Let Love Find You (15 page)

A few twirls into the dance, he bent his head forward to say in a husky tone, “You smell divine.”

She blinked. That was definitely not a proper compliment. But he was young. Perhaps he didn’t know any better.

“I think you must have been tardy in attending some of your etiquette classes,” she scolded lightly.

He laughed. “It’s just you, sweet Amanda. You quite make me forget m’self.”

His words thrilled her and brought forth a pretty blush. But she made an effort to steer the conversation to acceptable
subjects—and find out more about him. “I’ve heard this is your first time to London. Are you just back from the Continent? Or—too busy at home to venture forth?”

She’d almost said
just out of the schoolroom
! Goodness, he rattled her so much she wasn’t thinking straight. That would have embarrassed both of them. She really hoped he wasn’t eighteen. He didn’t look it. He could have been hiding himself at one of the universities young lords favored for higher learning.

“Dying of curiosity about me, are you?”

Of course she was, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit it. “University then?”

He laughed at her evasion. “Does it matter where I’ve been? All that matters is I’m here now—with you.”

There was that bubbly feeling again. Where had these exciting men been two years ago? She supposed it was all right if he wanted to remain mysterious for now.
Someone
would ferret out more information about him and get it on the gossip mill. That was inevitable.

A few moments later he said, “This dance will end soon. I must tell you, I already can’t wait until we meet again.”

She smiled. “I’m sure we will. It’s more’n likely you will receive the same invitations as I.”

“I was thinking of something less social.”

He wanted to court her! “I’m staying with my aunt Julie St. John while in town.” She gave him the address on Arlington Street. “You are welcome to call.”

He made a sound of impatience. “I don’t want to get to know your relatives, dear girl, I want to get to know
you
better.”

She frowned, not understanding. “Privacy before an engagement is simply not allowed, and what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

“You’re going to make me steal a kiss right here on the floor, aren’t you?”

She gasped and drew back from him.

He chuckled. “Does no one ever tease you? A walk in the park would be nice. Bring your maid along as a chaperone, of course.”

D
EVIN KNEW THAT DARING
Amanda to tackle riding lessons had been a long shot. A man would accept the challenge, a woman would find numerous excuses to decline it. Obviously Lady Ophelia hadn’t talked the girl around to letting him help her with riding lessons
or
finding her other candidates for marriage. She didn’t even know he’d agreed to do Ophelia this favor after all. Apparently, it
was
going to have to be other candidates for the girl.

What had started out as a lark for Devin was definitely beginning to feel like a bloody job—well, at least in Amanda’s case. The trouble was, she had too many admirers. He supposed he ought to simply ask her which ones
she
favored, aside from Goswick, to narrow down that list, but he didn’t think she’d tell him. Still crackling with ire over what she’d overheard him saying to her sister-in-law, it was a wonder she’d even danced with him, much less talked to him tonight. If
he
didn’t feel the thrill of a challenge now, he’d send a note round to Ophelia that Amanda really was a lost cause and let it go at that.

That
was
still a possibility. Two Seasons wasted, the third under way. Was she too particular? Looking for something specific in a man that she hadn’t yet found? It could simply be a matter of titles, her father having such a lofty one. Good God, she wasn’t looking for another duke, was she?

A ball was absolutely not the place to further his investigation of Amanda’s flock of beaus, nor which gentlemen might fit well with Blythe. Two-thirds of the former Devin had already met and spoken with, but Amanda had danced with quite a few young men tonight that he was seeing for the first time. Finding those chaps off the dance floor while Blythe was on it, which was the only time she wasn’t at his side, was proving quite difficult.

He gave it another shot and checked the refreshment table, but only a few couples were standing near it. He glanced out in the hall. Empty. He headed for the balcony. It was too cold for the doors to be kept wide-open, but he’d seen people stepping out there to briefly cool off from their exertions on the dance floor. Well, bloody hell, the balcony was empty, too. Was everyone dancing but him?

“I have a feeling you’re waiting for me.”

Devin swung around to find Jacinda Brown sauntering toward him. He’d seen her across the room earlier but hadn’t approached her. The girl was much too forward for his tastes. He didn’t mind a dalliance now and then, but he drew the line at pursuing married women and innocents. If he’d learned anything from his acquaintance with Hilary, it was that innocents read more into simple friendship than he could offer.

“Actually, I’d hoped for a moment alone,” he replied.

She didn’t take the hint and stopped much too close to him.
“I’ve been trying to get my mum to hire Cupid to help me this Season.” She gave him a sultry look.

When she went straight for what she wanted? Devin felt like laughing. “You’re probably the very last chit here who would need help.”

She blushed prettily, taking that as a compliment. “But I don’t want to wait until the end of the Season to find my man. Besides, it would be fun to work with you. Don’t you think so?”

