He was here, though. She couldn’t have mistaken that tall lean grace and primrose hair, made more brilliant by dark evening clothes.
He was here.
Alive.
Ready to fulfill his bargain.
With a sudden beat of the heart, she knew it had begun.
Chapter Three
When the set was over, Maria felt flushed, an unusual occurrence for her. She plied her fan as her wasps gathered, all seeking the next chance at the jam pot. Maria playfully put off choosing.
Where was Vandeimen?
Had she imagined him?
Then she saw him, in company with Gravenham. Beside the marquess’s mousy solidity, Vandeimen seemed a wild spirit, despite his perfect, tidy appearance. His primrose hair shone in the candlelight, and his scar, doubtless honorably gained, suggested wickedness, especially with the lingering marks of dissipation.
“Mrs. Celestin,” Gravenham said, “you have enraptured another of us poor males. Here’s Vandeimen begging me for an introduction. Now mind,” he added, “I wouldn’t agree if you were a sweet young innocent, but I judge you well able to deal with rascals such as he.”
Maria appreciated Gravenham’s subtle warning. It showed that Vandeimen was in danger of losing his place in accepted circles.
“A rascal, my lord,” she said to Vandeimen, offering her hand. “How intriguing.”
She managed a cool manner, but was alarmed that she hadn’t thought of this essential detail. Of course he couldn’t just walk up to her. He had to find someone respectable to introduce him.
He bowed gracefully over her hand, perfectly judging the distance. A slight inclination would be cool. To actually touch his lips to her gloves would be scandalously bold. Just over halfway was within bounds, but hinted at interesting ardor.
She kept her light smile fixed and prayed not to shiver. This perfectly turned-out young man with deft social skills was not what she had expected.
“Then perhaps I might persuade you into the dance, Mrs. Celestin?” he said straightening but still holding her hand. “Some opportunity there to be rascally.”
“Really? I was not aware of that.”
“How dull your partners must have been.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come, let me brighten your life.”
He stole her from under the noses of her wasps, and she wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or wildly amused.
“My partners have not been particularly dull,” she said, as they joined a set.
“Good. Then you won’t be shocked.”
She wasn’t sure about that. What did he plan?
She did know about rascally dancing. If she let her mind slide back to her folly with Maurice, she could remember times when he’d used the dance to full advantage. After all, where else could a slightly disreputable man get close enough to a lady to tempt her to folly?
The music started and they began the steps. For the moment it was just a dance, giving her room to think.
She hadn’t anticipated him planning to kill himself.
She hadn’t anticipated him being dangerous.
She hadn’t anticipated the need for introduction.
She hadn’t anticipated his perfect management of the situation, or how he matched the steps of society as skillfully as he matched the steps of the dance.
She should have expected all of it. Heavens, social duties were part of an officer’s life. And yet, she had failed to anticipate his social skills.
