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A pair of golden-lion eyes swam in her thoughts, and she stiffened. The Marquess of Trent most certainly did not fit her ideal thoughts of a suitor!
“No one asked me to dance last evening,” Pippa murmured. “In truth, I can only assess a gentleman as a potential suitor when we converse.”
Harriet’s features softened. “I am sorry you were not asked to dance.”
Waving away her friend’s commiseration and disregarding the pinch inside her heart, Pippa said, “There are far more enticing debutantes here, and I have been missing for almost two seasons. I am decidedly unpopular. And who says I must wait for a gentleman to ask me to dance?”
Harriet’s eyes lit with glee. “A capital idea, Pippa! We should wager on it.”
“Absolutely not,” she said with a laugh. “Theo would—”
“I dare you,” Harriet breathed, visibly thrumming with excitement.
“Harriet,” Pippa hissed, grabbing her hand. “A dare is not something we take lightly as members of 48 Berkeley Square. You know this!”
It was almost sacrosanct to their members that once a dare was handed down by another member sister and spoke to that place inside their hearts, it should be fulfilled. Through dares and wagers, each lady at the club learned about their determined and unflinching characters. At the club, they learned that whenever a ladywantedsomething that once appeared beyond her reach, one must dare to go beyond the bounds of propriety and the roles they were taught to abide by from high society to pluck that star from the sky.
What men have done…women can do.
Those words from their fearless leader echoed in the space between them. “Do not dare me,” Pippa hissed.
“I dare you,” Harriet murmured, smiling wickedly, “to ask a gentleman to dance. And not justanygentleman…one who is the opposite of those characteristics on your list! Someone a bit naughty…perhaps…or dangerous.”
“You want me to ask a rake to dance?” Pippa choked out, glaring at her friend.
“No,” Harriet said with an impish smile, “Just aninterestinggentleman.”
“Good-natured, kind gentlemen of similar height are perfectly interesting,” Pippa groused, unwilling to admit that she was temptingly stirred.
Her friend jutted her chin, her eyes gleaming. “Idareyou.”
Then she melted away with a laugh, no doubt to find a few other members and tell them of the dare. Pippa grinned, almost determined to ignore her friend and that dare. A curious sensation touched her shoulders, and as she snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman, she discreetly looked about. When Pippa found the source of that stare, it was as if the marquess looked right past her. Yet she felt his gaze as if it kissed over her skin, lingering in unseen places. The longing for something wild and exciting almost pitched her to the floor, and she sensed it might be found if she approached him.
Do not be silly and outrageous, she silently chided herself.
Pippa looked away, trying to stop her errant longing. There was a plan…and a list to adhere to. The marquess did not fit into the expectations she had, simply from his reputation alone. Still, that reminder did not stop Pippa from moving through the crowd, forcefully slowing her steps as she neared the marquess. Her heart felt like a drum echoing inside her body. It would not do at all to approach a gentleman to whom she had not yet been publicly introduced. Pippa assured herself she only wanted to thank him again for his kindness and for the cream. Nothing more.Oh, please let it be nothing more.
The quivery feeling low in her belly mocked her silent plea. To her shock, he did not wait for her to approach him. He sauntered close, and thankfully Felicity’s husband, who seemed to be on friendly terms with the marquess, performed introductions.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Trent,” she said, dipping into an elegant curtsy.
“Lady Philippa, a pleasure indeed.”
A glance from the marquess had Lord Wyndham lifting a brow before excusing himself, an odd smile on his mouth. Though they were surrounded by dozens of people, she felt as if they were alone.
Pippa was overwhelmingly conscious ofeverythingabout the marquess. His height, the breadth of his shoulders, those golden brown eyes, the harsh elegance of his cheekbones and the firm sensuality of his lips. This evening he was dressed in black trousers and jacket, with a bright golden waistcoat and a matching cravat. His hair, which needed a trim, was casually styled with a few errant locks curling atop his forehead. The marquess was very handsome, even if his bearing seemed too arrogant and uncompromising.
He took a step toward her, his powerful presence not intimidating her. Something was reassuring about the marquess. The sense of it was inexplicable and outrageous, for she did not know him.
“Lady Phillipa, we meet again,” he said with a dry bite. “How curious after enduring several seasons and never before meeting you.”
He sounded as if he had never anticipated meeting her again. As she peered up into his eyes, a shock jolted her heart. She only saw indifference. All the admiration from their earlier meeting vanished, and it was with a sense of alarm that she realized he had no intention of ever meeting or even interacting with her again. The blunt truth that had resounded in his note to her was reflected in his gaze.
What about her repelled his senses when she found him so…endlessly fascinating? “It is the nature of events that once something…wonderful is seen, it can never be unseen.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “How perfectly arrogant.”
“Of course,” she said with a demure smile.
