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His smile widened. “Thanks be to God! I shall not have to search my soul for some shred of honor powerful enough to compel me to stop calling on you. So, is the diversion working?”
Encouraged that he had taken her confession so well, she found herself admitting, “For a while, it seemed to be. But of late, he only seems interested in introducing me to every eligible gentleman of his acquaintance.”
“Perhaps you need to rattle him again by spending more time with me. Let me call tomorrow and arrange another outing—with Mrs. Randall accompanying us this time.”
Perhaps they could be allies after all, just as she’d hoped. But honest allies now, both of them fully cognizant of the other’s goals. “So—you’re not angry with me?”
His expression gentled. “I could never be angry with you.”
Relief, surprising in its intensity, filled her as she met his gaze. Yes, he was temptation—he could not help but tempt, so powerful was the masculine appeal in every line of that lithe body, those feral eyes, the sensual lips.
But something beyond the physical drew her to him. An intuitive understanding seemed to connect them—an intellectual bond she’d never experienced while conversing with any of the proper gentlemen to whom Rob introduced her. As if she’d known him most of her life, as she had Rob, rather than barely more than a week.
Dare she let herself acknowledge that bond, despite the danger he posed?
Even as she debated the wisdom of such a step, he placed his hand over hers. “Shall we be friends, then?”
Any rational reply she might have made was lost as a tingling sensation, more arousing than brotherly, radiated from the pressure of his gloved fingers all the way to her shoulder. The familiar warning bells clanged in her head.
Despite their clamor, Allegra didn’t want to pull her hand free. As if she were iron to his magnet, this simple touching of fingertips infused her with the desire to move closer still.
Helpless to look away, she watched the blue of his eyes deepen as his expression changed to a focused intensity she recognized all too well. Before she could force herself to break the contact between them, Tavener suddenly released her fingers and sat back.
“Help me here,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m about to say something else inappropriate.”
A guilty thrill of feminine satisfaction rippled through her at this confirmation of how much her nearness affected him—followed, for some unaccountable reason, by a deep tenderness.
“You should say, my lord,” she advised, “‘I’m delighted that we are in agreement, and I shall look forward to calling on you tomorrow.’”
He nodded, humor replacing the desire in his eyes. “Not precisely what I should like to say—but no more on that, so you may be easy. You see, already your instruction is bearing fruit. But I sense gentlemen approaching, doubtless your guardian bearing more worthy candidates to your hand. Shall I leave now, or linger and give him the pleasure of dismissing me?”
She glanced behind them. Two men had indeed nearly reached them, but not escorted by Rob. Before she could ask Tavener to identify them, she sensed him stiffen.
The gentlemen bowed before her chaperone. “Mrs. Randall, will you allow Tavener to introduce us to your lovely ward?” the tall blond man asked.
Interrupted from her conversation, Mrs. Randall looked up with a start. One hand fluttered to her throat as she glanced from the smiling faces of the newcomers to Tavener’s forbidding one.
“Though it would be more proper to have Lord Lynton present you,” Mrs. Randall replied uncertainly, “I suppose Lord Tavener might do so. Might he not, Lady Maxwell?”
Thus appealed to, Mrs. Randall’s friend turned to inspect the blond gentleman. “You’re Wofford, Lady Martin’s grandson, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Indeed I am, ma’am,” the blond man said with a bow. “You know my grandmother?”
“She was one of my bosom bows the year I made my come-out. Mrs. Randall, you may be quite easy about allowing Lord Tavener to present Wofford and his friend.”
Tavener’s expression did not lighten, suggesting he thought Lady Maxwell’s quick acceptance of her friend’s grandson rather precipitous. But with the three older ladies looking on expectantly, he briefly introduced Allegra to Lord Wofford and his companion, Sir Harry Miles.
Presentations performed, the older women resumed their conversation. “Miss Antinori, would you stroll with me to obtain a glass of wine before the next set?” Wofford asked.
“I’ll keep you company and make sure Wofford minds his manners,” Sir Harry said with a wolfish grin Allegra couldn’t quite like.
