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“You already danced with Lady Phillipa twice, my good man. I assure you thetonhas already taken note. According to my darling countess, the ‘not dancing more than twice’ rule is really applicable to one night. Dancing twice with the same lady on the same night will raise brows and start tongues wagging and, if you should dance a third time with a lady on that night, then you better have organized the announcement of their marriage. Since thetonthinks you such a right rogue, dancingonlywith Lady Phillipa at every ball will be discussed, my friend. If you ask her again tonight, speculation will run like wildfire. They will think perhaps you are courting her, but few will believe it, not when it is known you are adverse to marriage, so they will make the naughtiest suppositions and perhaps even ruin her with gossip suggesting you are courting her for a dalliance instead.”
“This is such damn nonsense,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her animated expression as she chatted with her friends. “I’ve never gone around telling everyone I will never marry.”
Wycliffe choked and William cast his friend a black scowl.
“Ensure you remove that expression before asking another lady to dance.”
The earl clapped him on the shoulder and went over to his wife, who beamed up at her husband with delight.
Hell. He scanned the ballroom with a measured gaze, wondering which lady he should ask to dance. One of the friends she stood with, or would that still be too close to her? He sought out a dancing partner on the opposite end of the ballroom and spied the lady he’d heard a few gentlemen referred to as this season’s diamond—Lady Priscilla Darby, the daughter of the Duke of Pomeroy. She was rather beautiful with her upswept blonde hair, slim, elegant figure clad in a pale rose-colored gown that flattered her coloring and figure. She was surrounded by ladies and gentlemen all seeming to vie for her attention and she held court like a princess.
Swallowing down his irritation, and slipping on his mask of roguish charm, William prowled over. Lady Priscilla noticed his arrival and her lips parted on a gasp, her eyes widening. He did not mistake the triumph that glittered in those bright gray eyes, or the way she flirtatiously lowered her lashes. He was already mindlessly bored. Gritting his teeth, William secured an introduction, and then requested a dance. A few bucks tried to assure him all her dances were spoken for, but the lady boldly stepped forward and peeked up at him from beneath incredibly long lashes.
“I am free for the next set, my lord,” she said, smiling. “Viscount Prendergast mentioned just now his feet were tired and might sit this one out.”
The viscount flushed and stiffened. William knew no such conversation had occurred, but he only held out his hand to her. “I am delighted.”
Of course, it was a damn waltz.
He swept her onto the dance floor into the sensual dance, doing his best to not look over the lady’s shoulders at Pippa. He moved her with a vigor that had her gasping. Pippa had certainly kept pace with his energy.
“You are an incredible dancer, my lord,” she said flushed, and breathless.
“So are you, Lady Priscilla.”
She fluttered her lashes.
Truly this was torture. William scowled.
“Have I said something to displeasure you, my lord?”
“No.”
He spun her in a smooth twirl, shoved down his apathy deep inside, and prepared to be charming enough under the watchful eyes of theton.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
In a stunning surprise that will certainly have many maters of the ton wondering about a certain marquess’s intention, he has stepped out in society and danced with a particular lady twice. There was rife speculation that this lady might have won his favor and then in a stunning upset at Lady M’s midnight ball, another great beauty, the D of P’s only daughter seemed to have snagged his regard leaving one to wonder if one of our most elusive lords has finally met his match and is ready to settle down.
The Daily Gossip.
“Surely this is referring to Lord Trent,” Harriet said, her gaze gleaming. “You and Lady Priscilla.”
Pippa had been trying very hard to not think about the marquess and had thought by being at the club she might be spared. She scowled at her friends who only grinned back at her.
“What a triangle,” Miss Eveline Sutton, a recent member of Berkeley Square said with a laugh. “I do not believe Lady Priscilla is a true contender for the marquess’s attention. I mean, Lord Trent spent two days with you alone in Derbyshire. That puts you part ahead in the game, Pippa.”
Pippa tossed her hands in the air. “What game, Evie? There is no game afoot! And if there was, I certainly do not give a fig about being ahead.”
What she cared about was stilling the longing tormenting her for that one special gentleman. She glared at the wager board at 48 Berkeley Square, especially the line that placed her name beside the marquess as one of his potential brides this season. “Who wrote my name there?”
Several infectious giggles rose in the air. Pippa fought not to smile even as her heart broke into smaller pieces. The marquess had danced with Lady Priscilla twice in recent days. That he had danced with a few other society ladies hardly mattered. He had done so twice! Their eyes had met across the expanse of the ballroom a few times, but she had seen no glint of affection or anything in his stare. He had been merely…polite. Yet she had yearned to be with him, and had returned home, sobbing into her pillow, and wondering if she had made a dreadful mistake in refusing his honorable offer of marriage. Even if he did not love her yet, she had a lifetime to build sentiments between them. She had seen his kindness and honor and his character. Pippa should have trusted in those things and not acted contrary to the desperate hunger she had inside to be with him.
And worse, the gossips hinted that the duke’s daughter mentioned she might be tempted to marriage if an offer came from the marquess.
“There is a game afoot,” Lady Drusilla said, going over to the board. “We know the marquess is the one playing it, but we cannot tell who will be his ultimate goal.”
What?Pippa frowned and stepped closer. “What do you mean?”
