Grace (13 page)

“The Earl of Huntwick, of course,” her aunt replied, then turned in surprise when she heard her niece suddenly suck in her breath.

Grace looked toward the entrance in obvious trepidation. Sure enough, almost as soon as her aunt spoke, Trevor’s dark head appeared above everyone else’s, his
jade eyes already skipping over the crowd as though looking for someone in particular. She watched as his sweeping gaze paused imperceptibly at every red-haired girl, then dismissed each in turn, obviously not seeing the person for whom he searched.

Grace felt cornered. Almost in a panic, she began looking for a place to hide. For lack of any other option, in an effort to evade his notice she started to sidle behind Faith, whose partner had only just returned her from the floor. At just that moment his gaze collided with hers and her heart skipped a beat. Ironically, her small effort to avoid detection had drawn his attention. Pinning her in place with his eyes, he strode in her direction, the crowd parting with ease to let him through, then quickly filling in behind him as everyone jockeyed for position, trying to see who had caught his eye.

As she watched the man she had so much wanted to avoid bear inexorably down on her, Grace realized that, although she cared little for what the gathered crowd thought of her, she did care a great deal what she thought of herself. She checked the sudden impulse to turn tail and run. Instead she stood her ground, her chin raised a notch in that telltale position of defense, her blue eyes glaring into Trevor’s with ill-disguised hostility.

He drew near, taking his eyes off hers only long enough to request a formal introduction from Lady Egerton, who grinned with malicious glee. She could almost see and feel the sparks of animosity flying between her niece and the Earl of Huntwick. Wondering how they had met, as neither Grace nor Faith had even mentioned an acquaintance with the earl, Aunt Cleo immediately decided that putting these two together as often as possible would transform what had promised to be a predictably dull Season into a most diverting one. She accepted Trevor’s request, turning to her niece in delight.

“Grace!” she practically bellowed, deliberately ignoring
the imploring look directed at her. “May I present Lord Trevor Caldwell, the Earl of Huntwick. My lord, my nieces, Miss Grace and Miss Faith Ackerly.”

Grace remained obstinately silent as the earl greeted Faith, then pressed her lips together as he turned to smile down at her. Aunt Cleo sighed with exasperation. A little prodding would be necessary, she saw. Leaning toward Grace, she hissed, “Do
not
embarrass me, miss!”

With chagrined surprise, Grace looked at her aunt, feeling immediate shame for her selfish behavior. Accustomed to doing precisely as she wished in Pelthamshire, where nobody cared if she romped about in breeches or spoke out of turn at afternoon teas, she had not realized that the way she acted here in town might reflect negatively on anybody else.

Guilt-stricken at the thought that she might cause her aunt embarrassment with her actions, and left with no other option, she reluctantly put her hand into the one Trevor still held out toward her. He raised it to his lips. Grace snatched it back from him as soon as she could do so without causing any more of a scene than they already had. “A pleasure, my lord,” she said with a quick, halfhearted curtsy. Her wrist tingled where his lips had brushed it.

“Would you do me the favor of joining me in this dance, Miss Ackerly?”

Her eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t dance with . . .” she began angrily, before she caught her aunt’s stern eye and closed her mouth with a snap. Her mind searched frantically for a way out, then seized upon an easy—and luckily legitimate—excuse. She choked back her original sharp retort, and instead smiled sweetly at Trevor. “That is to say, I would love to dance with you, my lord, but I believe this dance is a waltz, and the patronesses have not yet given me their approval to dance the waltz.” She did her level best to look contrite. She succeeded quite admirably until she saw
Trevor look across the room at Lady Sally Jersey, raise his eyebrows, and incline his head toward Grace. With escalating dismay, she saw the revered patroness nod her haughty approval, neatly and unknowingly maneuvering Grace into Trevor’s trap.

She would find no way out this time, she realized as Trevor again held out his arm to her. Reluctantly she placed her gloved hand upon it and woodenly walked along beside him to the dance floor, glancing back in dismay at Aunt Cleo, who grinned in complete enjoyment of her predicament. Trevor pulled her into his arms and they began to move in time to the music.

