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Rem crossed his arms and lifted a russet-colored brow. “Oh? And how was that?”
He didn’t even miss a beat. “Like you had just discovered a rare gemstone.”
His companion rolled his eyes, but Seb also noticed that he didn’t deny the claim either. Suddenly, something caught his attention, his hazel eyes fixated on the ballroom entrance.
Sebastian turned around and realized what was so enthralling. He would be lying if he wasn’t as captivated by the younger of the two unmarried Bevelstroke sisters. He had long been a champion for women with red hair and Calliope had the most brilliant locks he had ever beheld. The problem was that she was generally inclined to avoid him.
He pulled the cuffs of his jacket down and decided that this was the night his luck was about to change. He would make sure of it.
But when he made a move forward, there was a restraining hand on his coat. “Don’t say that you’re leaving me here all alone?”
Seb’s mouth twisted wryly. “Are you scared, Osgood?”
“Yes, dammit!” Rem huffed in irritation. “Haven’t you heard of the phrase defendit numerus? There is safety in numbers, man! If you depart, I shall be surrounded by matchmaking mothers and their tiresome offspring.”
Sebastian patted his hand. “There, there. The bad people will go away soon enough. Just keep chanting, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’ and all will be well.”
He walked away and grinned when there was a decided curse that followed in his wake. Sebastian didn’t slow his progress, because he had bigger fish to fry.
But then perhaps that wasn’t quite the expression he should use.
Larger game afoot? Yes, that didn’t sound quite as uncomfortable, and when it came to Lady Calliope, he wanted to ensure her full satisfaction.
His grin widened even further as he spied his quarry and closed the distance between them.
Calliope had just descended the steps into the ballroom with her sister when a towering figure slid into her path. With a gallant bow, Lord Blakely rose to offer her a heated look she was more than familiar with. Those deep, brown eyes, combined with his light hair, made a striking combination. It made her hot and cold all at once. But she would rather die than acknowledge how much he affected her.
Adopting a careless expression, she feigned a yawn and was rewarded with the flash of mirth in his gaze. “Lord Blakely. What a… pleasant surprise to see you here.”
“I’m sure it is,” he returned with a husky timbre to his voice that made gooseflesh break out on the skin between her gloves and cap sleeves. She crossed her arms in an effort to hide the effect, but something told her she wasn’t successful. “Would you care to stand up with me for the next set?”
Drat. Irritation shot through Calliope. To ignore a man’s offer to dance this early in the evening would ensure that she couldn’t feign fatigue or a megrim if she wished to enjoy the rest of the night. But perhaps she wouldn’t have to contend with the viscount’s presence for long if she humored him just this once.
“Of course, my lord. I should be delighted.” She put her hand lightly on his arm and bestowed her most winning smile on him, the one that Araminta had always told her melted their father’s heart when she’d been younger. She was pleased to see that the effect hadn’t worn off over the years, as it took Lord Blakely a moment to gather himself before he enveloped her hand with his and led her forward.
“You don’t seem pleased that I accepted,” she noted, as they got into place for a quadrille.
“On the contrary,” he countered with a sly grin that was entirely too charming when it came to ensuring that her lungs were working properly. “I was merely taken aback. Most of the time you refuse me.”
She shrugged. “I decided it’s time we end this ridiculous charade. Don’t you agree?”
His expression turned wary. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“Oh, come now, Lord Blakely,” she chided gently, and then the dance forced them apart. It wasn’t until they came back together that she said in an aside to him, “We both know this little tete-a-tete will go no further between us, so why act as though there is a chance for more?”
He blinked. “I—”
“In fact,” she continued, as if he hadn’t even attempted to speak. “While I do appreciate your attention and kind regard, I fear that I am quite over the prospect of marriage, as it will not let me enjoy the adventures that I hope to have in the near future.”
He frowned. “And what is that?”
Again, they were forced apart, and although Calliope was quite content with the conversation, it appeared that the furrow between the viscount’s eyes was becoming more pronounced each time they returned together. “I have decided, that in my first step toward becoming an independent woman of means, I shall travel to Lyme Regis and search for ancient bon—fossils.”
She waited for him to be impressed, or encourage her interests, but he did the unthinkable and laughed. Quite heartily. To the point that a few curious glances were shot their way. This time it was Calliope who frowned. “Don’t say that you are under the antiquated notion that women can’t—”
He waved a hand. “Not at all. I believe that some women might pursue such a vocation and succeed rather admirably. I do, however, believe that you are not one of them.”
Calliope nearly stamped her foot. “And why not? I am more than capable of—”
