Revenge Wears Rubies (5 page)

Exactly as I’d been planning on doing!
An irrational flash of temper at having her scheme preemptively copied almost made her sigh, but then her humor quickly reasserted itself.
I can hardly take offense. After all, it’s his privacy and I, it seems, am the hapless intruder.

She considered a quiet retreat, but the thought of an unsuccessful outcome if he should turn and see her sneaking off like a cowardly dolt decided the matter. Haley was sure that the best course of action would be a quick confession and apology before leaving the man to his watch. She took a few steps closer to avoid raising her voice and alerting the entire party of their awkward location, since the acoustics of the gallery would amplify every word.

“Pardon my intrusion,” she said.

He turned swiftly, his hands raised to strike, and she instinctively took a quick step backward. Like a startled predator, he looked like a man about to spring on her in deadly defense. Haley’s breath caught in her throat at the fleeting sensation of danger. But he relaxed just as suddenly, no doubt accepting that in an evening gown and impractical slippers, she presented no real threat. She blinked, aware that she was staring at the most impossibly handsome man she’d ever seen. Coal black curls framed a face of aristocratic perfection, with chiseled cheekbones and strong features. She couldn’t discern the color of his eyes, but it was a detail that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. The light cast his features in a bewitching relief of glow and shadow, exaggerating the masculine lines and shapes of his face and form. Tall and stern, he emanated a latent power that she couldn’t fathom, but one that affected her heart rate all the same. Even as he opened his hands as if to prove he was unarmed, Haley surmised that this man was never without a means of defense. “If you’re trying to hide, sir, I—”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“No, of course not.” Haley shook her head, unable to stop a smile from erupting at the tension from such a strange standoff. The sounds of the partygoers below, so near at hand, gave her a false sense of courage. “My mistaken impression at discovering you against the wall in a darkened musicians’ gallery. If you’d been lurking behind the drapes, then I might be better justified in the guess.”

“I
wasn’t
hiding.” He crossed his arms defensively, a ghost of a smile tugging at one side of his mouth, and Haley felt a flood of relief at uncovering his good humor.

“
If
one were to hide, I would recommend trying the small library on the second floor.”

“And how would you know of this sanctuary?”

Haley shrugged at the reasonable question in the midst of such a unique encounter. “I was a guest here when we first came to London, while we were searching for a suitable house to let. I have it on good authority that Mr. Bascombe may have forgotten he even has a library.”

“Not a reader then?”

“Books make him sneeze. Something to do with the dust, if I remember it correctly.” She pursed her lips at her own cheekiness, wishing she’d considered the possibility that the stranger and Mr. Bascombe were best friends before she’d spoken. “I’m . . . sure he’s a man of good information, all the same.”

“Naturally.” He stepped forward. “Any man so quick to express his opinions must be well-informed, yes?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. He rewarded her with a wicked grin that spawned a hundred molten butterflies inside her chest and made her wish that she could read the forbidden spin of his thoughts. “
Get away, you fool! You’re in a private conversation with a complete stranger and losing every rational thought in your head like some brainless flirt every time he smiles!
” an inner voice warned her in panic. She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine before taking a symbolic step back. “I meant to merely apologize for . . . intruding.” She bent her knees to offer a somewhat shaky, if shallow, curtsy before straightening again. “I’ll just go back to the party and leave you to your . . . observations.”

“And had you been planning on hiding up here?”

“No. I was—catching my breath.” The lie was ridiculous. No one climbed a flight of back stairs to creep about a dusty gallery to “catch their breath.” “Well, good night.”

She turned and began her retreat, but a feminine curiosity too strong to ignore made her turn and look back. He hadn’t moved, and he made no effort to disguise the fact that he was watching her as she withdrew. She lifted her chin defiantly and asked her question. “You never did say what
you
were doing up here, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

The pause lengthened as she waited for him to offer an excuse, and it was clear by his stance and expression that she wasn’t going to get one so easily. A small twinge of her first impression of him, as a deadly predator not to be trifled with, returned. “And if I asked you directly?”

