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Her mouth curled at the corners. “I’m relieved to know that I did not offend you, my lord.”
“Not at all,” he murmured, drifting closer. “Though I admit, I feared the worst for a moment. I thought perhaps I had said something wrong.”
A blush stole into her cheeks. “It was no fault of yours, my lord. Again, I apologize.” Moving to the tall windows that overlooked the gardens, she ignored him in favor of staring at sculpted bushes and sparkling fountains.
For such a beautiful woman to be so introverted seemed strange to him. Most of the belles mademoiselles he’d met were full of prattle—mostly about themselves. Not this one. His curiosity was sorely pricked. Perhaps it was her intent to bait him so, but he could not resist. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me who it was you fled and why you dislike them so.”
“I would not,” she replied softly. “At least not at the moment,” she added, a faint smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.
“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging as though her reticence did not matter in the least. “Your personal business is your own, after all.”
With a final flare of color, the sun kissed the tops of the trees and then cast them into shadow.
“Will you favor me with a dance?” he asked. “Your adversary cannot accost you while you are dancing, after all.”
With a smile, she acquiesced.
The candlelight shone on the silk of her gown as they progressed through the slow, stately steps of the loure, giving the fabric a strange rippling effect that put Julius in mind of clear, running water. When they rejoined, he looked up to see her smoky gaze, and a thirst that had nothing to do with water swept through him.
THOUGH INEXPERIENCED, VICTORIA knew enough to translate Cavendish’s admiring expression into what it really meant. But desire wasn’t enough on its own. Cavendish had to belong to her in order for her plan to work. Amelia would have to fight for him, woo him away from a woman he thought he loved. And inspiring that kind of devotion took time.
The music ended and they moved aside to make room for the next group.
“May I offer you some champagne?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, though champagne was something Papa had strictly forbidden.
He immediately stopped a passing servant and relieved him of two glasses, handing one to her.
Spotting one of Amelia’s friends, Victoria turned away, putting a pillar between herself and the enemy. Blast her sister and her network of spies! She needed privacy to implement her battle strategy. “I believe I should like to go somewhere a bit less crowded,” she told her escort, taking a naughty sip from her glass.
“My father has arranged a number of entertainments in the library. Would you enjoy a game of chess or cards?”
While his suggestion was tempting, she knew better. Several of Papa’s friends would likely be there. “A walk in the gardens might be more pleasant,” she suggested. And safer! Neither Amelia nor any of her prudish friends would be caught dead there. She’d have to make sure Cavendish didn’t misconstrue her intent, however. It wouldn’t do for him to think her less than a lady.
“I expect your escort will soon be looking for you,” he said as he led her out onto the terrace.
She smiled and responded to his underlying inquiry: “I am unaccompanied this evening.”
“Tsk,” he replied, though clearly pleased by her answer. “A woman so beautiful should be plagued by admirers. How is it you’ve escaped the attention of the young bucks in yon ballroom? Have you been hiding in the powder room?”
She inhaled in surprise and nearly choked on a mouthful of champagne. “You flatter me, my lord,” she croaked at last, clearing her throat.
“Not at all, my lady,” he said, his gaze warm.
Get back to business! she told herself sternly. “My sister is the one with all of the admirers. I am not half so lovely as her. Amelia is by far the acknowledged beauty in our family.”
Stopping short, he stared down at her with an intent expression. “Is she?”
Though it galled her, she knew these seeds had to be planted. He would deny her claim, of course, as any gentleman would. But once he saw Amelia, the words she spoke now would sprout and take root. “Oh, yes, my lord. Amelia is tall and golden and possesses the face and bearing of a queen. I am her exact opposite: small, dark, and irreverent.”
“Have you considered that perhaps not every man wants a tall, stuffy queen?”
His response caught her off guard. “I’ve yet to encounter that extraordinary gentleman,” she shot back before thinking better of it. Seeing his brows rise, she softened her tone at once. “What I mean to say is that most males are blind to all else when she is in the room.”
He moved closer and stared down at her with smiling eyes. “Do you know, I think you’ve been meeting the wrong sort of gentlemen,” he said softly.
Somewhere deep in her midsection, a butterfly began panicking. She took another swallow of champagne to make it stop. A big one. “Perhaps that is so. But one cannot blame anyone for worshiping her on sight. Amelia really is perfection incarnate.”