The Earl of Huntwick danced very well, she admitted to herself after a few moments. He moved with the same easy grace and confidence she had noticed when she had danced with him at the Assembly Rooms in Pelthamshire, giving her a feeling of comfort that lulled her and allowed her to relax somewhat in his arms. She became so soothed by the easy motion that his next remark caught her utterly off guard.

“You look beautiful in women’s clothing, my dear.”

She stiffened, then frowned at his use of such a personal endearment, her momentary peace dispelled by their customary bristling animosity. She looked quickly around to see if anyone else had heard, and noticed that the fascinated crowd had focused their complete attention on Trevor and herself.

A wonderful, vengeful idea took root. She glanced furtively up at her partner and found Trevor smiling tenderly down at her in a way she could describe only as affectionate. With a surge of triumph, she averted her eyes to the general vicinity of his shoulder, afraid he might see by her changing expression that she planned to exact revenge.

From her experiences thus far in society, she knew that everyone watched everything everyone else did, and that
everyone gossiped about everyone else all the time. She also knew that if Trevor continued to look at her in such a tender manner, she would have the power to make him appear a thoroughly besotted fool by looking as bored and disinterested as she possibly could. Quite suddenly the idea of dancing with society’s most eligible no longer angered her, for it would allow her, quite effectively, to put him in a place he richly deserved. It would not escape the notice of the ever-watchful ton that the Earl of Huntwick gazed in what looked very much like devoted adoration at his dancing partner; nor would they miss seeing how very bored that partner appeared. Quickly Grace schooled her features into a mask of exaggerated ennui.

Unbeknownst to Grace, Trevor had watched her expressions change with amusement. He knew that she planned to do something, although he wondered just what machinations paraded through her agile mind. Whatever she plotted, it totally occupied her thoughts, keeping her very quiet. He frowned. She also looked rather bored. Suddenly he knew precisely what she intended to do. She thought that if she bored him, he might leave her alone. He grinned, admiring her ingenuity. The little minx! He looked around at the assembled crowd, most of whom watched them dance, and suddenly comprehended that Grace did not intend to bore him, but to make it appear as though
he
bored
her
. By the expressions on the faces of those assembled, her scheme had begun to work. He watched an attractive young lady turn to her companion, say something behind her fan, and giggle, actually pointing in their direction. His amusement faded as he realized that Grace had already enjoyed a fair amount of success. He looked down at her again and saw her pretend to stifle a contrived yawn. His jaw tightened in annoyance, even as he realized that she hoped for just such a reaction from him. Reining in his
anger, he decided to finish in his own way the game she had started.

He began rubbing his thumb in light, feathery circles on her back. He felt her skin jump in response through the thin silk of her mint-green gown. “Some say the waltz is a dangerous dance,” he said, his low-timbred voice sending chills skittering down her spine.

Grace forced herself to sigh in weary disinterest; then she squinted at his shoulder as if in deep concentration. Very deliberately, she reached up and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his immaculate black jacket.

Trevor pulled her ever so slightly closer, his warm hand firmly pressed to the center of her back. “Such an intimate partnering,” he continued in the same deep, sensual tone. “Almost an embrace,” he added meaningfully.

Her heart began to pound so loudly she feared he could hear it. Making an effort to continue the charade she had started, Grace forced herself to yawn delicately again, then closed her eyes, trying in vain to shut out the evocative effect of the heat emanating from his hard body.

“It feels good to hold you in my arms again,” he whispered, bending his head so that his lips moved very close to her ear, his warm breath stirring the tendrils of her hair that curled there.

Her eyes flew open at the disturbing images
that
statement brought to mind, images of his strong hands gently caressing her body, his lips moving softly against hers. In spite of herself, two bright spots of embarrassed color suddenly flared on her cheeks.

Trevor gave a low chuckle of satisfaction. “I see you remember as well as I the pleasure we found beneath that tree.”

Having lost her battle to gain the upper hand, Grace raised angry eyes to the earl’s warm jade ones and became
lost in their sensuous, unwavering depths. Helpless, she softened in his arms, gliding through the rest of the waltz with ease, her eyes locked with his, that now-familiar ache deep within her stomach beginning to unfurl and spread throughout her body. She searched for words to describe that intangible something that felt so innately right about dancing in the arms of this one man, this incredible, infuriating man who looked down at her with tender, aching promise as the lilting music drew to a close. Then reality came crashing down on the spell he had momentarily woven around them.

