The Wagered Heart: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (21 page)

At that moment the duke turned, and above the heads of those around him, his dark penetrating gaze met hers.

For an instant, she felt as if one of the flashes of lightning raging outside sparked between them, leaving her breathless and shocked.

Quickly looking away, she continued to cross the room, feeling slightly dazed.

No matter how she tried, the memory of being in his arms could not be dismissed. She had been completely unprepared for the feelings the intimate encounter had created.

It was not just the unexpected sense of melting passion that stayed with her. It was the duke’s gentleness—mixed with unmistakable desire—that continued to reverberate within her.

The intimate look that just passed between them reminded her of the way he had asked her name before kissing her so gently.

A shiver feathered across the back of her neck and down her spine.

The deep intensity of his whispered question stayed with her like a haunting dream. Odd that such a simple thing could affect her so acutely.

Continuing to cross the room, she suddenly realized that if the duke had not stopped, she would have stayed in his arms without giving a care to the ramifications.

What a widgeon I was to think that I could ever best a man like the duke in games of the heart
, she chided herself. But she wondered again why he had been the first to put an end to their embrace.

Another muffled clap of thunder pulled her from these disturbing thoughts.

As she moved toward Mr. Dillingham and Lady Davinia, she was aware of the heavy, empty feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

Sensing her presence, Lady Davinia turned and smiled. “Dear Miss Allard, how lovely to see you again. I confess I have been hoping to meet you again since our encounter at the Orange Grove.” Lady Davinia’s expression and tone of voice leant sincerity to her words.

“You are too kind, Lady Davinia.” Julia smiled, curtsied, and greeted the dowager and Mr. Dillingham.

“Good evening, Miss Allard. I was just saying to Lady Farren and Lady Davinia that the last time I had such a pleasant evening was at Lady Farren’s wonderful ball.”

“I certainly agree with you, Mr. Dillingham,” Julia said.

“I daresay that I would not be flattering myself to say that my daughter-in-law has learned a bit about entertaining from me,” Lady Farren said, preening shamelessly.

Keeping the smile pasted to her face, Julia decided that it was the better part of valor—and being a good guest—to let this remark pass without comment.

To her relief, a moment later another guest drew the dowager away.

“Miss Allard, I am determined to get to know you better. Do tell me about yourself,” Lady Davinia beseeched.

With a surprised laugh, Julia said, “There is very little to tell.”

Lady Davinia started to reply when the large double doors opened, and Hill, the butler, stepped in.
Three gentlemen passed him in a desultory fashion and strode into the room.

All conversation stopped as everyone turned to see who had arrived.

“My lord Haverstone, my lord Alton, and Mr. Morton,” Hill announced into the sudden silence.

Curiously, Julia looked over at the group. All the men were dressed in expertly tailored evening clothes of the finest material.

The first gentleman took a few more steps into the room and halted. Julia assumed he was Lord Haverstone, as he was the first to be announced. With his weight on one leg in an elegantly negligent fashion, he pulled a quizzing glass as his friends moved to flank him.

With an impressive lack of self-consciousness, Lord Alton raised the glass to his eye and began to leisurely scan the room.

A little distance away, Julia saw Mrs. Thorncroft scurry up behind Mariah. “Posture, Mariah, posture,” she whispered, giving her daughter a swift poke between the shoulder blades.

Turning her gaze back to the gentlemen, Julia felt the anxiousness that had been plaguing her all day swell up and choke her.

“‘Pon my soul, there you are, Kel!” Lord Haverstone said as his gaze came to rest on the duke. “See, Alton, Morton? We have finally run him to ground.”

“Jolly good! Must say Bath is the last place I would have looked,” said Lord Alton.

“Bath is the last place we looked, Alton,” the third gentleman informed him in a dry tone.

Julia took a gulp of air as the men continued to gaze around the room, their expressions conveying a combination of curiosity and haughtiness.

From the corner of her eye, Julia saw the duke, who had been on the opposite end of the room when the men had entered, begin to move toward them.