“I would probably say I was catching my breath.” He smiled again, and this time the heat that bloomed inside of her betrayed itself on her cheeks. Haley put up a gloved hand to suppress the blush and then turned and fled.

There’d been no introductions. It was unthinkable to even consider asking his name or offering hers at such an unorthodox encounter. But what kind of gentleman stood in unlit galleries and made no effort to defend himself? He’d been dressed in evening clothes as any respectable guest would have been, but now she felt a measure of genuine alarm at the idea that he may have been some sort of burglar or criminal lurking in the shadows above them all.
And I directed him to Mr. Bascombe’s private library!

She pushed away the ridiculous notion of courteous burglars in evening coats with a stern internal lecture on the rules of small talk.
The temperature and number of guests—why can I never remember to just mumble something innocuous about how warm the room is or to compliment the party for its popularity?

At the door at the bottom of the staircase, she hesitated. The crush of the guests awaited her, and Haley took a long, slow deep breath to try to recapture an illusion of calm. If the stairwell had been wider, and there wasn’t the imminent threat of that stranger following at any moment, she’d have indulged in lingering there a while longer. But she wasn’t foolish enough to risk one more misstep.

Horrifying enough if anyone notes me coming back through this door and then sees him coming after! They’ll think it was some preplanned tryst!
It was a new thought and one that propelled her quickly through the door.

Luckily, the few guests in the hallway didn’t appear to make any special note of her unorthodox reentry, and Haley made an effort to move without any guilty haste to draw their eyes. To avoid Lady Pringley, she deliberately chose another doorway at the far end of the salon nearer the card tables and demurely began a quiet search for Aunt Alice.

After a few minutes the bobbing yellow feathers at last betrayed Aunt Alice’s whereabouts, and Haley felt a small measure of her anxiety dissipate at the sound of the woman’s familiar chatter. “I don’t think they’ve decided where to settle, Mrs. Bianca. Though my hope is—”

“You cannot let them go north! I know this Mr. Trumble is some sort of industrialist, but what a fate for your dear niece!” Mrs. Bianca’s arch tone was softened by an emotional tremble in her voice. “My young cousin abandoned Town for some factory-filled village in the north and her health was destroyed before she’d seen a single spring in that unfeeling burg.”

Aunt Alice caught her eye as Haley approached and with a subtle gesture, assisted Mrs. Bianca in realizing that the subject of their speculation was now close at hand. “Have you met my niece, Miss Moreland?”

To the lady’s credit, when Mrs. Bianca turned, there was almost no trace of her distress. “I had not the pleasure, till now. How do you do?”

“I am well, thank you, and the pleasure is mine.” Haley extended her hand, liking Mrs. Bianca’s soft features and warm brown eyes. She was only a little younger than Alice and had certainly meant no harm with her dire warnings. Mrs. Bianca wasn’t alone in her disregard for anyone involved with trade. High society reveled in denigrating anyone touched by the industrious northern provinces and the “new” money it generated. Her father’s title and family connections had kept certain doors open to them, but she had no doubt that once she was truly Mrs. Herbert Trumble her social environment would change—no matter where they chose to settle. “It is such a lovely party.”

“Mr. Bascombe has a talent for drawing together the most interesting guests!” Mrs. Bianca flourished her fan with an experienced hand. “One of which, I shall confess, made a particular point in begging me for an introduction to you once I’d achieved your acquaintance. Your aunt was most intrigued to hear of a Mr. Galen Hawke!”

Aunt Alice readily agreed with a merry nod that sent her yellow feathers dancing. “I’d say so! After all, most men seek an introduction after seeing a young lady, don’t they? But this gentleman has determined to meet you without any idea of you at all!” She sighed enviously, a twinkle in her eye giving away her humor. “If only the men of my generation were so forward-thinking!”

Haley shook her head and smiled. “Why not make Mrs. Bianca your conspirator and take the introduction for yourself, Aunt Alice? Since he knows nothing of me, I think you’ll make a very fine Miss Moreland to make his acquaintance. Then you can judge for yourself about Mr. Hawke.”

Both women openly laughed at the notion, but Mrs. Bianca recovered to reply, “I don’t think he’d appreciate the game.” Glancing over their heads, she raised one of her hands as if to signal a servant for another glass of champagne. “And I won’t be the one to deny him the chance to meet such a charming young woman.”