Trevor led Grace back to her aunt, her eyes downcast to hide the dismay that was quickly turning to anger as she realized, with self-loathing, that she
,
not the tall, smugly self-assured man at her side, had behaved like a besotted little fool. By the time they reached Aunt Cleo, who waited to present her next partner to her, Grace felt once again the blazing fury that only Trevor managed to ignite within her.

Deliberately ignoring the baleful stare she directed at him, Trevor kissed her hand. “Thank you for the waltz, my dear,” he said in a warm, low tone. He spoke politely to Aunt Cleo for a moment, then strolled off as though completely unaffected by their exchange on the dance floor.

Grace followed him with infuriated eyes. How could he act so cool and unruffled when his very presence always left her feeling utterly unsettled? She tore her eyes from his retreating back to face her aunt. Stiffly, she greeted the young, eager-looking man who stood there, and she automatically accepted his nervous invitation to dance. As she moved toward the dance floor, she saw Trevor now leaning against the far wall, smiling at her with a decidedly wolfish leer.

She lifted her chin and glared down her nose at him, then turned a deliberate, dazzling smile on her escort, Lord
Pattingson, quite taking him aback, for he had noticed, along with everyone else, that she had not graced the Earl of Huntwick with even a small smile. So vivaciously did she smile and flirt and chat with him during their dance that afterward he was heard to remark that, although Faith Ackerly was undoubtedly the more beautiful of the Ackerly sisters, Grace possessed both beauty
and
charm. On top of that, he pointed out, she had shown a decided preference for him over Lord Caldwell.

From that point on, Grace gave the appearance of a young lady having the time of her life. She danced every dance, flirted outrageously with her partners, and was so buoyantly charming that gentlemen of all ages and peer groups began to seek her out. The older gentlemen found her intelligent discourse on almost any subject refreshing, while the greenest of young dandies found they need not fear a rebuff if they screwed up the courage to speak to her. Even those gentlemen deemed prime catches by society found welcome respite from the ever-threatening claws of wedlock in her presence, for it stood to reason that if she had repulsed the attentions of Huntwick, the most eligible of them all, they certainly risked no matrimonial danger from Grace Ackerly.

As the circle of admiring males grew ever larger around Grace and her aunt, Trevor leaned against the wall and watched her, a small, indulgent smile lingering about his lips. He spoke periodically with friends who strolled by, and occasionally dutifully kissed the hand of a nervous young miss prodded in his direction by her chaperone, but his possessive gaze did not leave Grace for long; nor did he dance again that night, effectively putting the stamp of ownership on her just as surely as if his ring already graced her finger.

Shortly after midnight, Lady Egerton, Grace, and Faith took their leave. Trevor, too, left Almack’s amidst whispering
and gossip that flew on winged feet throughout the ballrooms and bedrooms of London. The earl, thoroughly satisfied with all he had learned this evening, decided to forgo the ball at Jon and Amanda Lloyd’s, and instead returned to his house on Upper Brook Street. He did not notice the tall, shadowy figure on the corner who watched both his carriage and the Egerton coach leave Almack’s.

The Egerton coach made its way through the dark cobbled streets to the ball at the Earl and Countess of Seth’s home, the moods of its occupants quite different from Trevor’s. Grace sat in tense, brooding silence, her earlier acts of lighthearted frivolity entirely dispensed with, while Faith sat on the seat directly across from Grace and watched her sister thoughtfully. Aunt Cleo simply looked smugly well entertained. Yes, Lady Egerton thought to herself as the coach drew up at the Lloyds’ town house, the Season would prove
most
engaging this year.

The newspapers the next morning told the story for those unfortunate Londoners who had not already heard the extraordinary news. The
Times
reported that Miss Grace Ackerly had debuted her first public waltz with none other than the Earl of Huntwick, after which she had enjoyed an unprecedented popularity, and appeared to have had a wonderful time (which she had not). The
Morning Post
’s article read that, after dancing with Miss Ackerly, the Earl of Huntwick seemed perfectly content to prop up a wall and watch her dance (which, indeed, he did). The
Gazette
went a step further, boldly promising to leave space in its society column should the Earl of Huntwick find need for a future wedding announcement.