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Chapter Six
Dash rested againstthe wall in a dark corner of the ballroom, ignoring the curious glances and conversation behind fans. Everyone tracked his movement, but no one dared to approach because of the scowl he shot when anyone tried. He was done with the inane conversation and the false fawning. His promise to Perdita kept him in the ballroom and nothing else. She would make him pay for forcing her to dance with him. The anticipation of engaging in battle thrummed through his body. His muscles and his heart quickened in expectation. Matching wits with Perdita was more stimulating than a naked woman waiting in his bed.
She glided into the ballroom, her glowing face wreathed in big smiles. She had rested during her withdrawal to her quarters. She had looked subdued and pale earlier. He wasn’t sure if it was his presence or if someone had offended her. She smiled and conversed, but it wasn’t the authentic Perdita. It didn’t matter how long they had been separated; he could still read her moods.
Miss Rothsby followed several steps behind Perdita, maintaining her role as a retiring and quiet companion. It was all an act. Earlier, the smaller woman had dragged Perdita with a firm hold through the crowd. The companion wasn’t impressed by his title or by him when he asked her to dance. Had Perdita told her of their past? She wasn’t taken in by his attempt at flattery to gain her trust. He had gotten very little information about Perdita from the woman, but what he gained had him spinning.
He hid his feelings when Miss Rothsby disclosed that Perdita was passionate about a Frenchman. Underneath his façade, he was a fermenting mix of jealousy and regret. He desired only the best for Perdita, but the reality of another man claiming her made it hard to be generous. He already hated the man who would receive Perdita’s affection.
No other woman had ever elicited tenderness, rage, and possessiveness. Being this close to her and knowing her future belonged to another was torture. He watched every one of her partners, trying to detect any attachment on Perdita’s part. None seemed to have captured her attention. He owed it to her and to Roddy to make sure the Frenchman was worthy before he removed himself from her life. He had channels to find out men’s secrets that Roddy would never be privy to.
He stepped out of the shadows and made his way to Perdita as the orchestra warmed its instruments for the next dance. Perdita smiled broadly at his approach. She curtsied formally, her eyes avoiding his. “My lord.”
He bowed before offering his arm to escort her to the center of the room.
“Beldon, I’d ask your indulgence in sitting out this next dance. I find that I’m weary and would prefer a sedate walk around the ballroom.”
Weary. What a crock. Perdita was never tired. She had the energy of a herd of highly strung Arabians. “Of course, my lady, whatever you wish.” What was she up to?
Sparks glinted in her wide eyes, her cheeks pink and her smile genuine. He was totally captivated by the minx and whatever nefarious plot that she had hatched for him. “Let me take you to the refreshment table where you can fortify yourself for the rest of the night.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” Her truly unique eyes picked up the blue tones in her dress. The ever-changing shades reflected her moods—a barometer of her feelings. Tonight, the greenish blue matched the sparkle and depths of her sapphire necklace. He hated the empty politeness between them. He wanted to be in private with her and demand to know who the damn Frenchman was.
“A slow promenade would be to my liking. If I sit, then anyone can engage me in conversation. I’d prefer to choose my company.” Her eyes flashed as her color heightened. Was she using him as a buffer from unwanted attention from a male admirer?
“If you’re tired and would prefer to sit, I’m sure I can find another gentleman to accompany me…”
As if he would allow her to get rid of him when this was his only chance to be near her. He lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. The gentle contact flooded him with memories. Her vanilla scent wafted across his nostrils. “I’m yours to command.”
She gazed at him through her lowered lashes. Distrust darkened her bright eyes as weariness spread across her face. “I need to pay my respects to Lady Amesbury and Lady Eldoret.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he placed his on top. She ignored the bolt of frisson between them though he heard her sudden intake of breath.
He directed her toward the two harridans who had been ruling society since he’d left university. They had acerbic tongues and didn’t spare anyone from their opinion. Perdita’s revenge was to subject him to these women who wouldn’t withhold their contempt despite his title. She wanted him to suffer their insults. And he would for her. He was entertained and touched that she had cared enough to seek revenge. Dealing with harpies was easy work away from his usual days.
“Lady Amesbury and Lady Eldoret.” Perdita curtsied before the two dowagers. “I hope that you’re enjoying the evening.”
“Your ball will be the talk of the town with the appearance of Beldon.” Lady Amesbury’s overabundance of plumes waved in regal air as she lifted her plump chin. The woman’s chest was covered in enough diamonds and rubies to float the cost of the royal navy for months.
Would Perdita reveal that he hadn’t been invited, making him open to more censure?
“I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to take your place in society. It is three years since you became Beldon.” Lady Eldoret clicked her false teeth in disapproval. The overbite gave her the look of a ferret with her tiny, beady eyes. “I’m glad that your father will never know how you’ve ignored his legacy.Hesaw to his duty.”
Perdita stiffened next to him.
“I’m sure he would find my lack of society appalling. He was a most social man.”
“That he was. But he saw to his responsibilities.” Lady Amesbury’s rheumy brown eyes the color of mud focused on him.
“I’m so disappointed your nephew was unable to attend tonight, my lady. I was looking forward to a discourse with him, knowing how he holds Napoleon in high regard.” Perdita smiled graciously at Lady Amesbury. “We are all holding our breath, aren’t we? Unsure whether we will go to war or if the consulate will honor his promise in the treaty. I know I’m not the only one would like to hear your nephew’s insight into Napoleon.”
“My nephew is one the most foolish men of the younger generation. He knows nothing of what he speaks.”
“Your nephew will be considered a traitor if he keeps spouting such poppycock. He’s as dull as your husband’s brother. We are fortunate to have men like Clifton. Unlike Amesbury or others”—Lady Eldoret lifted her lorgnette to look at Dash with great dramatic pause—“your brother reflects all that is good in our gentlemen, and why we will prevail over the French upstart.”
“Admirable.” Lady Amesbury’s face mottled and her voice was strangled, having not recovered from the conversation concerning her nephew.
“Lady Amesbury and Lady Eldoret, may I escort you to the refreshment table or find seating for you?” Dash looked between the two women. “The hour grows late.”
“We have had enough refreshments for one evening with two balls.” Lady Eldoret’s plume undulated as she shook her head.
