Passionate (35 page)

“Not entirely. And when did you return to England, Lord Reginald?”

“I’ve been back for some time. I can’t neglect my projects for too long, no matter how stimulating travel may be. But is my cousin James here?”

She frowned. “I have no idea where your cousin is—not that it is any business of yours.”

“Really?” He adjusted his diamond stickpin. “It was my impression that James was rather taken with you. I had supposed you returned the sentiment—wrongly, I am glad to know. Excellent judgment on your part, Miss Strathmore. My cousin was serving his own interests—as usual.”

She searched his face. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said, but if you would have it more bluntly—he was using you, Miss Strathmore, using all of you—”

“I say, Huntington,” Lord Buckley interrupted, returning with the beverages. He handed her a flute of champagne and turned back to Lord Reginald. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with Miss Strathmore. Are you keeping well?”

“I am. I was about to ask Miss Strathmore for a dance.” Lord Reginald watched Lily’s fingers close about the champagne flute, obviously not missing the fact that Lord Buckley was her escort. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. It is a social event, and we are here to be social. Any understanding Miss Strathmore and I might have certainly does not preclude her from dancing with a proper gentleman such as yourself.” He placed his hand in the small of Lily’s back.

She took a small step away from him.

“An understanding?” Lord Reginald raised one thin brow, a speculative look crossing his face. “I had no idea.”

Lily shook her head, but Lord Buckley continued. “Nothing announced yet, but it would be mutually advantageous for both of us.”

At that moment she could not decide who she loathed more—Lord Reginald for his knowing smirk or Lord Buckley for discussing the merits of their upcoming engagement in front of her as if she did not exist.

“Go ahead, Miss Strathmore,” her escort said. “Be gracious enough to grant Lord Huntington a dance.”

Wordlessly, Lily proffered her dance card. At least she would be able to pursue her conversation with Lord Reginald without interruption. What had he been saying about James?

Lord Reginald filled his name in with a flourish. “Good to see you again Buckley. Miss Strathmore, I shall return to claim my dance at the appointed time.” His smile held a predatory edge.

She nodded coolly. It was unsettling, facing Lord Reginald again. It made her realize how reassuring it had been to have James beside her during their previous encounters.

“I’m glad you found some congenial company,” Lord Buckley said, “but we really should join Mother. She was speaking with the Duchess of Carstairs just a moment ago.”

“As you wish.” Lily raised her glass to her lips. She really would have preferred lemonade. Frowning, she deposited the flute on a tray carried by a passing servant.

“Good gad, what a crush,” Lord Buckley said as they were forced to detour around a group of giggling young ladies. “I feel as though I’m swimming against a current.” He led her to where the crowd thinned.

“Lily! Lily Strathmore!” It was Uncle Edward, emerging from the crowd to lift her in a buoyant embrace. “Splendid to see you, my girl.”

She smiled back at him. “And you, Uncle.” More than she could say.

“Lily!” Aunt Mary hurried forward. “I hoped you would be here this evening. Wasn’t the news about the baronessa a surprise? How wonderful for her.”

Lily nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ve missed you all so much. Are you well?”

“We just arrived in London today. But do introduce us to your escort.” Aunt Mary looked at Lord Buckley.

Lily turned to him—there was no avoiding it now. “Lord Buckley, allow me to present my aunt, Lady Mary Strathmore, and my uncle, Sir Edward Strathmore.”

Lord Buckley bowed. “A pleasure to meet you. We were on our way to join my mother, Countess Buckley. There are some people she wants Miss Strathmore to meet, and it wouldn’t do to keep Mother waiting.”

“But I have exciting news to tell Lily,” Uncle Edward began.

Lord Buckley cleared his throat. “Miss Strathmore will certainly be able to spend some time with you later this evening. Please excuse us. We really must be going.”

Glancing back as Lord Buckley led her away, Lily saw her aunt lay a hand on Uncle Edward’s arm. He looked crestfallen. She vowed to find them again as soon as she could escape the countess.

Countess Buckley was seated on a divan, chatting with a regal, gray-haired lady whose piercing gaze darted around the room.

“There you are, Gerald,” the countess said, bestowing a smile on her son. “Say hello to the Duchess of Carstairs. And this is Winifred’s daughter, Miss Lily Strathmore. A lovely girl, isn’t she?”