Clive was closer and overcame his surprise enough to step forward, arms wide in welcome. “My lords, Mr. Morton! How very good of you to come. When we met earlier, I confess that I did not entertain the hope that you would accept my invitation. Welcome, welcome!” He turned and made a quick gesture to one of the footmen. “May I offer you a glass of wine?”

Julia watched in growing alarm as Clive continued to make the newcomers welcome. An instant later, Caro hurried forward, her face wreathed in a smile of delighted welcome.

Maybe her earlier fit of nerves had been some sort of premonition, Julia thought, for although she felt alarmed, she was not truly surprised to see these three men.

Always in the back of her mind, since meeting Lord Mattonly, was the possibility that the duke’s other friends might turn up as well. As the days had passed, she had grown less worried, but the niggling fear had not gone completely away.

Now, standing beneath the ornate, crystal chandelier, her fingers reflexively gripped the handle of her ivory fan. White flashes of lightning, coming through the half-closed drapery knifed through the room’s warm, candlelit glow.

Her gaze stayed on the three elegant men as Clive and Caro fluttered around them, looking excessively pleased. As if in slow motion, Julia watched the duke making his way through the clusters of guests.

Although some of the guests had resumed their conversations, the noise level was not what it had been a few moments ago.

Almost absentmindedly, Julia took note of Lord Alton. The tallest of the three, he was handsome despite
his harsh features. His raven hair and blue eyes seemed to confirm the coldness she sensed from him.

He was only half paying attention to his hosts as Julia watched him raise the quizzing glass to his left eye. He resumed his casual perusal of the other guests, heedless that a number of them stared back.

Another flash sliced across the salon, and Julia saw the lightning flicker eerily off Lord Haverstone’s quizzing glass. A rumble of thunder shortly followed.

An instant later, her gaze met his light blue eyes for a brief moment, and then his gaze moved on. Julia held her breath as she saw Lord Haverstone’s body still before he swung his gaze back to her.

He stared for a moment and then swept her figure with keen regard. Lowering his glass, he turned to his friends. “Egad,” he drawled, “Kel, do confess that this is the gel that you kissed on Bolton Street last year. No wonder we could never find her—she’s been in Bath, of all godforsaken places.”

Julia’s breathing froze. If the room had not been so unnaturally quiet because of their unexpected arrival, she was sure that no one but the duke would have heard this comment. But by their shocked expressions, it was apparent to her that Lady Davinia and Mr. Dillingham must have heard Lord Haverstone’s words.

Taking a very deep breath, Julia felt oddly detached from her surroundings. She only felt a stab of regret that Caro’s lovely party was about to be thoroughly ruined.

Seemingly oblivious to the other guests, Mr. Morton stepped forward and squinted at Julia for a moment. Glancing over his shoulder, he tossed the duke a grin. “Kel, you sly dog! We’ve been scratchin’ our noggins as to why you would choose to rusticate in Bath. Well, well, well! Now we know why.”

Sparing a brief glance to the duke, Julia saw the
thunderous frown come to his brow, before she looked at Caro. Her cousin’s expression was deeply pained, and Clive and his mama looked thunderstruck.

The duke stepped forward, and Julia felt an immediate and overwhelming need to escape.

She could feel everyone’s eyes upon her as she quickly looked around for the quickest way of leaving the room.

The duke and his odious friends were between her and the double doors that opened to the hall, which led to the staircase.

Her only other choice was to go into the dining room, which had a door that led into the kitchen and French doors that opened to the back garden.

Refusing to so much as glance in the duke’s direction, Julia lifted her chin in unconscious defiance. In a last desperate attempt to salvage a shred of her dignity, she struggled for an air of naturalness and grace as she swept into a deep curtsy.

“Please excuse me,” she said, rising as smoothly as she could.

Fighting the urge to run, she moved past a number of guests, opened one of the dining room doors, stepped into the room, and closed it behind her, leaving the gaping faces behind.

Several servants, in the midst of putting the final touches to the gorgeous dining table, looked up in shock, for dinner would not be served for another fifteen minutes.

