Augusta’s hands balled into fists at her side. “Odious, overbearing man,” she retorted in a near whisper.
“Stubborn, willful termagant,” he replied through gritted teeth.
There was a discreet cough as a well-dressed figure paused in his approach. “I had hoped to claim my spot on your card, Lady Augusta, but if you would rather continue what looks to be a fascinating conversation, I could return at another time.” Ludlowe’s cool gaze regarded the two of them, each rigid with anger, and a look of faint amusement played on his lips.
“Indeed not,” said Augusta emphatically, reaching out her hand to him with what she hoped was a brilliant smile. “I am delighted with the prospect of having the chance to enjoy such a charming partner as you, sir.” Her tone left little doubt as to her opinion of her present company.
Ludlowe gave a slight bow, then proffered his arm. “Well then, if you will excuse us, Dunham, I believe the set is forming.”
It was onlywith great difficulty that Marcus restrained the urge to utter a certain oath aloud. But he thought it as he watched Augusta walk away arm in arm with the other man.Hell’s teeth!he added for good measure. Didn’t she have any idea of how perilous a course she might be setting for herself? After a moment’s consideration, he decided the problem was not that she failed to grasp the danger, rather that she refused to allow it to stop her.
His foot began to tap impatiently on the polished parquet. No doubt Lady Augusta would take great pains to avoid being alone with him any time during the rest of the evening. He could hardly pick her up and bodily carry her from the room, though the thought was sorely tempting—for more than one reason.
Damnation.Why was it that even when he was furious with her, those flashing hazel eyes had the most unsettling physical effect on his person? As she had brushed past him, he had wanted to reach out and stop her, not the least because his fingers were burning to feel the soft heat of her cheek and bury themselves once more in the silkiness splendor of those wheaten tresses.
With a start, Marcus realized it was waltz that was playing, and that she and her partner were gliding toward where he stood. His eyes locked on the gentle swaying of her hips, then moved up to the gloved hand lightly pressed at the small of her back. For an instant it was he, and not just an unknown villain, who was contemplating murder.
Then, getting a grip on his wayward emotions, he turned on his heel and stalked to the far end of the room where he soughtanother glass of champagne to dampen down the worst of his ire.
“Good evening, Lord Dunham.”
The earl’s head jerked around. He had come to halt next to where Marianne—not yet approved by the patrons of Almack’s to waltz—and one of her admirers were sitting out the dance. Wiping the scowl off his face as best he could, he gave a curt nod in acknowledgement of her greeting.
“Good evening, Lady Marianne. I trust you are enjoying the activities as much as your sister is.” The words came out rather more sharply than he had intended.
Marianne stole a quick glance at Augusta turning in step with Lord Ludlowe and a slight crease furrowed her brow. It disappeared in an instant, replaced by her usual sunny expression. “Yes, the music is quite delightful. Indeed, I find I have worked up quite a thirst on the dance floor.” Turning to her partner with a charming smile, she said, “Lord Andover, would you mind terribly fetching me a glass of lemonade? And perhaps another glass of champagne for His Lordship?”
The young man by her side jumped to his feet with alacrity. “Of course, Lady Marianne.”
As soon as he had hurried off, she spoke again, concern replacing gaiety in her voice.”Has something changed that Augusta has not seen fit to mention to me, sir? Or is Lord Ludlowe still one of her prime suspects?”
Marcus slanted her a look of grudging approval for such a quick grasp of the matter, even as his mouth set in a grim line. “You are not mistaken. Once again, your sister has seen fit to throw caution to the wind and sail full tilt into battle. But this time, I fear she is facing the very real risk of running hard aground.”
He drew in a measured breath. “She means to encourage some measure of intimacy between them, with the idea ofwheedling some incriminating evidence out of him. If Ludlowe is the guilty party, he has proven that he is no fool. Nor is he a man to be trifled with, as the events of this past afternoon have proved.”
Marianne went a bit paler. “What do you mean, sir?”
“She didn’t tell you about the attack?”
“No. She did not.”
His lips compressed even more. “As you see, she doesn’t see fit to tell you everything.”
Marianne swallowed hard. “Is there nothing you can do to convince her to abandon such a perilous course? She seems to … pay some attention to you.”
A muttered “Ha!” was his only reply. Marcus then lapsed into a gloomy silence as he contemplated the tips of his polished evening shoes. After several minutes, he cleared his throat and was about to speak again when interrupted by the reappearance of Marianne’s admirer.
“Here is your lemonade, Lady Marianne.” Lord Andover’s cheerful tone faltered on taking in the earl’s stony expressions. “And, er, your champagne, sir.”
“I believe Lady Marianne requested ratafia punch. The champagne you may leave with me.”
The young man handed the glass over to Marcus. “I-I am quite sure she said?—”
“Are you contradicting the lady?” inquired Marcus softly. “Or me?”
“Ah, no, sir.”
“Good. Especially if you expect me to put you up for membership in the Four-In-Hand Club any time soon.”
