Love Between the Lines (16 page)

Gideon hadn’t approached Brinker about hiring the servant to conduct something of a flirtation with Miss Drury. He was too much of a coward, and now the valet was in a tizzy because of Gideon’s invitation to the exclusive event Brinker assured him would be the highlight of the season.

Gideon
was fairly certain he’d gotten an invitation to the ball because of his connection to Lady Edith, who would also be attending. She must have dropped a word into the hostess’s ear.

Only
two hundred of society’s best and brightest had invitations to this event. The Morozov String Orchestra had been brought in from St. Petersburg to play.

The room sparkled with
gold candles reflected on crystal bowls filled with flowers, and on chandeliers and immense mirrors hung for the occasion.

Gideon standing against a wall, already rather bored, began to try to count candles and gave up when he de
cided he couldn’t discern the mirrored reflections from reality.

So then he began to look for faces he knew and realized that
he recognized nearly all of them, although not always personally. Their engraved likenesses had appeared in the pages of his publications.

O
nly the titled or the accomplished were present in the crowd of dancers. Gideon, a successful publisher and baronet, was well aware of his own worth on the social scene and knew he was located on the lower branches of this rarified tree. The young ladies who attended this ball would tell their grandchildren about it.

Gideon
located his betrothed, who was about to take her place in a dance. He penciled in his name on Lady Edith’s dance card for one of the last dances before supper—although not the supper dance itself. “I had good reason to allow Lord Wilkins that dance,” she confided. “He will be the most influential in your career.”

“
My career?” Gideon asked. “As what?”

She
gave him a sweet, closed-mouth smile. Lady Edith rarely showed her teeth when she smiled. “I admit I should like to be a political wife. Or perhaps you’d prefer a diplomatic career? You must have a preference.”

He reminded himself this was
precisely the sort of partnership he wanted and he had no reason to feel uneasy. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

Lady Edith
’s partner for the next dance came to claim her hand. He watched the admiral lead her away and wondered if she expected Gideon to begin a military career at this late date.

She curtsied and danced, all
her movements careful and slightly wooden. He wondered if she ever imagined flinging up her hands, kicking off her shoes, and carrying on like a dance-hall singer. He could imagine Miss Drury doing such a thing after a couple of glasses of champagne. She held back her wild side, naturally. But it didn’t lurk so deep that he couldn’t catch glimpses of it.

Gideon considered the vario
us ways he’d try to convince the very proper Brinker to take on the duties of a social escort to Miss Drury—without the intimate contact. Could it be considered within the normal duties of a valet?

Peter
sly’s example of the imaginary lusty maid came to mind, and he ruthlessly pushed the image out again. He did not wish to think of naked, squirming bodies. That led to thoughts of Miss Drury’s slender body, naked—and there came that rush of awareness and desire.

C
hrist.

Standing at the edge of the dance floo
r, watching his fiancée dance, he was thinking about another woman naked. And now he was imagining her in other capacities too. Because there was Lord Petersly, and the woman he escorted looked very much like…

Miss Drury.

Oh, the bloody miserable bastard had gone after her just as he said he would. Browbeaten her into joining the social whirl. Gideon’s anger was tempered by something like grudging admiration. The man refused to give up. And how had Petersly wrangled an invitation for her to this event?

Gideon watched Peter
sly present her to their hostess and decided the earl would make a fine reporter. He had no shame about pushing himself into places he wasn’t welcome. Maybe after Gideon had beaten him into a senseless jelly, he’d offer Petersly a job. The earl wouldn’t even have to pick up a pen. He could dictate stories to Jenks.

No, wait
. Gideon must stop thinking about the paper—or rather start thinking about his next career. Something refined and decent. No more stink of ink, no more rushing after scandal; he’d have the respectability his father had longed for and never achieved because the late Langham, Bart, had been too fond of drink and cards.

He made his way across to where Miss Drury stood next to Peter
sly, speaking animatedly to the seemingly bored earl.

“
You’re looking well this evening,” he told her. Faint praise. The woman glowed more than the candles. The soft rose gown made her skin like a fine pearl.

But she didn
’t seem to notice that he sounded like an idiot. “Thanks,” she said. “You too. In fact this is the most gorgeous crowd in the most stunning setting I’ve ever beheld.”

“
And how did you come to receive an invitation?”

“
Lord Petersly introduced me as his cousin and no one tossed me out as an imposter. Apparently I’m visiting England with my aunt from Boston—no relation to His Lordship—but she is too ill to attend the ball. We’re going to have to figure that auntie out, my lord. You shouldn’t have improvised like that.”

“
Is that what you were discussing just now?”

At her side,
Petersly spoke up. “Oh no. She would quibble about every detail. First we had to discuss the crowds of onlookers who are gathered at the entrance. Did I happen to notice that several had no shoes? As if I had any interest in studying the feet of the hoi polloi.” He gave a tiny sigh. “And now we must speculate as to the price of the candles and if they were covered with real gold leaf and where did all the mirrors come from. And how many servants are here this evening and why anyone would want to dress them in gold and if they’d have occasion to wear the gold-colored breeches ever again.” He sounded bemused. “Miss Drury here is a true Yankee, obsessed with the cost of everything.”

She
didn’t grow ruffled by the insult. “You mistake me,” she said earnestly. “I am curious about the cost only because it’s an indication of something more. Conspicuous wealth is always interesting if only because one wonders whom the spender is trying to impress and why.”

