Clive over, her expression anxious.

The orchestra struck up the opening notes of a quadrille.

Again, a thrill raced up Julia’s spine at her daring. She knew that any second Caro would try to rescue her. She must act quickly if she were to seize this chance. With a confidence born of a year’s worth of suppressed anger, she gave the duke an intimate look of her own.

Julia held her breath and waited. She hoped fervently that he would unwittingly aid her in her plan to exact her revenge upon him.

“Miss Allard, if you are spoken for this set, I shall be desolate,” he drawled with an answering smile.

“No, this dance is not bespoken, Your Grace.”

“Would you do me the honor?”

With a gesture of supreme confidence, he held out his hand toward her. Lifting her hand toward his, his long fingers engulfed hers. The moment she felt the warmth of his fingers through her glove, that same breathless feeling came over her once again.

Looking down at her slim hand held by his strong fingers, she paused for a moment before moving off with him.

The other dancers took their places, and Julia was keenly aware that a number of eyes were directed toward her and the duke.

Keeping her expression as composed as she could, she glanced over and saw Caro standing next to Clive with her mouth agape. Julia had to look away from the stunned expression on her cousin’s face, for she was afraid she would lose her nerve.

As the music rose, Julia abandoned herself to the mood permeating the flower-scented, candlelit room. Purposely and with determination, she set aside any trepidation that still lingered.

The dance began with them facing each other, followed by several turns and passes.

At the first pass, in the chassé style, she took her courage in both hands, and with a little toss of her head, she gave the duke her most dazzling smile and passed him much too closely, her bare shoulder lightly brushing the sleeve of his black evening coat.

As she did this, she looked up at him and felt a little disheartened when he did not react as she hoped. Not that she was at all sure what to expect—certainly not the slightly amused quirk of a smile he shot her. But at least he made no evasive move.

Through the steps of the dance, they came together and parted numerous times, saying nothing. He was a very good dancer, she observed, continuing to move as close to him as possible, gazing into his eyes in what she hoped was a fascinating manner.

With a feeling of deflation, she noticed he did not appear to be at all dazzled. She guessed that was too much to hope for in a matter of five minutes—especially from a jaded rake.

But he was gazing at her with a disturbing intensity, curiously in contrast with the sophisticated, enigmatic smile he wore. During the exchange where the gentlemen circled the ladies, he took her lead and moved behind her, so near that she felt his warmth on the back her bare nape.

Suppressing a shiver of awareness, she glanced over her shoulder to gaze at him with an expression of open admiration.

Never in the whole of her life had she behaved in such a forward manner. In the part of her mind that could still think clearly, she knew that if they were here, her aunt and uncle would be looking at her disapprovingly.

They met in the center, held hands, and crossed in front of each other; she moved so closely in front of him that she saw the green flecks surrounding the inky pupils of his chestnut eyes.

Something about his unaffected self-confidence rattled her sense of purpose. It occurred to her that it would be much easier to carry out her scheme if he were not so terribly attractive. And it was more than galling to realize that he found it perfectly natural
for her to be
flirting with him in this unguarded way. Oh, she wanted to see that arrogant expression wiped off his face.

She gave him another sideways little smile, allowing her gaze to linger on his for several seconds too long. As hard as she tried, she could not hold his piercing gaze and was the first to look away.

Another moment of heart-thumping panic gripped her. How could she do this? The wisest thing she could do was stop this nonsense before it went further. It was certainly not too late to extricate herself from what at this stage could only be termed as a mild flirtation.

But another glance at his arrogant countenance kept her from retreating.

Resolutely, she pushed thoughts of tomorrow from her mind. There was only tonight and the disturbing presence of her hated enemy. If she could secure his interest now, she would decide what to do about it later.

Making another graceful turn, she realized it would be easier said than done.

Glancing around, she saw that more than a few pairs of eyes were upon her and the duke as they went through the steps of the dance. The staid residents of Bath were certainly being treated to a rare sight this evening.

A devilish smile lurked at the corner of his mouth as they met in the center, hands clasping briefly before separating again. Schooling her breathing to a slower pace, she sent him a smile that she hoped conveyed that she welcomed his touch.

Finally, to her great relief, the quadrille ended and the duke was unhurriedly guiding her back to where Caro was standing, staring at her in near horror.

The pounding of Julia’s heart had nothing to do with dancing as the duke amiably greeted Lord and Lady Farren.

She held her breath, hoping he would not just bow and take his leave.

Caro was still gazing at Julia, but her expression was not as obviously appalled as it had been a few moments ago. It was apparent that she was making an effort to regain her composure.

Knowing from past experience that sometimes Caro spoke before thinking, Julia hoped her cousin would not blurt out something foolish.

Before anything other than pleasantries could be exchanged, Clive’s mama called to him. Bowing to Julia and the duke, he took a very reluctant Caro off with him.

Now that she found herself relatively private with the duke, Julia could not think of a thing to say that sounded the least bit beguiling.

“You are certainly an interesting young lady, Miss Allard.”

“Oh? How so, Your Grace?” She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye, relieved that he started the conversation.

“I would have wagered a good sum of money that, before this evening, you did not hold me in high regard,” he said in a languid tone.

“And now you think I do not?” she teased, watching his left eyebrow lift at her words.

“I confess that you leave me curious. But if you have forgiven me for…er…our encounter in London last year, then I own I’d be excessively pleased.”

Feeling as if she might choke on the words, Julia
made a great effort to smile up at him. “Of course I have, Your Grace. Did you not make the prettiest speech when you apologized to me? I understand completely that it was just a high-spirited lark. Please, do not give it another thought.”

At the hint of a frown between his brows and the assessing light that entered his eyes, Julia wondered if she had done the thing too brown. Her heart skipped at the thought of giving herself away this early in the game.

“You are exceedingly generous. I wonder if I would be were I in your shoes.”

“I’m sure you would be, but that’s behind us now. Tell me, Your Grace, are you intending to stay in Bath for the Season?” She opened her fan and waved it in a languid manner, doing her best to gaze at him with avid interest.

He continued to look at her with a contemplative expression before answering.

“I believe I shall. Bath is quite restful compared to the feverish pace of London.”

Shrugging lightly, she continued to wave her fan and attempted to keep her tone of voice airy. “I would not know.”
Watch yourself, my girl, his left brow went up again.
She smiled at him to dispel any hint of coldness in her response.

“You do not like London?”

“I was only there a short while. But I very much like Bath, and have been having a delightful visit with my cousin and her husband.”

“Lord and Lady Farren are indeed delightful; I am pleased to make their acquaintance. May I ask where you call home, Miss Allard?”

“I live on the outskirts of Chippenham, with my aunt and uncle. My uncle is not fond of being away from home, so I have come to visit Lord and Lady Farren without them.”

“They must miss you.”

“I hope so. But it is nice to be away. I shall have much to share when I return home.”

“And what sorts of amusements have you discovered in Bath?”

“Any number of delightful entertainments. We ride, walk, visit, and shop. We go to parties and the assemblies at the Upper Rooms and to the Gardens when they have concerts.” She finished, prodigiously pleased that he had not yet left her side.

“I believe there is going to be a special gala night at Sydney Gardens in honor of Princess Charlotte’s wedding,” the duke put in, smiling down at her.

“Yes, it promises to be memorable—they are planning a grand display of fireworks.”

“Then hopefully we shall see each other there. But before then, would you care to join me in a carriage ride? We could go to one of the parks and indulge your love of walking.”