My Fair Princess (10 page)

The three of them studied Leverton and his partner in silence. Unfortunately, Gillian couldn't deduce what he was thinking from his expression. The man was bloody inscrutable when he wanted to be. Apparently, now was one of those times.

Lady Letitia was speaking to him in an earnest, rapid-fire way, and it appeared that Leverton was listening just as earnestly. He even nodded once or twice, as if giving her encouragement. At least her ladyship seemed to take it as encouragement, because she snuggled even closer, all but rubbing her breasts against him.

Gillian supposed she shouldn't be surprised at the intimacy, since the duke had once been engaged to the woman. That, however, was all she knew. Leverton had refused to impart anything but the fact that they'd been betrothed, and that Lady Letitia had broken it off and married Stratton instead.

Gillian turned her back on the disturbing sight. “I'm sure the duke is just being polite. He's very polite to everyone.”

“If you say so,” Honoria replied, skeptically.

“Oh, no,” Sarah hissed, grabbing her cousin's arm. “Don't look now, but—”

“Well, look who's here,” a male voice cut in. “The notorious Miss Dryden and her wallflower friends. What fun for me.”

Chapter Ten

Gillian turned to find a gentleman standing before them, in company with Mr. Gerald Stratton. She thought Stratton's smile looked a little strained, but his companion regarded Honoria, who'd gone pale and thin-lipped, with a nasty smile. Sarah, meanwhile, glared at the men with an ill-disguised look of outrage.

Stratton executed a pretty bow. “Miss Dryden, it's a pleasure to see you again, and in such pleasant company. And everyone is looking splendid tonight, I must say.”

The other man was a tall, clever-looking fellow with padded shoulders and an exquisitely tied cravat. He quickly inspected Honoria and Sarah through his quizzing glass before turning the glass on Gillian. She was tempted to knock the blasted thing from his grasp and grind it under her heel, and then knock the sneering expression off his face.

“Some of us are,” he drawled as he studied Gillian. Through the glass, his eye looked gigantic and bug-like. “But you do love to flatter the ladies, Gerry, and they love to flatter you back.”

Stratton let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Don't talk nonsense, Andover. Besides, there's nothing wrong with complimenting the ladies, is there?”

Andover. That explained it. The man who'd insulted Honoria.

“Perhaps Mr. Stratton was merely trying to be polite,” Gillian said. “It's a quality often in short supply amongst members of the
ton,
especially the men.”

That gave the gentlemen pause.

Andover recovered first. “How delightfully blunt. I had heard so much about you, Miss Dryden, that I had to beg old Stratton here for a formal introduction.”

“You'll be sadly disappointed, sir,” she replied. “I'm really nothing special.”

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” Andover purred. “I'll be happy to oblige.” What he no doubt thought was a seductive smile was spoiled by his stained front teeth.

“Don't trouble yourself on my behalf. I assure you it's a waste of time.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I see you're an original. How delightful. Perhaps your modesty is offended because we've yet to be properly introduced?”

Gillian shook her head. “No, I think I'm just generally offended.”

Andover's expression turned ugly when Sarah and Honoria choked back startled giggles.

“My fault for not making the proper introductions,” Stratton blurted out. “So sorry, ladies, I don't know what I was thinking.”

Gillian frowned. Stratton, who'd struck her in their first meeting as a self-possessed man, looked thoroughly uncomfortable. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for her grandmother. Unfortunately, Grandmamma had moved away to speak to a friend, and her back was now turned.

“Yes, Stratton,” Andover said. “Do make the appropriate introductions. I would hate for Miss Dryden to be uncomfortable with me. Quite the opposite in fact.”

She sighed. There were times when she preferred insults to flattery, and this was one of them.

“Andover, may I introduce you to Miss Gillian Dryden,” Stratton said. “Miss Dryden, my friend, the Earl of Andover.”

The earl flourished a bow. “Miss Dryden, it's an honor. I've been quite longing to meet you.”

She gave him a toothy smile. “You said you've heard about me. Well, I've heard about you, too.”

He looked disconcerted for a moment, but then recovered. “All good, I hope.”

“Quite the opposite, but I'm not one to gossip.”

Honoria let out a startled squeak that brought Andover's attention back to her. The poor girl cringed a bit, but then stiffened her shoulders and stared defiantly back.

