She stood absolutely still, save for the flutter of a pulse at her neck.
“Actually, I think I prefer to call you Gus,” he went on. “That way, I can delude myself into thinking I am still speaking to a male friend.”
There was a slight waver to her voice when she finally spoke. “Are you so very disappointed that I am not … a man?”
“Hmm. Well, on second thought, the fact of your being female adds some rather interesting facets to the relationships.” His head dropped a touch lower, placing his lips quite close to hers.
“Milord,” she stammered.
“Marcus,” he corrected. The progress of his mouth toward hers was arrested by the sound of rapid footsteps.
“Guv!” The little tiger skittered to a halt on regarding the earl with Augusta in his arms. “I seen two werry seedy lookin’ coves scarper from here, and when ye didn’t appear soon arfter, I thought I best see if ye was alwright.” He kicked at the dirt. “But I sees ye ain’t in need of any assistance.”
Marcus repressed an oath, along with his simmering desire. “Sharp eyes you have, Henry,” he said dryly. “I thank you for your concern, but the seedy-looking coves were only a minor distraction to our stroll. However, since I think Lady Augusta has had enough excitement for one day, why don’t we return to the carriage and see her home without further ado.”
Twelve
“I trust the day’s activities have not proven too strenuous for you to put in an appearance at the Grenville’s ball tonight. Knowing you as I do, I cannot think that such a paltry event as having your life put at risk would have the least effect of dampening your spirit—at least I hope that your nerves are stronger than that, for I need that scrap of waistcoat if I am to begin my inquires first thing in the morning.”
Augusta released a rueful sigh. It had been rather strange to read the earl’s words, knowing, for the first time, that they were truly addressed to her and not some phantom scribble of ink on paper. While it was clear that Marcus didn’t expect her to fall into a girlish fit of megrims, she wasn’t quite sure whether to be heartened or discouraged by that fact. Or the fact that he preferred to call her Gus. No matter that those who knew her best did so, too. With him, it was—how had he put it?—so that he might delude himself into imagining his friend was still a man.
A grimace tugged at her lips. She must not delude herself into imagining that Marcus saw her as anything but a feisty bluestocking who hurled argumentative words and reticules with equal abandon. And it was no use thinking that might change. She had precious little of the delicate sensibilities a man desired in a female. He might prove broadminded enough to tolerate her oddities, but more than that …
“Gus, have you heard a word I have been saying?”
She gave a guilty start and forced her eyes to stop searching the crowded ballroom.”Forgive me, Jamie. I fear my thoughts had momentarily strayed elsewhere.”
“To Cathay, by the look of it,” murmured Ashton. “Is something the matter? You’ve been acting rather oddly of late.”
Odd.There it was again. Even her oldest friend thought her strange. “I have been distracted by certain concerns,” she answered vaguely, brushing at the folds of her gown to mask her unsettled feelings.
He shot her a quizzical glance, then all at once a slow smile started to spread across his face. “Does it perchance have anything to do with the attentions of a certain gentleman?”
Much to her chagrin, Augusta felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks.
Ashton’s expression turned into a sly grin. “I thought I had noticed that Ludlowe was taking a marked interest in you,” he said with a note of satisfaction at being so observant. “He seems a fine enough fellow, and now that I think on it, it makes a good deal of sense that he is on the lookout for a suitable bride, what with the prospect of soon coming into his uncle’s title.”
Before Augusta could find her tongue to disabuse him of such a corkbrained notion, he gave her a little wink and continued. “Inever doubted you would catch on, especially now that you have chosen to, er, dress a little differently than your usual style.”
He took her utter silence as confirmation of his hunch. “Well, I don’t blame you for being distracted. When one’s thoughts are riveted on …” He began to wax poetic about the object of his own affections, giving Augusta a moment to recover from her friend’s conjectures.
Then, her initial urge to dismiss his conjecture as absurd gave way as she thought about it, and a speculative gleam came to her eyes. It was true that she had encouraged Ludlowe’s attentions on several occasions, hoping to pump some sort of useful information out of him.
After all, his was one of the two names left on her list.
But so far, their conversations had not progressed past the normal, vacuous comments on the weather and whether the area surrounding Greenfield Manor promised a decent hunt. However, if she were to give the impression that her feelings were more than simply neighborly, she might be able to learn something of value in an intimate, unguarded moment.
Augusta squeezed her eyes shutas Ashton excused himself to fetch a glass of champagne. Could she pull it off?Could she bat her eyelashes or simper convincingly enough to make him think she had developed a tendre for him? And would it do any good?
Her brow furrowed. If the rumors were true, Ludlowe needed a rich wife, so perhaps she wouldn’t need to depend on mere charm to fix his attention. After all, it was no secret that she would come into a marriage with a sizeable dowry.
“I would ask what has brought such a grim expression to your face, but I fear I wouldn’t want to know.” So intent was Augusta on working out her plans that she failed to notice Marcus’s approach.
His mouth twitched as a guilty look flashed over her features. “Ah, I see that I am not far off the mark.”
The musicians were warming up in prelude to a new melody.
“You’re not the only one thinking of how to discover the information we need,” she said under her breath, turning to hide the fresh flood of heat once again colored her face.Drat the man, she thought rather irritably.And drat herself! Was the simple sound of his voice going to cause fire to pulse through her veins her every time they met?