Without uttering a word, Julia walked the length of the table to the French doors. Wincing at a flash of lightning, she opened the door and stepped into the storm-swept garden.

W
 ithin seconds of stepping into the garden, Julia was soaked. Squinting into the driving rain, she looked around for a place to shelter.

Instantly, she recalled the folly in the far corner of the garden. It was built in the style of a miniature Roman ruin, with four columns and an open work lattice roof with trailing vines. Gathering handfuls of her sodden gown, she lifted it enough so that she could run across the lawn with ease.

By the time she reached the folly, her slippers were oozing with mud and her gown clung to her in heavy wet folds.

Leaning against one of the stone pillars, she looked up at the vine-covered lattice that acted as the roof. It afforded little protection from the downpour, but she did not care. Staying one more second in the salon was an intolerable thought.

Pushing away from the pillar, she wrapped her arms around her waist and moved to the bench. Sitting down on the cold stone, she looked back toward the townhouse. The draperies were open on the long windows on either side of the French doors. The light spilling from the windows and the full moon glowing
through the rolling clouds, kept her haven from being enveloped in darkness.

Good heavens! What had she just done? Raising her cold wet fingers to her cheeks, she could not prevent a horrified laugh. What a shocking mess she had left Caro to deal with.

Leaving was better than staying to endure more of the duke’s friends’ cutting comments, she thought angrily.

However, there was no escaping the truth that this was truly a dreadful situation. It was bad enough to have people whispering about her in Chippenham—at least no one had known exactly what had occurred in London. But now…she shook her head in despair.

“Now what?” she said aloud, lowering her hands to her lap.

“You took the words out of my mouth.”

At the sound of his deep voice, Julia jumped up to stare at the duke in utter shock. Even the thunder suspended its fury for a moment.

The rain had plastered down his hair, and his cravat hung in damp folds. The brooding concern so obviously etched on his face gave her a moment’s pause.

“Julia, please allow me to apologize for my friend’s crass behavior. I know this must be embarrassing…”

“Embarrassing? Do you think I care?” she said, well aware of the ring of false bravado in her tone. The look of surprised confusion on his face gave her a brief flicker of satisfaction. “I am beyond being embarrassed by what you did that day in London, Your Grace.” She pushed a wet strand of hair off her cheek with a quick, angry gesture.

He moved away from the pillar and took a stride closer. “I can understand your anger…”

Her harsh laugh coincided with a flash of lightning.
The patter of raindrops grew louder on the stone floor.

“I am all astonishment at how understanding you are. It is rather amusing really—just when I decided to quit this game, your boorish friends arrive,” she said with a bemused shake of her head before continuing. “Please spare me your understanding.”

He stood before her in silence. Another crack of thunder illuminated the garden, and for a split second, his frowning, chiseled features were revealed in stark detail.

“You decided to quit this game,” he repeated, his voice had the beginnings of a slight edge. “So the truth is finally beginning to surface. I confess you have held my interest with your so-called game. It has been amusing to guess what you will do next—one day you seem as if you wish to challenge me to fisticuffs, the next you are willingly in my arms.”

“Oh, that? Heavens, that was just a lark. You know all about larks, don’t you, Your Grace?”

Her breath caught as she strained to see his face. Finally the words were out, and she hoped they had drawn blood.

Clenching her rain-damp hands to her sides, she waited for his reaction. Watching him closely, she saw his eyes narrow slightly as he shifted his weight so that his legs were braced shoulder width apart.

“So that’s the way of it. You
have
been playing a very cool game. I am curious as to what happened to change your mind since our regrettably innocent kiss at Sydney Gardens. Or did you just lose your nerve?”

Julia took note of the sarcastic emphasis he had put on the words “regrettably innocent.” With a searing flash, her ire rose anew. “No, just my interest.”

Her anger was even more piercing because his words rang true. She
had
lost her nerve, but not the
way he meant. With a clarity that shamed her, she realized that her courage to exact revenge failed her because she had been foolish enough to become attracted to him.

As the rain continued to beat down upon them through the inadequate lattice roof, she realized that she did not feel the least bit of satisfaction at having lashed out at him.