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They will certainly never be possible with him. Her stomach tightened with unease that such a thought had even occurred to her. Shaking herself to dispel her disquiet proved ineffective. Twice he’d referred to her former life, saying he’d known her. Perhaps that was what bothered her so. She frequently encountered those who’d known her before her downfall, but there were very few who didn’t now look upon her with open contempt.
In fact, there were only a handful: Harrow, his wife, René, and now Blackthorn.
His curiosity was to be expected. Everyone wanted to know what she and Harrow got up to. Along with that, for the men at least, came lust. Blackthorn had certainly looked at her with an appreciative eye, but he’d also looked at her as though she was a person rather than an object—a rare occurrence. He’d seemed genuinely shocked that she might prefer the life she had now over what had been possible before her ruination. Morality was certainly the last thing she’d expected from a man of his reputation.
Reputation. It all came down to that one word. The word that had all but destroyed her. How much truth is there in his reputation, I wonder? Before she could give it more thought, her escort came to a halt before an empty chair. She looked around, surprised at how far away they were from the main gathering. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t been paying attention.
“I can see my friend has managed to vex you,” said Westing with a wry grin.
“Not at all.” She sat. “I’m merely fatigued from the long day.”
But his eyes twinkled knowingly. “Blackthorn has that effect on many people. He’s not a bad sort, really. He simply knows not when to give up.”
That much she’d already gathered. “Then he and I are not unalike, I’m afraid. I can be quite stubborn—or so I’ve been told. It’s a quality that has often landed me in trouble.” She threw him a saucy grin. “As you no doubt know.”
Laughing, he nodded. His gaze then slid away. “I probably ought not to tell you this, but he’s determined to puzzle you out. You, dear lady, are a mystery. And once Blackthorn gets it into his mind to solve a mystery, there is no stopping him until he has his answer.”
Dread tightened her gut. “Oh? I was unaware I was so enigmatic. Pray tell me what it is he wishes to know?” She’d managed to ask it with just the right amount of insouciance.
“Everything,” he answered with a snort. “He told me he met you once during your debut, claimed you were a shy little thing.”
“I was practically still a child,” she said, smiling. “Full of naive ideas. I dare anyone to accuse me of naïveté now.” The seductive laugh she’d practiced for countless hours now came with hardly any effort at all. “After our dance—during which the man practically interrogated me, I might add—I should think he has all the answers he could possibly require.”
“Hardly,” said Westing, grimacing.
Wonderful. Still, she maintained a cheerfully indifferent facade. “Well, I’m afraid he’ll have to settle for what information he’s already gleaned.” Fortune seemed to still be on her side, for she spied Harrow looking for her near the ballroom floor. “My lord, your company has been a true pleasure, but I fear my time with you has come to an end.” She rose.
Turning around, he glanced in the direction of her gaze. “I see.” He turned and bowed, disappointment evident in his eyes. “My lady, you are as lovely a person as any I’ve ever met, and I believe Lord Harrow the luckiest man alive. I do hope that one day you’ll deign to dance with me.”
“I shall be happy to do so at the next event where we are both in attendance,” she promised, smiling.
Westing greeted Harrow and then politely took his leave.
“Why were you not dancing?” asked Harrow as soon as he’d gone.
Grimacing, she told him of her encounter with Blackthorn as well as what Westing had said.
“I should not be too concerned,” said Harrow. “He’ll lose interest soon enough.”
Doubts plagued her, but she held her tongue. “How did your business go?”
“Precisely as anticipated. Where did you hear of Bolingbroke’s plans?” he suddenly asked, changing the subject. “And why did you not mention them before?”
“A new associate of my uncle’s—one possessing very little discretion—spoke out of turn in my presence,” she replied. “I did not tell you about it because I did not wish you to become involved. I had planned to send an anonymous letter, but…”
“I see. Liverpool no doubt thought me far more informed than I am,” he replied, an uncharacteristic frown marring his face. “The man has on numerous occasions tried to recruit me. Now, thanks to you, I’m sure he must think me ready to join the damned Tories.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied with genuine contrition. “I did not know.”
“No matter.” He sighed. “Now, I want to know exactly how you came into such information.”
“Do you remember the Graftons’ dinner party a fortnight past?”
“How can I forget? You nearly caused the man’s wife to sue for divorce.”
“Yes, well a few minutes after you stepped out for a pipe, Grafton told another guest of my uncle’s plan to upset the election.”
“Surely you jest. Grafton would not speak of such matters in front of—”