Lily performed the obligatory curtsy. “A pleasure,” she murmured.

The countess turned back to Lord Buckley. “I was just telling the duchess about your travels, and what a faithful correspondent you are. Now that you have arrived, perhaps you would relate that little story about the pompous majordomo. He tells it so well,” she assured the duchess.

Lord Buckley launched into his story, one Lily had already heard more times than she would care to. She glanced back into the crowd, hoping to catch sight of her family. What was Uncle Edward’s news? Had he heard from James?

Dancers scribed patterns on the floor, colorful gowns contrasting with the formal black evening kit of the gentlemen. On the rose-draped dais a string orchestra played, the music rising over the general hubbub of conversation.

A figure entering through the ballroom’s grand entrance sent her hand to her mouth.

James Huntington.

She would never mistake his broad shoulders or sun-streaked brown hair. His eyes met and locked with hers for an instant, and she was transfixed. The lamplight flared and the crowd seemed to surge around her.

Then he looked away. He bent his head and smiled warmly at the woman on his arm, a young lady with cascading brown curls and a winsome smile. She laughed at something he said, reached up to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, then took his arm again, leaning close.

Lily’s corset felt unbearably tight. Her fingers locked around the turquoise pendant as if to tear it from around her neck. He meant nothing to her! Nothing! She gritted her teeth.

“…isn’t that so, Miss Strathmore?” Countess Buckley was smiling expectantly at her.

Lily wrenched her attention back. “Yes, of course,” she guessed, hoping no further response was needed. She had no idea what she had just agreed with.

The countess nodded with satisfaction. “I knew you were a sensible girl. See, Gerald, it is as I told you. Now go along and have a dance. You young people needn’t spend the whole evening hovering about us.”

“On the contrary, Mother. We could imagine no better company.”

The duchess smiled at Countess Buckley. “Your son is a rascal.” She turned her sharp gaze on Lily and her escort. “Go on. We have private matters to discuss.”

Dismissed at last, thank goodness. Lily curtsied and then turned to Lord Buckley. “Please excuse me. I must find my uncle.”

He patted her arm. “Admirable devotion to your family, I must say. Isn’t that Sir Edward there by the refreshment table? I shall take you to him.”

“It’s really not necessary. I can rejoin you shortly.”

“But I insist.” Lord Buckley held out his arm. “I am your escort this evening. I shall see you properly escorted. And then, as Mother suggested, we will have our dance.” He sounded resigned.

Lily’s steps slowed as they approached. There was Uncle Edward, but oh dear, he was speaking with James—the man who despised her. Well, the feeling was entirely mutual.

“Come along,” Lord Buckley said. “You did say you wanted to speak to your uncle, did you not?” He towed her through the press.

A wide smile crossed Uncle Edward’s face as he spotted her. “There you are! At last I can tell you my news. And wonderful luck—see who is here.”

James stood motionless. His hand was folded over his companion’s, his jaw set. His eyes, flaring nearly amber, did not leave her face. Lily’s nerves twitched at his nearness.

“Miss Strathmore.” His voice was cold as he bowed. Rising, his gaze rested for a moment on the pendant lying against her skin. Did his expression falter? No doubt it reminded him of things he would rather forget. When his eyes went to Lord Buckley his features hardened again. The young woman at his side gave him a questioning glance.

Lily forced her voice to remain steady. “Mr. Huntington, have you made Lord Buckley’s acquaintance?”

“I have not.”

“Then allow me to introduce you.”

The two men eyed one another. Lord Buckley seemed very pale and round next to James.

“A pleasure,” James said tersely.

“Mr. Huntington, is it? Any relation to Lord Reginald Huntington? Why, we were speaking with him not more than a quarter-hour ago. Miss Strathmore promised him a dance.”

“Did she?” James raked her with his gaze. “Reggie is my cousin. How splendid of Miss Strathmore to indulge him.”

Lily stiffened. He was despicable. “I think it should make very little difference to you who I dance with.”

“Quite right,” Lord Buckley said. “Well, I am happy to make your acquaintance.”

