Amber grew motherly. “What of the men on your dance card?”
Inès put the back of her hand to her forehead. “I am indisposed. But never fear. I shall return. I am starving. What time is supper called?”
“Midnight.”
She tsked. “I will expire by then.”
“You will rally when you see the pastry.”
“Don’t tell me Giselle has made her specialty for the Chelmsfords?”
“No. But the French chef is just up from the prince regent’s in Brighton.”
“I will not miss it. For now, though…” She twiddled her fingers at her lovely red-haired friend and her devil-dark husband. “Don’t bother to fetch me. I will be a while.”
She wove through the crowd and stepped into the long, quiet hall. She passed an open door where four men played billiards and one picked an argument with another. Behind the next door, men and women sat at three tables, scowling at the cards they held in their hands. So then, things were not going well tonight for those who took chances. The third room, Inès did not bother to enter. A lady’s handkerchief had fallen to the carpet—and Inès surmised that this was the woman’s signal to her lover that this room was the one in which they would meet.
At the last room on the left, she thrust open the door and admired the moonlight silvering plush upholstered settees and chairs. The windows were wide and tall in here, reminiscent of her family chateau on the Loire…and she paused, a lump in her throat at the poignancy of her vision. She let out a sigh and whirled inside, then shut the door behind her with a small click.
“We wondered when you’d come.” The heavy rasp of a bass voice reached out to her and caressed her skin like the touch of napped velvet. “The news is not good.”
Hunh!Well, she would not know about that…but she’d like to. Secrets were her way of life. She was a creature of her past…and of her present, sad to say.
She took two steps forward, lured, entranced. At the sight of the man with the delectable voice who rounded the end of a tall bookcase, she halted.
Across the divide of sturdy furniture stood Lord Halsey. His eyes danced in the candlelight from the sconces and bored into hers.
From the shadows emerged another figure. Another man right behind Halsey.
“Pardonnez-moi, s’il vous plaît,”she murmured, “I did not know the room was occupied. I will go.”
“No need,mademoiselle,” offered Halsey’s brawny, wild-haired companion. “My apologies. We are finished, aren’t we?” He faced his friend. “I will find our two friends and tell them we have no news.”
“Tomorrow, I hope,” Halsey said. “Say, at ten? My house?”
“Excellent. Halsey, good night.” Durham, this was. She remembered his name, the reason being his thick, muscular figure and sharply angled face. But, of course, she could not recall his title. In this Society, they each had one. He was not a duke. But a lord. Of what rank escaped Inès’s memory. She really did have to read more in thatDebrett’sbook Gus kept insisting she memorize.
The man bowed to her and took his leave. “Excuse me, MademoiselleBechard.”
She responded with a polite nod.
The man was quickly gone.
“Allow me to give you the room, mademoiselle.” This from Halsey surprised her. He had been so forward the other night at the Carlisles’ that his mild manners here confused her.Was he interested in her or not? Had she totally spurned him? And why hate herself for it?
She put up a hand. “S’il vous plaît,” she said. Why did she lapse into her native language when faced with this dashing man? “I have disturbed you at your meeting. I shall retire.”
“But my friend is gone. You should stay. A notable collection here, so if you came to read,” he said, his brows up in mirth as he indicated the four walls filled with books and pamphlets, “there is much to entertain you.”
She would be pleasant.Why not?“I came to recuperate from my aching feet.”
He put two fingers to his temple. “This is the perfect place, then.”
She caught his gaze. She loved his long-lashed purple eyes, so beguiling in this dark room.Why is that?
As if by magic, he held her in thrall. So tall, so far above her, he filled her senses with his presence now as he had for all her recent days and nights. Square of jaw, broad of shoulder, infusing her with his sandalwood-and-citrus cologne, he looked at her so intently that she could have sworn he could see the color of her blood and the blackness of her heart. “You look like you need a good rest. So sit, mademoiselle. I hear your journey from France was quite long and harrowing. I am certain you must rest more to recover.”
She caught her breath. “Is that what gossip tells you?”