“A word of advice, Miss Dryden,” Andover said. “It's best not to listen to gossip, especially from resentful little wallflowers jealous of attractive young ladies such as yourself.”

Sarah and Honoria gasped at the insult, and Stratton sounded like he was choking. As for Andover, he deserved a swift uppercut to the jaw—or a knee to the bollocks. But Gillian had promised her grandmother that she'd behave. Besides, causing a scene would hardly help her friends.

“I will be sure to take your words under advisement,” she said in a polite tone. “Since I'm a wallflower myself, however, I hardly think I'm in any position to judge.”

“Come now, Miss Dryden,” his lordship said. “No girl with your lovely face and many physical charms could ever be deemed a wallflower. I do wish you would allow me to take you for a turn around the room or honor me with a dance.”

The man was a complete bounder. “I'm sure you'd find me utterly boring in no time. Besides, I'm perfectly happy with my present company.” She smiled at her friends, who both beamed back at her.

“What a pity,” Andover drawled. “And here I thought you were such a goer. At least that's what Stratton said.”

Though Gillian was unfamiliar with the term, Honoria's shocked expression and Sarah's outraged huff gave her a clue.

“I never said any such thing,” Stratton objected loudly. That had the unfortunate effect of causing several heads to swivel and crane in their direction.

Sarah glared at Andover. “Sir, apologize to Miss Dryden or leave us immediately.”

Gillian appreciated her friend's loyalty. Sadly, though, they were drawing more notice by the second. For once, it wasn't her fault—a nice bit of irony that, under the circumstances, meant little. She patted Sarah's arm. “It's nothing I haven't heard before. It's all just silliness, best ignored.”

Andover's gaze narrowed with an ugly sneer. Clearly, he wasn't used to rejection. “No doubt you've heard quite a lot. I'm sure that's true for your dear mamma, too. She had quite the reputation in her day, did she not? And you know what they say—like mother, like daughter.”

Something incendiary seemed to go off in Gillian's chest, flashing anger throughout her body. Still, she managed a pleasant smile. “I'm not sure I take your meaning, my lord. Italian was my first language, so sometimes my understanding of English lacks subtlety.”

“I'm quite sure you understand, my dear,” he said, boldly staring at her décolletage.

“You're a monster.” Honoria's voice vibrated with fury. “Leave her alone.”

“Good God, man, you're clearly in your cups,” hissed Stratton, grabbing Andover's arm. He cast a nervous glance at the growing circle of eavesdroppers. “Why don't we go to the card room?”

The earl shook him off and let his gaze sweep slowly and contemptuously over Honoria's figure. “I'm sorry, did you say something, Miss Cranston? Or was it just a moo I heard?”

As Honoria raised a trembling hand to her mouth, Gillian patted her shoulder. “Don't worry, dear. I'll take care of this.”

She gave Andover the same chilling smile that had prompted more than one Sicilian bandit to take to his heels. “My lord, you should have taken your leave when you had the chance.”

* * *

“Dear Charles, I'd forgotten how well you dance,” Letitia purred. “I insist that you save me the second waltz, for old time's sake.”

As he led her from the floor, Charles was tempted to remind her that those old times had almost ended in the ruination of her good name. Only his steadfast determination to prevent a scandal—and his father's money—had swept the nasty affair under the carpet. While Gerry and Letitia had escaped more or less unscathed, Charles had not. He would never forget what the ugly episode had done to his father and to their relationship. His father had warned him about Letitia, but Charles had refused to listen.

When he didn't answer, Letitia took his arm and snuggled close, brushing her full breasts against him. Once, the temptation of her lush body would have driven him mad with lust. Now he wanted only to escape.

“Unless, of course, you're promised to dance with someone else,” she said as he steered her around a cluster of matrons.

Two old friends of his mother snapped their fans in judgment. The others simply smiled and gave friendly nods. Lady Letitia Stratton might have been considered fast in her salad days, but that didn't mean she wasn't good
ton
. Her father was an earl, after all, and her husband was heir to a respectable estate and title. A beautiful and stylish hostess, Letitia threw lavish and entertaining parties. Only the highest of sticklers disapproved of her anymore, while most explained away any mistakes or faults of the past as flowing from youthful exuberance.

They didn't know what Charles knew.

