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She was simply too at ease to be a laboring girl who’d somehow managed to procure a dress and sneak into Jackson’s home to try and mingle with the ton, outside of her social status.
Both scenarios were equally absurd to consider, and it was enough to drive him near to distraction with questions.
Had she been alone, he most certainly would have confronted her and demanded an explanation. He was reluctant to reveal that he’d been listening to their conversation, however, and even less inclined to introduce himself.
“Are you sure you do not see him?” The young woman—the one who was not possibly Hetty—queried her companion once more.
“Yes. I am sure.”
“But he was here, you are certain?”
“Yes, of course.”
The blond woman shifted, tugging her shawl higher on her shoulders. “Well, perhaps he has gone into one of the card rooms. If that is the case, there is no telling when he might emerge.”
“That is true.” Her companion’s voice was curiously reserved.
The blond straightened her shoulders. “I think I shall go and take Andrew up on his offer of a dance. It looks to be a cotillion, and I do enjoy those. Will you come?”
“No, I think not just now. I shall keep watch and see if the Marquess reappears.”
“As you like.” With one final adjustment of her clothing, the blond stepped away, moving toward another portion of the ballroom and out of sight, leaving her companion behind.
Daniel smiled grimly. It seemed he might be able to get the answers to his questions, after all.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Henrietta sighed as she watched Eva stroll toward the dance floor, looking for her brother. She did generally enjoy dancing, but she was hardly in the mood for it, especially not after what had just passed between her and Eva. She had not lied, but she knew quite well that she had been less than honest all the same.
She had hoped that her words would convince Eva to set her sights on a different man, or at least lead her to entertain some consideration that the Marquess was not the match she wanted. But Eva remained steadfast in her interest, and she was at a loss as to how she might dissuade her friend and turn her attention elsewhere.
For that matter, she was fast losing any ability to convince herself that her motives were anything other than selfish. After the near kiss of yesterday, she had finally been forced to admit to herself that she was not as detached as she would have liked to believe, and was, in fact, rather enamored of the man behind the cool, aloof mask Daniel seemed to wear.
Even more, she had seen some indications that Daniel was, perhaps, inclined to return her attentions. His words following their first session, his actions of the day prior...she did not think it was entirely a flight of fanciful whimsy to believe that he might be somewhat interested in her as well.
She was jolted entirely from her thoughts by the unexpected feeling of a hand closing firmly about her upper arm and pulling her backward. She stumbled, stunned by the unexpected and rather improper contact, and opened her mouth to demand an explanation, or to scream and thereby attract the attention of nearby individuals, when she caught a familiar scent.
Stone, expensive soap and shaving lotion. Though the scent of stone and the salty tang of sweat were not nearly almost strong this evening. It was nonetheless a scent she recognized.
Daniel.
But how had he managed to approach her and catch her unawares?
The answer to that question came swiftly, as he pulled her, gently but firmly, into a dark little alcove that turned out to be a small, hidden corridor. He dragged her into the shadows, far enough back that they might not be immediately seen from the ballroom, then spun to face her.
Daniel? It was quite tempting to speak his name, and she caught herself just in time, pulling up a facsimile of the affronted air that a young lady ought to have when accosted by a gentleman and dragged into dark corner. “Excuse me, sir! What right or reason have you to handle me in such a manner? I shall inform the host and have you thrown out if you do not explain yourself!”
“Oh, I very much doubt that. For who would want to cause such a scene?” A lazy gesture toward the ballroom was enough to make his point. “In any case, the Duke of Merriweather is a close friend of mine, so I have little concern on that score.” He shook his head. “And as to that, you’ve no need to fear for your virtue with me. A simple request, and you may return to your amusement.”
“Oh? And what might that request be, good sir?”
“I overheard you discussing the Marquess of Salisbury. I wonder if you might repeat what you were saying. You seem uncommonly well-informed as to the Marquess and his habits.”
Henrietta felt her heart pounding and her mouth go dry. Had he overheard her words to Eva? She was suddenly grateful for the mask and for the dimness of the corridor, both of which served to hide her flush of mortification.
She thought of how she might respond and made her own words a challenge to match his. “And how would a gentleman such as yourself know for definite whether I spoke of the Marquess with any degree of familiarity? From all I have heard, he is not a particularly social sort. That is all I sought to repeat.”
“Indeed. And yet you seem to know him so well. Perhaps you have had cause to be a visitor in his home. A young woman of your features might make a lovely model.”
