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…
Where the bloody hell are they? Surely she cannot have fallen ill since taking her morning constitutional? Perhaps something has happened. Perhaps Harrow is late… Lucas’s teeth were practically itching with irritation. They ought to have put in an appearance by now.
It was all he could do to stop himself sneaking out and going up to the terrace to try to see what the devil might be causing their delay. Prying himself away from his guests, he edged toward the rear of the ballroom and its bank of garden-facing French doors. He wouldn’t be able to see over the wall from down here, but he could at least catch a glimpse of her second floor windows. Several were lit from within, but not the ones belonging to Diana’s bedchamber. Nor were the music teacher’s windows aglow.
Perhaps she decided not to attend? His heart sank. Then he felt a flash of anger—immediately followed by trepidation. If she’d told Harrow what he was on about…
Light and movement amid the darkness caught his eye. Moving toward him, a lamp bobbed along the garden path. Moments later, the servant bearing it was revealed, immediately followed by Diana and Harrow.
Why are they coming through the back rather than around front? Had something happened to Harrow’s carriage on the way to pick her up? But even so, Diana had her own. Perplexed, he opened the doors to let them in.
As soon as Lucas saw Diana’s dazzling smile, he forgot his annoyance and puzzlement. She looked a vision. Bowing over her outstretched fingers, he bid her welcome before shaking Harrow’s hand in greeting.
Harrow’s earnest face was full of regret as he covered their joined hands with his other and apologized profusely for their lateness. “The fault is entirely mine—an unexpected visitor prevented my departure at the appointed time, and as we were already so late, I thought to avoid any further delay by taking our little garden shortcut,” he said with a conspiratorial wink, releasing his hand with a final pat. “Don’t worry about formally announcing us. We’ll just pretend we’ve been here all along, and no one will be the wiser.”
Except they would. Because several of his other guests had witnessed their entrance. Granted, none were near enough to have heard the exchange, but they had eyes.
Lucas’s stomach did a somersault as the implications sank in. Whether intentional or not, the result of their unconventional arrival was fait accompli. Everyone would soon know he and his neighbor were on very friendly terms, such that they had private access to each other’s grounds and felt familiar enough to enter unannounced through the back door. The warmth of Harrow’s greeting would not have been missed, either.
Indeed, heads were already turning toward them as whispers doubtless raced from mouth to ear, spreading like ripples across a still pond.
There is no going back now. Squaring his shoulders, he mentally prepared to brazen it out. Forcing muscles twitchy with nerves, he smiled broadly. “Now you’ve finally arrived, we can truly begin the festivities. Come, let me introduce you to some of my other friends. You already know Westing, of course…”
He’d worry about the consequences of this later. For now, he could only manage the cards dealt him and play as best able. Making the rounds and seeing familiar, friendly faces helped dismiss the panic threatening to set in. As did remembering all the bets placed at White’s.
People already thought the worst and were merely awaiting confirmation. He hadn’t planned on giving it to them tonight, but that’s the way the dice sometimes rolled. His mind raced, searching for a way to turn this around to his benefit.
It had already occurred to him that he couldn’t discontinue his flirtation with Harrow tonight without revealing his deceit. The only way around it was to flirt only when both Diana and Harrow were present, making sure to always end on her, thereby allowing others to assume his attentions were directed toward her alone.
By the time the dancing began, confused and doubtful expressions had given way to knowing looks and even grudging nods of approval from some of the men. Through it all, he maintained a calm exterior, as if he’d expected nothing less.
The deal was sealed when Harrow, who took Diana’s first and second dances, walked her over to Lucas and presented her to him for the third. The significance of that number was not lost on Lucas. Nor was it lost on the keenest of their spectators. Brows rose, and whispers followed the gesture.
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as they took their places for the waltz. “You look like an angel in that gown,” he said on impulse, internally kicking himself for sounding so trite.
When she laughed, her face transitioned from beauty to divinity. “Flatterer,” she teased, arching a caramel brow. “Most here would sooner name me the devil.”
“Was not the devil once heaven’s most beautiful angel before the fall?”
“Have you no shame?”
“None. I lost it in a foolish bet with a clever angel.”
Mischief twinkled in her sea-green eyes. “Beware, lest the esteemed matrons overhear you and caution you against corruption at my hands.”
“I should consider myse
lf the luckiest of men if you deigned to corrupt me.” The music began, and he swept her away across the ballroom floor, happy to admire her graceful movements from up close. “In fact, I hereby issue a standing invitation to attempt it.”
A combination of desire and wariness flickered across her face for an instant before she smoothed it over with a low, sultry chuckle. “Were I to accept, you would be forever ruined.”
“Have I not said before that I care nothing for other people’s opinions?”
“Indeed.” Her lashes lowered, and her gaze became molten. “But I was speaking of a different sort of ruination.”
Her words sent a dizzying bolt of pure desire lancing down through his vitals and straight into his suddenly aching crotch. The swiftness with which he grew hard was almost painful. It forced him to reevaluate his plan. He’d thought to have Diana once and get her out of his blood, but the strength of his want for her was such that he wondered if a solid month between her legs could quench it.
Every look that passed between them stoked the fire. Every touch made it burn hotter. Everything in him clamored to claim Diana, to make her his. The impulse to kiss her and damn the consequences was almost overwhelming. He bit back a nervous laugh on realizing his muscles were trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
