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“I heard you.” Her stomach clenched again. “You needn’t worry. I don’t think he’ll speak to me or any of us. I’ve heard he’s courting Beatrice again, so I doubt Granby has any interest in me.” There was a wistful sound to her voice which unsettled her.
“No, I mean he ishere. Now. Bearing on us from the rear. Goodness, he’s large.”
Romy spun about, flustered, looking for a way to disappear. Turning to her brother, she took a step, thinking to find sanctuary behind his back.
Tony shook his head, stopping her. “Stand your ground,” he mouthed.
“Lady Andromeda.”
The low rumble vibrated down her shoulders, stirring up her desire for him. The longing for him was always present, just beneath her skin, flaring up at the most unlikely times. She’d spent weeks trying to force it from her system.
No, not weeks. Much longer than that. Since their first heated encounter at Lady Masterson’s garden party. Romy had been drawn to Granby then, only she hadn’t known the extent of their attraction for each other. Or the effect it would have on her heart.
He found herlacking. Imperfect.
But in Granby’s defense, taking note of the dozens of eyes drifting in the direction of the small group of Barringtons, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
We should be called the Blind Barringtons.
Granby loomed over her, darkly handsome in his impeccably tailored formal wear. Her eyes immediately went to the length of his coat before glancing up at him. The ebony waves of his hair had been brushed back, but a handful of impudent locks were inching ever closer to his left eye.
“Your Grace.” Romy swept down into a perfect curtsy. At least she could do that much correctly. “My sister-in-law, the Duchess of Averell.”
“Your Grace.” Granby greeted Maggie politely, his eyes never leaving Romy’s face.
The ballroom seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting to see what would occur. Fans fluttered in the sudden quiet as heads turned in their direction. Romy had the oddest sensation of being a goldfish swimming about in a tiny bowl with a mob of children pressing against the glass.
“I believe you promised me this dance, Lady Andromeda.” He took her hand with a sharp, barely polite nod in the direction of her brother. Granby wouldn’t deign to ask permission, it seemed.
Romy glared right up into his beautiful, arrogant face. “I fear you are mistaken, Your Grace.”
Granby shot her a warning look before whisking her onto the dance floor, ignoring the twist of her hands as she sought to release her fingers from his grip.
“Don’t cause a scene, little shrub.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Are you smiling, Your Grace?” Her heart was struggling within the confines of her ribcage, her entire body tingling at his nearness. “Your mouth is making the most unusual contortions. Perhaps you are only having a fit of apoplexy. Pity. We’ll have to leave the dance floor.”
She tried to pull him in the other direction. A useless effort. It was like trying to move a mountain.
He swung her into his arms as the musicians began to play. “You look beautiful, Andromeda.” The shock of hair fell further over his eye, making him look younger and more approachable. Unbearably attractive.
Romy cocked her head, studying him. He seemed different tonight. The coating of ice was missing, for one thing, besides the smile flitting about his lips.
Granby’s mouth. The remembered feel of his lips and tongue against her flesh sent shivers across her skin. “How kind of you to say, Your Grace.”
“Did you make the dress?”
The question caught her off guard, as did the way her nipples puckered inside her gown as he breathed against her ear.
“Don’t trip, Andromeda. You’ll tear that lovely gown. I’d prefer to do that. Tear the gown from you, that is.”
Heat spiraled around her core, though she desperately tried to stop it. The attraction between them sparkled beneath Lady Ralston’s multiple chandeliers, intoxicating and sensual, drawing her closer to him. She was certain everyone at Lady Ralston’s ball noticed.
“What would you say, Your Grace, if I told you I stayed up until the wee hours, stitching away like a common seamstress? How horrified you’d be. Your senses might well not recover.”
His gaze on her hardened into obsidian. “Lower your voice.” He swung her about so forcefully, her slippers lifted off the floor. “Do you wish to draw more attention in our direction?”
“I’m used to being observed as a member of the tattered Barrington family. I’d no idea we were considered so outside the confines of society until you forced me into awareness. Now I see condemnation at every turn, no longer blind to it. You have my thanks.”
