Page 21 of Only Scandal Will Do

Jack motioned her to return to him and handed her glass to a passing servant. As she neared the group, the young man in green glanced up and stopped, seemed arrested at the sight of her. His eyes widened. Had they already met? His face seemed familiar. Something about the chin, perhaps?

She was almost upon the group when the young man finished turning toward her. He stared at her with eyes so dark brown they were almost black. Three thin, purplish scars marred his left cheek.

The floor of the ballroom buckled beneath Katarina’s feet and Lord Braeton’s hand shot

out to steady her. The music stopped and her tortured breathing sounded harsh in her ears. She supposed her face paled, for her hands grew numb with cold and she swallowed convulsively several times, trying with all her hard-earned discipline not to vomit before the assembly. She clasped her hands to stop them from shaking.

Jack looked inquisitively at her but said only, “Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, I wish to make known to you the Marquess of Dalbury.”

CHAPTER 8

“Lady Katarina,” the marquess said, taking her limp, cold hand. “I have been looking forward to this moment ever since I heard you were in London.”

That voice sent shivers down her spine. She remembered well the arrogance in it when he’d declared himself her master. Soft and silky now, his mouth poised over her hand, and the words sent searing heat that penetrated her long kidskin gloves. Only sheer determination kept her from snatching it out of his grasp, and fear at what might be said if she acted in any way as though she had met this man before. No one must know.

She made herself look at his face, into the dark brown eyes that gleamed with… apprehension? Amusement? Katarina twitched her mouth into what hopefully passed for a smile and said, “I am delighted to make your acquaintance as well, Lord Dalbury. Although I must confess that until just now I had not heard your name.” Although pleased to hear how strong her voice sounded, she feared she might choke on the lies she spouted. Kat slipped her hand from his and a measure of calm returned.

Jack was deep in his conversation with Lord Braeton, completely unconcerned about her. She tried to refrain from looking at the marquess, but he demanded her attention by addressing her again.

“I almost missed the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Lady Katarina. I left the ball just before midnight, but one of my carriage horses came up lame and I returned to ask Braeton for the loan of a replacement. Lady Luck surely smiled on me tonight.” His wide smile seemed genuine, his voice tinged with a hint of relief.

She sighed. Her last night in England and Lady Luck had to favor this fellow.

He continued on, disregarding her silence. “I understand from Lord Braeton that you and your brother only arrived from the colonies three months ago.”

She found it hard to keep her tone civil. “Yes, my lord. We came to England in early February.” As she had told him before! It helped not to look at his eyes. Instead she fastened her gaze on his cheek. He would likely carry those scars the rest of his life. She hoped it hurt his vanity every time he looked in the mirror.

He apparently saw where her gaze lay, for he ran his finger down the center mark. “Ah, I

see you are curious about my wounds.” He shifted his weight slightly, drawing her a little away from the others.

“Is it a war wound, my lord?” she asked, feeling the return of her confidence.

“It is a badge of honor I wear, given to me by a worthy opponent who I underestimated in many ways. I now regret the chance encounter, Lady Katarina.” He lowered his voice. “She did not deserve the treatment she had at my hands. I make my most sincere apology for doubting her words to me.”

Kat stiffened at this offering. How could he stand there and try to apologize so cavalierly in a crowded ballroom? “Whoever she is, then, Lord Dalbury,” she said sweetly, “I hope your opponent is more forgiving than I would be.” She gestured toward his face. “An offense that merited such a wound could never be forgiven by a few words uttered at a social gathering.”

“Could it be forgiven at another time and place?” His hope-filled words said he all but leaped on the possibility. “With a proper act of contrition, of course?”

“That is hardly likely, Lord Dalbury. But then,” Kat looked him in the eyes coldly, “I do not know the offense of which you speak. How could I, having just met you?”

Her emphasis must have made him realize his surroundings, for he glanced around as though he expected them to be overheard. No one was close enough to mark their conversation, but before he could continue, she moved to return to her brother. The marquess shot a hand out and gripped her elbow.

At the pressure of his fingers she whipped around, free hand raised to strike him.

Lightning fast, he caught and lowered it before anyone could witness her reaction. “Please, Lady

Katarina. Truly, I mean you no harm.”

The musicians chose that moment to tune up for the next set. “Will you dance the next with me?”

Despite his pleading look, she chuckled and shook her head. “Lord Dalbury, there is nothing you could say that would compel me to dance with you.” She pulled her hand free just as Jack presented himself to her.

“Well, Kat. Will you do me the honor of this dance?”

“I am sorry, Lord Manning,” Dalbury interrupted, before she could even open her mouth. “But I am afraid I have just engaged your charming sister as my partner for this set.” Dalbury smiled winningly at Jack.

She narrowed her eyes at the odious man. “Yes, Lord Dalbury just asked me to partner him, Jack, but--”