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“My Aunt should be on the other side of the staircase by the corner.” Without knowing where Josie and Lily were, finding them in this crush would be a near-impossible task. Since they had found her before, they would likely return there, expecting her to as well.
“Perfect.” Rex smiled down at her again.
Making her way across the ballroom on his arm, Mary could not help but notice the difference from when she had arrived. People watched them with speculation, but no one dared approach, not even the most curious. They were waiting to see what he and Mary woulddorather than coming forward to hound them for answers.
Truthfully, it was much nicer.
“How long are you staying this evening?” she asked, looking up at him. Puzzled, he glanced down at her. “The other guests have been…” She searched for an appropriate description.
“Importuning?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, then.” Rex chuckled, putting his hand over hers on his arm. Warmth seemed to seep through the fabric between them. “If you would like me to stay, all you need to do is say the word.”
Feeling strangely vulnerable, Mary nodded, nonetheless. His mere presence was already acting as a shield against the questions if not the attention. Given the circumstances, she would take what she could get.
“Please.” The word came out as a soft, sincere plea.
“Then, I shall stay.”
Rex
Feeling oddly pleased and rather protective, Rex returned Mary to her aunt’s general vicinity. Viscountess Hood was sitting with the other chaperones, talking animatedly, but bestowed an approving glance on him before returning to her gossip. Rather than moving away, he took up a position by Mary’s side as several other gentlemen grouped around her, eyeing him with speculation. He returned their gazes with faint scorn. Lord Shrove was no competition, the young puppy far too young and green to interest a woman like Mary, but Sinclair and Wintershorne were more worrisome.
Both were looking for a wife, neither had his reputation nor were fortune hunters. While neither could match his title, as an earl and viscount respectively, he did not think Mary cared much about how lofty a man’s title was.
Staying by her side this evening and dancing attendance on her—not his original plan—suddenly held new appeal.
All three men eyed each other warily when the ravishing Miss Pennyworth appeared between Sinclair and Wintershorne before anyone could open a conversational gambit. The two men blinked in surprise when the beauty appeared between them.
“Hello there,” she said, smiling brightly before reaching behind herself to pull Miss Davis forward into their circle, the other woman only appearing a little reluctant. The men obligingly shuffled aside for the two women. “Such a crush here tonight! Lady Farthingale must be very pleased.”
“The ball is certainly a success,” Sinclair acknowledged, running a speculative eye over Miss Pennyworth, trying to assess whether she might be a better target for his intentions than Miss Wilson. Rex did not know whether to subtly encourage Sinclair to redirect his course to Miss Pennyworth or to be insulted on Mary’s behalf that the man was so easily distracted.
The social patter flowed, most of which Rex had no interest in. He shifted against Mary. Their backs were to the wall with no one behind them, and without looking at her, he ran his knuckle down the center of her spine, enjoying her short, sharp intake of breath. He might not be able to pull her away from the watchful eyes of thetonwithout risking her reputation, but he could still torment her to some degree. His ability to do so was also one sound advantage he had over the other gentlemen, and he was determined to make the most of it.
While his illicit touch, over her gown no less, was the most innocent contact he had ever used to seduce a woman, Rex found the challenge far more erotic and provocative than any before. Part was the thrill, the stakes so much higher if anyone noticed, but another part was Miss Mary Wilson herself. She was a challenge and a mystery rolled into one.
Miss Pennyworth and Miss Davis were fairly easy to categorize from listening to their conversation—the former with her fervor for all things horses and the latter with her zeal for all things bookish—but not Mary. Like him, she seemed to have a general knowledge of everything but no excessive interest in any one thing as though she was still searching for her passion.
They had that in common as well.
Rex ran his knuckle down her spine again, right down to the small of her back, and she shivered.
Bringing her fan up as though she was hot, she used it to cover her mouth and whisper to him.
“Would you stop that?” she hissed. Across from her, Miss Davis eyed them questioningly, and Mary smiled reassuringly at her friend. She was a good actress, Rex noted, although unable to control her blushes.
Not having a fan to cover his mouth, Rex was unable to answer her verbally. He ran the pad of his finger down her spine instead, tracing the same path his knuckle had taken.
She shifted next to him, and a moment later, Rex jumped at the sharp pinch to his buttocks. The little minx! Her skirts had hidden her movement, but not his. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Ah, muscle cramp,” he lied, already thinking about his retribution.
He meant to marry the wench. Would it really matter if he dragged her off to a suitably private spot and spanked her?
Unfortunately, he was too late.