Before she could decline, Tavener said, “You’ve been duly presented, gentlemen. Since the musicians will resume shortly, I suggest you go find another lady to entertain.”
“Now, Tavener, that’s hardly cordial!” Wofford protested. “You’ve monopolized Miss Antinori long enough. Why don’t you go off and let us keep her company until the musicians begin.”
Tavener balled one hand into a fist and casually rubbed the knuckles against his other palm. “’Tis never wise to outstay one’s welcome, is it?” he asked in the same deceptively soft but menacing voice he’d used in the park.
Eyes going wide, the two men exchanged uneasy glances. Wofford cleared his throat. “When you put it like that, I suppose we’ll just be on our way, eh, Sir Harry? Miss Antinori, a pleasure. Tavener.”
Both men bowed and hastily walked away.
Watching these proceedings with a mingling of curiosity and indignation, Allegra murmured to Tavener, “Protecting me from more men I should not know?”
“I doubt Lady Maxwell knows what the grandson of her old friend has been doing since he grew up. Wofford’s an infamous whoremon—womanizer, whereas Sir Harry, having depleted his late wife’s dowry supporting a series of mistresses, is looking to marry into wealth again. They may be good ton, but they are not good men.”
His obvious concern for her well-being stifled any further protest Allegra might have made about his high-handedness in dispatching the two men. “I suppose I must thank you for discouraging them, then.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “You are as protective of me as Lynton.”
He grinned. “My feelings for you are most unguardian-like, I assure you! But if scaring off the raff and scaff unworthy of your company earns me your gratitude, I am content…though I do wish Wofford had persisted. I’ve long wanted to plant my fist in the middle of that smug face.”
Allegra was about to ask him why when suddenly Lynton appeared before her, wine in hand and a young gentleman in tow. Casting an aggravated glance at Mrs. Randall, he stopped short in front of Tavener.
“Lynton.” Tavener bowed, an ironic gleam in his eyes.
“How fortunate you are just leaving,” Rob replied, nodding a dismissal to Tavener as he handed Allegra a wineglass. “I have here a gentleman most desirous of making Miss Antinori’s acquaintance.”
“Since I am leaving, I suppose I should go,” Tavener murmured. “Until later, Miss Antinori, Mrs. Randall.”
Her cheeks warming with embarrassment and annoyance at Rob’s rudeness, Allegra watched Tavener walk away. Suppressing with some difficulty the sharp rebuke she wanted to deliver to Rob, she willed a smile to her lips and turned to the gentleman Rob was pushing toward her.
As she curtseyed and murmured the usual polite responses to Sir Ralph Beckman’s stammered greeting, her forced civility turned to compassion. Sir Ralph appeared younger than the youngest of the Marriage Mart maidens on display here tonight and so embarrassed and inarticulate, she wondered that his mama let him out in polite company.
Blushing furiously, he opened and closed his mouth several times without producing more than a strangled bit of sound. Taking pity on him, Allegra initiated a one-sided conversation about the evening’s entertainment and the other guests present to which the tongue-tied young man needed to contribute only an occasional nod.
Allegra had about run through her stock of conventional trivialities, but the young man, his cheeks still a furious red as he bobbed his head at her like a marionette on a string, showed no signs of leaving. Perhaps uttering goodbye was beyond him, she thought, suppressing a smile as, to her relief, she saw Lady Harrington proceeding to the center of the room.
“It appears the next set is beginning,” Allegra said, inclining her head toward their hostess. “I must let you return to your seat. A pleasure to meet you, Sir Ralph.”
While she curtseyed, Sir Ralph simply stood, his cheeks growing ruddier still. After clearing his throat, he seized her hand and kissed it before hurrying away.
“Really, Rob, you might have contributed something to the conversation,” she murmured to her guardian as the young man scurried off. “Poor Sir Ralph! I don’t think he liked me very much.”
“Quite the contrary!” Rob replied. “He sought me out to tell me how much he admired you and begged me for an introduction. I will allow, not being much in the petticoat line, he…doesn’t have much conversation. And though he appears rather young—”
“Young!” Allegra interrupted with a giggle. “He scarce looks old enough to be out of Eton.”
