Page 26 of What a Widow Wants

“That would be very kind, my lord.”

He rushed away, leaving Fanny a moment to breathe and plan a strategy. She’d have to sit out the next dance, just to assure Fernley of her sincerity. Afterward, however, perhaps she could encourage Lord Wrotham to ask her to dance. He’d partnered little Mrs. Wickley in the first dance, smoothly guiding her step by step in a dance she obviously had never done. Yet he made it look as though they had danced a hundred times together. Clearly the best dancer in the room, he was also the most handsome, for her taste. Not that he held a candle to Matthew.

Drat. She’d vowed not to think of him tonight. Shaking her head to dislodge the image of Lathbury dancing with her, she gazed about in search of another partner.

“Here you are, Lady Stephen.” Fernley had returned with a glass of something that was definitely not wine. “I’m sorry it’s lemonade, but there was no wine to be had. Will you please excuse me? I am promised to Lady Georgina for the next dance.”

“Thank you so much, my lord. Enjoy your dance.” God save Georgie.

He scampered over to his prey and Fanny relaxed, sipping her drink, watching the others pair off for the dance. Charlotte had been snared by Alan Garrett, and didn’t look particularly pleased about it. The ton had been buzzing about them ever since that dance in June, the night she’d met—

Drat. She would not think of that man. Why the blazes had he not come to this party? If only she’d have gone to the ball and fete instead of the masquerade, she would not have met Matthew and stirred up old passions. Instead, she might have caught the eye of this charming rogue.

Not overly tall, but with nice broad shoulders, Alan Garrett looked the epitome of an elegant rake at first glance. Curly blond hair that gave him the air of a cherub, deep blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a full, sensual mouth that made a woman want to beg him for a kiss, among other things. Perhaps she could entice him or Lord Wrotham to partner her next. They were the only men here with whom she’d even entertain the possibility of a tryst. Lord Brack was too wholesome-looking, Fernley too odious, and Lord Sinclair, although very handsome indeed, had been very adamantly claimed by Jane.

The music ended and Fanny rose, determinedly trying to catch Lord Wrotham’s eye. That gentleman, however, had eyes for no one but Charlotte. He pursued her to the refreshment table, whither she’d fled from her partner at the dance’s end. Poor Charlotte. She’d protested an affinity for Mr. Garrett earlier; apparently the sentiment still held true. Perhaps Lord Wrotham would prove a more agreeable partner for her friend.

“Lady Stephen.”

The deep, sensual voice in her ear made her jump and turn toward Mr. Garrett, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She could have sworn she’d seen him heading toward Mrs. Wickley after Charlotte had left him on the floor.

“Mr. Garrett.” She nodded her head, giving him a knowing smile. With very little effort, she supposed, she could have this man in her bed in two or three hours’ time.

“Are you engaged for the next, my lady?”

“I am not, sir.”

“Then would you give me the privilege of partnering you?”

“I would be delighted.”

Garrett took her hand, smoothly twined it in his arm, and led her toward the dance floor. “In more than in a dance, perhaps?”

The rogue wasted no time, that was certain. Still his question thrilled her. It was wonderful to be desired, even more so to be pursued. “Whatever do you mean, my lord?”

“I believe you understand the question too well, my lady. Ah.” The first strains of music filled the air and Garrett glanced toward Elizabeth at the pianoforte. “Mrs. Easton has decided to assist me. She is being scandalous.”

“How so?”

“She is playing a waltz.” He seized Fanny’s hand and put it on his shoulder then placed his hand firmly on her waist. “You are familiar with the steps?”

“Of course.” A flicker of competitive spirit rose in Fanny. Let us see who seduces whom, my lord. In pretense of adjusting her grip on his jacket, she squeezed his trim waist. “I have waltzed more than once, and with more than just my husband.”

They began the steps, gazing intently at one another.

A gleam of desire darkened his eyes. “A well-educated woman is always a delight, Fanny.”

“As is a knowledgeable man, Alan.” On a first-name basis before the dance was scarce begun. A pleasurable thrill chased down her arms. “Shall we compare our educations this evening?”

“I can think of nothing I would like better.” He took advantage of the next steps to pull her sinfully close.

Her breasts grazed the front of his jacket, turning her nipples hard. Heat shot into her cheeks. Thank goodness they had already been rouged. Never let a man see just how much you desired him, though she didn’t think it would matter a jot with Mr. Garrett. “Then we must find some time alone to . . . converse.”

“Yes, we must,” he whispered when his lips came close to her ear again. “Shall I come to your room this evening?”

The heat of his breath in her ear made her shiver. This surrender would be hot and sweet. “I would like nothing better. The green room, first-floor corridor on the right, the door halfway down on the left.”

A jangle of keys from the pianoforte brought the dancers to a sudden halt. Cheeks reddening, Elizabeth gathered the scattered sheets of music. “My pardon, ladies and gentlemen.” She hurried from the instrument and Georgie sat down, immediately beginning a mazurka at breakneck pace.