Petersly
crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. “So no getting caught in the enchantment? No falling in love under the fairy lights of the garden?”

“
I’m working,” she said, sounding surprised. “It is all very beautiful. I can see, for heaven’s sake. But I’m supposed to be thinking, not feeling.”

“
If you went to a magic show, you wouldn’t be satisfied until you uncovered every wire and trick of the magician.”

She only smiled
, flashing those very white teeth of hers. Petersly, normally the most urbane man, made a noise like a small explosion. Gideon couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for the man.

“
Will you dance?” asked Gideon.

“
Is that an invitation?” She looked adorable as her blue eyes searched his face. Good God, she even blushed, and suddenly she was just a young lady in a lovely gown at a ball.

No, it wasn
’t an invitation. He’d simply wondered if she’d dance rather than make herself too conspicuous by turning down all the men who asked. And they would be asking her. Escorted by Lord Petersly and introduced as his American cousin, she’d already gained a social cachet that would guarantee it. He wondered what on earth he’d been doing when he came up with this plan. That’s righ
t
—
she had just bashed him over the head. Literally.

Peter
sly took a step forward as if he would be the first to ask, and so of course Gideon held out his hand to Miss Drury. “I would very much enjoy a dance with you,” he said.

“
You ought to be dancing with me,
cousin
,” said Petersly. The man was either truly besotted or up to some strange new trick. Either explanation worried Gideon.

“
Later, I hope.” Miss Drury gave a one-shoulder shrug, drawing Gideon’s attention to her exposed shoulder. The woman had creamy smooth flesh, and it wasn’t just the flattery of golden candles.

Gideon offered his arm
, grateful for the gloves he wore. If he’d had to touch her and encountered some bare skin… No, he must not think about the lithe body next to his.

He concentrated
on work, trying to conjure arguments for and against blending the
Homemaker’s Monthly
with the
Milady’s Parlour
in order to revive both publications.

And then he realized the next dance was a waltz
.

He focused
on a candelabrum over Miss Drury’s left shoulder. Resting his hand at her lower back, he grasped her other hand in his—once again grateful for the gloves—and began.

She was a tolerable danc
er, quiet for once, as if she concentrated on counting steps.

“
You’ve spent hours trying to convince me you don’t want to write this sort of article. Why did you change your mind?”

She was silent for a
few turns. “I’d already said I would write something—I keep my word, Sir Gideon. And then Lord Petersly showed up at my boardinghouse. He pointed out all that I owed you and he said by being difficult, I was not being a professional. Oh, speaking of which, I’ve been accused of being in the wrong sort of profession. Mrs. Pruitt, the landlady, is on the verge of throwing me out. She saw some of my new wardrobe and noticed the earl when he came to visit. She can put two and two together, as she says. I’m no better than I should be.”

“
Good Lord, I’m very sorry,” Gideon said.

“
It should be easy enough to find new lodgings.”

“
But the embarrassment…”

“
I’d only be embarrassed if I had truly done something wrong.”

“
Your reputation, then.”

“
Bah.” She grinned up at him. “That only bothers me when it interferes with getting a story.”

“
Or when it interferes with your personal life.”

“
What personal life?” she asked.

At that moment
, his fiancée danced past them with a rotund man—the ambassador from Austria, he believed.

“
That’s Lady Edith, your fiancée,” Miss Drury said. She wasn’t really asking.

“
Yes, how did you know?”

“
Don’t you read your own publications? There’s an engraving of her
in
Milady’s Parlour
. And she’s dancing with Herr Weltzer, the philosopher from Vienna.”

God, he was slipping badly these days.
He had to retrieve his brain, reclaim his attention from whatever part was touching Miss Drury—or yearning to touch her. A waltz, for pity’s sake, and now his breathing didn’t seem to be functioning properly. Perhaps he could recall an urgent appointment elsewhere. He caught the scent of whatever exotic flower she wore.

Lizzy must not enjoy herself. She could not get caught up in the music and dancing and beauty. She must not ogle
Sir Gideon’s form. It didn’t take much examination to conclude that the cut of his standard evening uniform—black trousers, black tailcoat over a gleaming white starched front, and low white vest—suited him.

He danced beautifully. She knew this because she could barely manage to move her feet under normal dancing conditions and now, with the way he held her firmly and moved with conviction, she felt practically graceful. Twirling through a
lush fairy-tale setting.

All right. She
’d let go, and for the rest of this dance she would pretend to be a standard sort of girl, sweeping across the polished floor. No, she’d be more than standard; she’d be the enchanting temptress who had found love at last.

Ugh. That was too much.

No stories, then. For the little time left in her brief holiday of a dance, she concentrated on the music and the feel of his arms around her. The music, the candles, the scent of hothouse roses… She shifted just a little closer so she might catch his scent.

“
Don’t make a scandal of us,” he said. He sounded slightly breathless and not annoyed. Apologetic.

“
Sorry,” she said. “It’s been years since I danced. I’m out of practice.”

“
I understand you’ve expressed interest in the Ellen Miles case. What will you do? Visit her at the asylum?”

He
’d broken her temporary spell. The man was supposed to talk about the flowers in her hair, the gossamer gown she wore, and her beautiful smile. Just for this dance.