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The Viscount laughed, and the sound of it sent chills down her spine in spite of the cheerful music they were dancing to. “I am quite certain I was not the only one to have noticed your disappearance. With a little prodding, it will not take much for the story to catch fire, and we would not want that, would we?”
Emily wished she could glare hatefully at him but knew that if she regarded him with less affection than what the Ton expected of a recently engaged couple, it could serve as the perfect precursor to what Lord Caney had been threatening to do.
“Come now, my dear,” the Viscount grinned at her. “Surely, I can give you the same measure of happiness as that stuffy Duke of yours.”
She tilted her head up at him and said in a scathing voice, cloaked in a brilliant smile, “Nothing would make me happier than to get out of this predicament with you!”
Lord Caney threw his head back and laughed. To the rest of the Ton, it would seem that both Lady Emily and her Viscount held a great affection for each other, but nothing could be farther from the truth.
“Oh, it would have been so simple, wouldn’t you agree?” he sneered. “If only your Duke had agreed to marry you and save you from the evil Viscount. Unfortunately, he does not seem to be as taken with you as he would have you believe.”
The words stabbed at Emily’s heart, and she tried her utmost to keep herself from wincing, to put just one foot in front of the other and continue in this dangerous dance with Lord Caney.
He truly was the most terrible man she had ever met. How could she ever have mistaken him for a gentleman? She shook her head at her naivete and bemoaned that if she had half the sense God gave to a peahen, she should have run off in the opposite direction when she saw him!
The music ended, and they both bowed to each other. To Emily, it seemed as if they were gladiators in the Ancient Roman Empire, getting ready to commence their duel.
“I would advise you not to do anything stupid, dear Emily,” he warned her as he escorted her back to Lady Horatia. “I can be a very patient man, but I do have my limits.”
“What? Are you going to cry off and break the engagement?” As she told him earlier, she would like nothing more than to be escape his grasp.
“Yes, but it would not be without consequences for you and for your family,” he added with a sinister glint in his eyes. They stopped just as they were within hearing range of the Marchioness of Rutbridge, and the Viscount gave her a debonair bow, kissing the back of her hand. “Until the next time, my sweet. I shall be counting the days until you are mine.”
Emily wisely chose to hold in the words she had been longing to hurl at him. If Lady Horatia ever heard her speaking ill of the Viscount, she would no doubt lecture Emily severely, and Emily simply did not have the fortitude to stand up to it any longer.
With a sigh, she looked across the ballroom, and her heart hammered in her chest when her gaze locked with eyes the deep blue of the ocean.
Tonight, the Duke of Gilleton was dressed immaculately in a deep blue coat that seemed to bring out the depths of his eyes, his snowy white cravat contrasting against the deeper color. His handsome features were schooled into a bland expression as another young lady clung to his arm like an adoring limpet.
The Viscount’s words resonated painfully in her head once more, and Emily sadly turned away from the sight, her heart breaking so painfully in her chest.
Fortunately, she would be the only one to know it.
* * *
Daniel frowned as Emily coldly turned away from him, her normally warm and expressive eyes unreadable. Tonight, she was wearing a soft, yellow gown that made her seem like a lush, vibrant flower in a sea of uninspiringgrass.
“Your Grace?” The young lady at his side—Lady Georgiana or Eloisa, he could no longer be bothered to remember—gazed coquettishly at him and fluttered her lashes. He recalled, with a painful stab in his heart, how he had urged Emily to try looking at him in the same way. The sultry smile that curled her lips, the look in her eyes as she glanced up at him before she turned her eyes away—it was like he took a shot of pure lust and drowned in it.
Only Emily could do it and not look foolish, he lamented in his heart.
However, he had made his decision, but glancing briefly at the young woman hanging on his arm, he seemed to be sticking to it rather poorly as she was fast becoming incensed by his inattention.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked her, his tone a little brusque for a supposed gentleman.
She looked surprised for a moment before her eyes lit up in that unmistakable gleam. “Certainly, Your Grace!”
Daniel tilted his head at her and smiled. “Then, I suggest you find a more suitable partner because I do not indulge in such inane pastimes.”
The young lady—Georgiana or Eloisa—looked visibly affronted. She muttered an incoherent excuse and extricated herself from his arm, dashing off to her friends or her mama or whoever she could tell just how awful the Duke of Gilleton had been to her.
Daniel found that he did not care just one bit.
“You are usually nicer to the ladies, Gilleton,” a wry, mocking voice remarked. “I believe your intention was to dissuade her from clinging to your arm for the entire night not send her off in tears.”
Daniel turned around to find the Earl of Hardy smiling coldly at him. He had no desire to entertain Emily’s brother tonight. In fact, he had no desire to talk toanyoneat all.
Why he even bothered to come to the Cavendish ball was something that was beyond him.