James turned to his companion. “Let me introduce my sister, Miss Caroline Huntington. Caroline, this is Miss Lily Strathmore.”

“How do you do,” Caroline said.

“Your sister?” Curiously lightheaded, Lily met the woman’s interested gaze. Of course, she could see the resemblance now.

“Your sister, Caroline. A pleasure.”

“Miss Strathmore, I was hoping to meet you. James has told me so much about you.” She glanced quickly at Lord Buckley, as if afraid she might have misspoken.

What had he told her? Lily doubted it was anything good.

“My brother says you are a talented botanical artist. I very much admire Miss Anne Pratt’s illustrations. I have a copy of her
Flowers and their Associations
. Is your work anything like hers?”

“Lily’s work is much finer,” Uncle Edward said.

“Do you have an interest in painting?” Lily asked.

Caroline laughed. “I’m interested in nearly everything, although I have very little time for the arts at the moment.”

Lord Buckley turned and addressed James. “So, friend of the family, are you?”

“Yes.” James glanced at Lily, then back to Lord Buckley.

“And you? It seems I have seen your face somewhere before.”

Oh, the odious man! He knew perfectly well where he had seen Lord Buckley’s likeness. How cruel of him to remind her.

“Huntington is a friend of the family,” Uncle Edward said, clapping James on the shoulder. “A very good friend indeed. He has just returned from Tunisia, and although it seemed our expedition had failed, James has redeemed it. He succeeded in bringing home the previously uncollected flower we had been seeking!”

Lily felt suddenly rooted to the spot. “He what?” James had abandoned them and ridden off into the wilds of Tunisia…to collect the flower? How could it be? Her gaze flew to him, noting the faint lines of weariness about his eyes and mouth. He returned her look, no hint of warmth in his expression.

“He found the valley and collected the plant,” Uncle Edward said. “Brought back two living specimens. It’s extraordinary, makes everything worth the trouble, even that little bump to the head.”

James gave a mirthless grin. “It was the least I could do.”

“You went back to the valley?” He had not abandoned the expedition. He had become it, single-handedly accomplishing what the rest of the party, with their equipment, and sketchbooks, and folding bathtubs, had not.

He had done it—without telling her a thing.

Lily’s anger flared. James had ridden off after that last dreadful scene and let her think he was running away. He could have at least said something! But rather than staying to exchange a few simple explanations he had galloped off.

Uncle Edward glowed with enthusiasm. “You must come to our townhouse, Lily, and paint the specimen. I have nearly finished the final version of the monograph, and your illustrations are vital. Wait until you see it. An entirely new sub-species!”

Lord Buckley frowned. “Surely there are better-qualified men who can draw the thing? Miss Strathmore has other, important, matters to concern her at this time.”

“Such as?” James spoke with such deadly quiet that they all turned.

“Such as assuming her place in society,” Lord Buckley said.

“I suppose expeditions and such are very well for some people, but the
ton
has obligations, and Miss Strathmore is well aware of the fact.”

Uncle Edward blinked at him. “Lily is one of the finest illustrators in the country. She has always drawn my specimens.”

She spoke quickly, ignoring Lord Buckley’s frown. “Of course I’ll come, Uncle. In the next day or two, I promise. And Isabelle is here also? Is she well?”

“It would do her good to see you, my girl. And Mrs. Hodges has been asking after your welfare.”

Lord Buckley cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it’s been a pleasure meeting all of you. But speaking of dances, I believe ours is about to commence. Come along, Miss Strathmore.”

She hung back a moment. “I will visit as soon as I can. Give my love to Isabelle and Richard.”

“I will. And your specimen awaits you, my girl. Extraordinary, I must say.”

Lily let Lord Buckley lead her back into the crowd. She could not help glancing at James. He was watching her, his brown eyes unreadable. It was beyond time to remove herself from his presence. Things could never be easy between them now. A pity—his sister seemed quite likeable.

The floor was terribly over-crowded and Lord Buckley was forced to hold her closer than usual to avoid contact with the other couples. It took nearly the entire dance to traverse to the opposite side of the ballroom.

He released her as soon as the music reached its end and dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. “Thank goodness that is finished. You have several more dances promised, do you not? You are welcome to them, I must say. Would you care to take the air on the terrace?”