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“Ah, now there’s the filly I’ve been waiting for,” Leasham said, eyeing the new crop of ladies entering, their heads craned to get a better glimpse of the vines hanging from the chandeliers.
Scarcely interested, Ramsey gave the group a passing glance and then looked at his pocket watch. He wondered why he had come and how long before he could leave. At least this was something to do besides sit at home and wait for Madame Fouchet to send for him. There had been no outcry about the theft of the necklace. Ramsey had been listening for the slightest stir. Either the Duchess of Beaumont hadn’t realized it was missing or she didn’t want it known the piece had been stolen.
In the meantime, it sat in Ramsey’s safe. He wanted it gone, but selling it, even to the most discreet buyer, wouldn’t solve his problem. He needed Madame Fouchet.
“She’s not wearing black tonight,” Leasham was saying. “Perhaps she’s finally out of mourning. The blue suits her.”
Still distracted, Ramsey looked up and followed Leasham’s gaze. At first he couldn’t place the woman, who was indeed drawing stares from most of the men in the room. And then the haze seemed to clear and he felt his jaw drop.
Gabrielle.
He couldn’t remember her looking so ravishing. She’d always been a beauty with that lush dark hair and those blue eyes. But tonight in the stunning blue gown she looked regal. It helped that she was tall—some might have called her statuesque. Her height and the color of the gown made her easy to spot among the other ladies.
“Lady McCullough,” Ramsey said finally.
“Oh yes.” Leasham tossed back his champagne. “Let’s go say hello.”
Ramsey shook his head. “No.” Speaking with her was not wise, not after what had occurred at the Beaumonts’ ball.
“Very good, old fellow.” Leasham slapped Ramsey on the back. “That means I have her all to myself.” And he set off across the ballroom.
Ramsey watched his friend make his way through the crush toward Gabrielle and told himself it was for the best. He didn’t think Leasham would interest her—and if Leasham did capture her interest, what was it to Ramsey? She wasn’t his. They’d shared two…no, three kisses, and the encounters had haunted him. Tonight was his chance to finally rid her from his blood.
He should leave. Walk away and put her behind him.
But he couldn’t make himself move. He couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from Leasham, who was even now bowing to Gabrielle, while she curtsied and smiled prettily.
Ramsey narrowed his gaze. Was that a real smile or a polite smile? He thought it was polite, but Leasham could be quite charming. He might be a dissolute rake, but he wouldn’t be such if he didn’t have blunt and good looks. Women found him dangerous and irresistible…for a time. Until they realized the only thing dangerous about him was that he’d fall asleep at dinner from indulging too heavily in drink.
As Ramsey watched, Leasham pointed across the room, and Gabrielle’s gaze followed. With a jolt, Ramsey realized Leasham pointed at him. With another shock, he realized the two were strolling toward him. For a moment, Ramsey considered turning on his heel and walking the other way. But that would be the sane, rational thing to do.
Instead, he stood rooted in place and downed the rest of his champagne. “Lady McCullough,” he said with a bow when she and Leasham neared.
She smiled—definitely a polite smile—and curtsied. Now that she was close, he saw her gown was embroidered with silver thread in some type of curlicue design. She had silver ribbon threaded through her dark hair, and it glinted in the lights from the chandeliers. The current style was to wear the hair somewhat frizzy, but Gabrielle’s hair was sleek with a few seemingly haphazard curls falling over one shoulder and sprinkled with silver.
“Lord Sedgwick, how good to see you again.”
He arched his brows. “Really?”
Her mouth tightened, and she turned to Leasham, who had yet to take his eyes from her breasts. Ramsey could hardly fault the man. The gown was low cut, and without any lace at her throat, her breasts were quite exposed. Not that he minded the view, but Ramsey did rather have the urge to flatten Leasham at the moment.
“Lord Leasham, would you mind fetching me a glass of champagne? My throat is terribly dry.”
Leasham looked up from her breasts. “What was that?”
“Champagne,” she said patiently. “Would you fetch me a glass?”
Leasham frowned, uncomprehending. Ramsey supposed he wasn’t often dismissed from a beautiful woman’s presence.
“Thank you, Lord Leasham.” And Gabrielle turned away from him and focused on Ramsey.
Still in a daze, Leasham meandered away. Ramsey watched him go, wishing he hadn’t finished his glass of champagne.
Gabrielle tucked her arm through his and led him toward one of the palm trees in the corner. “So, Lord Sedgwick, we need have no pretenses, I think. How is my necklace?”
“Yournecklace?”
“Yes.” She pretended to admire the trunk of the palm. “The one you stole from me.”