Letitia was turning out to be damned hard to shake. She'd latched onto him in the same manner at two other social occasions since that unfortunate encounter in the park, and Charles was firmly convinced she was up to something.

Right now, however, his goal was to get back to Gillian. She could get into trouble in endlessly inventive ways, especially in a setting like this one.

“Well, Charles?” Letitia said.

“Well, what?” he absently asked as he gave the crowd a quick scan. He finally spotted Gillian halfway up the room with Lendale and the rest of their group. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Jack would keep a weather eye out for her until Charles could make his way over there.

“I asked if you were already engaged to waltz with someone else,” Letitia said with asperity. “Goodness, why are you so distracted?” She turned and followed the path of his gaze. “Ah, so you
are
interested in your adorable little protégé. I suspected as much.”

Only a fool could miss the venom in her voice.

“If by
interested
you mean I'm concerned for her welfare, then yes.” he said coolly. “The Marburys are members of my family, as is Miss Dryden.”

“And do you always take such an interest in your family's unmarried young ladies? Half of London is talking about how His Grace, the Duke of Leverton, is lending his august approval to an untutored chit of a girl. It's vastly amusing, you must admit.”

“Do I look amused?”

She studied him, as if truly looking at him for the first time that evening. “I must admit that you do not.”

“I would think that you, of all people, Letitia, would know better than to listen to half-baked gossip.”

“Ah, but gossip can be so instructive, Charles. And a good many people find Miss Dryden to be a very diverting topic of conversation.”

“How very dull of them,” he said. “Miss Dryden is an unexceptionable young lady, I assure you.”

Letitia directed her attention to where Gillian stood with her grandmother and a few friends. Charles got a small jolt when he saw that Jack had suddenly disappeared. Charles had been depending on him to keep the wolves at bay.

“Still, she is lovely,” Letitia said. “Miss Dryden is sure to attract many admirers.”

Letitia didn't need to point out the type of admirers the girl was most likely to attract, looking as she did. Tonight, she was displaying as a diamond of the first water in a cream and gold-spangled gown that flowed lovingly over her graceful figure. Her dark hair was coiled around her head in a simple braid, with a few tendrils whispering like silky ribbons around her temples and neck. Under the glow of the candlelight, her skin, tanned by the rays of the Sicilian sun, seemed like gold, too. In fact, everything about her shimmered, like a Roman coin polished to a high gleam. Gillian had rendered Charles all but speechless when she'd walked into her grandmother's drawing room tonight, and he was not a man normally at a loss for words. The last woman to strike him dumb with her beauty was, unfortunately, standing right beside him now.

“I have no doubt she will garner a number of respectable suitors,” he said.

“Including you?” Letitia taunted. “I wonder how your mother would feel about having a prince's by-blow for a daughter-in-law.”

“How vulgar of you, Letitia. But I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.”

He had to give her credit when she didn't even flinch. Instead, she trilled a pleasant, entirely artificial laugh. “Ah, but I forgot. No whisper of scandal must ever attach to the Leverton name. Perfect Penley would never lower himself to make so shocking a connection.”

She knew he hated that nickname. After all, she'd given it to him and had been delighted when the
ton
took it up as a great joke.

“How could you forget?” he said. “God knows I will always remember the price I had to pay to salvage your good name—and mine.”

His tone was hostile enough that she retreated an inch or two. He was about to take his leave, and to hell with good manners, when she surprised him by resting a hand on his arm. “I'm so glad,” she murmured. “I was quite worried you might be taken with the girl. I should have known better.”

He frowned. “Why the devil should you care one way or another?”

“Can't you guess?” she said, stroking his arm.

Charles removed her hand from his sleeve. “No, I cannot.”

When she opened her fan and began to leisurely wave it as she scanned the room, Charles knew she was toying with him. Her very presence was a reminder of what a callow youth he'd been. She'd manipulated him to great effect, and only by chance had he escaped.

But what was her game now, and how much trouble would it cause?

“You were always a handsome boy, Charles. But now you're so much more than that. Sometimes I think I made the wrong choice when I walked away from you.”

“Your memory is faulty, ma'am. I walked away from you.”

“Alas, so formal,” she sighed. “I much prefer when you call me Letitia. You used to do it so easily, remember? Especially when you wanted to kiss me.”