“Do you know him well?” Aunt Alice asked.

“Not well, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Bianca seemed to consider her response before continuing, “But his father, the Earl of Stamford, is on good terms with my family, and my cousin’s brother by marriage is their vicar. And although Mr. Hawke is the second eldest son, the family is very respected in loftier circles than these, so it’s not an inquiry to make light of.”

Haley wasn’t sure Mrs. Bianca’s description of his pedigree had the desired effect the speaker had intended. He sounded like a pompous thing to insist on introductions and cow poor women with distant connections to him into making his wishes manifest. She couldn’t remember any circumstantial ties to an Earl of Stamford that would make his son think to “beg” for an introduction—and frankly, after an already eventful evening in an overcrowded room and above it, Haley didn’t think she wanted to rectify the situation. “Well, if you see him, please convey my regret that you weren’t able to fulfill his request. But I really should find my fiancé and—”

“Leaving so soon?” The deep male voice directly behind her almost made her yelp in surprise, but Haley’s astonishment had more to do with how familiar its timbre was than its location.
He couldn’t be!

“I was . . .” The words seemed to dry and catch in her throat as she turned to face her handsome friend from the gallery.
Green. His eyes are impossibly green. Oh, dear!

“Ah, Mr. Hawke!” Mrs. Bianca stepped in eagerly. “Mrs. Shaw, Miss Moreland, may I introduce Mr. Galen Hawke?”

Aunt Alice managed to pink up like a girl at her first outing as she extended a gloved hand, openly smitten with the handsome Hawke. “You may! What a delight to meet you!”

Haley bit the inside of her cheek to ensure she didn’t follow suit, or give in to the nervous bubble of laughter at being so squarely cornered.
If he mentions the gallery, I’m not sure what I can say to explain myself.

As he gallantly bowed over her aunt’s fingers, his gaze lifted to meet Haley’s, and Haley almost jumped at the sensation of fire and ice down her spine.

He spoke as he straightened to face her. “You’ll forgive my impatience to meet you, Miss Moreland, but I had no faith that you would simply find me.”

Haley gasped, but the reaction was lost on the other women as they laughed and fawned on the striking younger man in their midst.

“What is to forgive? Miss Moreland is highly regarded and it speaks well that you wished to meet her and make her acquaintance, don’t you agree, Mrs. Shaw?” Mrs. Bianca spoke in a breathless rush.

“I shall have to,” Aunt Alice said. “We have so few acquaintances in London.”

Haley’s eyes widened at the mortifying confession, but she knew there was nothing for it now. Instead, she did her best to recover what small remnants of calm she could and disregard how much more potent Mr. Galen Hawke was in full candlelight. “There, you see? An easy introduction, after all, and you’ve apparently been forgiven, so what more could we say?”

“Tell me how you find London, Miss Moreland.”

He spoke as if it were still just the two of them alone in the shadows. He looked only at her as if nothing else mattered—not the setting, nor the dozen people within earshot, or even the two rapt elderly ladies fanning themselves at his elbows.

And without realizing it, Haley felt herself doing the same. “I would rather be home, I think. But you mustn’t tell anyone, Mr. Hawke.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secrets are we keeping?” Herbert came up to the quartet, his brow a bit moist after enjoying a rousing debate on dog breeding techniques with Mr. Melrose. He held out a hand to Mr. Hawke. “Not that I am one for them, sir! I admit, whatever bits of news I manage to remember, I cannot then also remember whom I should tell and whom I shouldn’t. It’s quite a quandary, so I warn everyone to keep me out of the game!” He laughed, and then went on cheerfully. “I am Herbert Trumble. And you are?”

Mrs. Bianca interjected herself with a nervous flutter. “This is Mr. Galen Hawke. I was just introducing him to Mrs. Shaw and Miss Moreland.”

“At your service, Mr. Trumble.” Galen nodded his head, his expression politely neutral as Herbert continued to pump his arm up and down with distracted enthusiasm. “Miss Moreland was telling me how she was finding her time in London.”