He was trying not to hurt her feelings with his bluntness, but he had no time for silly flirtations like this. “What I do isn’t fun. Now if you’ll excu—”

“I’m cold!” She even shivered.

“Then go back inside.”

“But you could warm me. Just for a moment.”

She actually wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body close to his. He was surprised enough by her audacity that he didn’t react as quickly as he should have. Which was why Mabel Collicott looked scandalized when she took that moment to close the balcony doors against the draft and saw them standing there in what appeared to be a lovers’ embrace.

But before the old dame could voice her errant conclusions, Devin called out, “Miss Collicott, what perfect timing!” He dragged Jacinda to Mabel’s side. “Jacinda confessed she’s looking to hire a matchmaker for the Season. I was about to recommend you for the job when she took a chill. I’ll leave her in your good hands.”

Devin escaped, but not before he heard Mabel say, “Has that boy actually come to his senses? I’ll speak to your mother, gel. I know just . . .”

He didn’t hear any more, didn’t need to. Jacinda’s ploy had
just backfired on her, and hopefully,
that
would end her pursuit of him. Relieved, he returned to the edge of the crowd where Blythe expected to find him, and just in time, too. Lord Carlton Webb returned her to Devin’s side with a formal nod. But Blythe sighed as the young man moved off.

Devin glanced down at her. “What? Step on your feet, did he?” he teased.

“No. All he did was grouse about Viscount Altone the entire dance. While I wouldn’t have minded—Lord Robert is exceedingly handsome, after all—Lord Carlton had nothing good to say about him.”

Devin raised a brow, but Blythe’s next partner arrived and whisked her away. He did spot Carlton still weaving his way through the crowd and followed him, hoping he wasn’t heading toward
his
next dance partner. He wasn’t. He’d headed straight for the refreshments to grab a glass of champagne. Devin joined him and struck up a conversation.

The other two fellows Devin had talked to tonight had revealed nothing about themselves and, like Carlton Webb apparently, had only been interested in gossiping about Robert Brigston. This was not surprising. The chap was the current favorite
on-dit
, though the gossip had gone from mere curiosity prior to tonight to something entirely different now.

Jealousy and resentment were apparently running rampant in the room. Brigston was too handsome not to have the young debutantes tittering about him, but that was not why he was infuriating so many of the young gentlemen tonight. They were all here looking for wives this Season, but the new rumor circulating about the young viscount was that he wasn’t actually interested in matrimony and had merely come to London to have some fun. That was all well and good, but Devin would
have to agree that a ball for debutantes wasn’t the right place for a young man to attempt to have fun. He ought to find out if this new gossip about Brigston was true, especially since he’d seen Amanda dancing with the chap.

But that was not why he followed Carlton. He actually hoped Webb had complained enough to Blythe that he was ready to converse about a new subject—himself. Devin should have known better.

“Never heard anything so preposterous,” Carlton said right off. “Brigston’s here to win Lady Amanda when he doesn’t even want her!”

“Lord Robert Brigston?” Devin clarified.

“Where have you been, old chap? Of course Brigston, the bloody man of the hour.”

Devin kept his expression neutral. “What gave you the impression he doesn’t want to marry?”

“Ain’t a guess. He told me himself!”

“Tonight?”

“’Course tonight. Never clapped eyes on him before and hope to never again. And I
hope
Lady Amanda ain’t fooled, but she probably will be. He’s turned all the ladies’ heads, as handsome as he is. And if he don’t want to get married, what’s he doing charming them all, eh?”

Devin almost laughed. “Let me hazard a guess, perhaps because he
is
charming?”

Carlton snorted. “If you ask me, he just wants to play the rake, racking up conquests, but his father nipped that in the bud by ordering him to win Norford’s daughter.”

Now that wasn’t amusing at all. “Groundless speculation, Webb, that you should keep to yourself.”

Carlton huffed and moved away. Devin didn’t know what
to think now about the man of the hour. Probably half the men there would rather remain bachelors for a while, simply have some fun before settling down, but had joined the marriage mart at their parents’ behest. Dutiful sons, they’d do as told whether they liked it or not. Was Brigston only pretending to be dutiful? He hadn’t been told to marry, he’d been told to marry specifically one woman, Amanda Locke. If he subtly sabotaged his own chances with her, then he could honestly tell his father he’d failed and would win a reprieve from marriage.

That was if Webb could be believed, but the young man had been too worked up about it,
and
had tried to spread mere speculation, so really, everything he’d said had to be taken with a grain of salt. Especially since he was so obviously green with jealousy because he was sure he no longer stood a chance with Amanda, now that Brigston was on the scene. Devin wouldn’t even be surprised if the new gossip was solely Carlton’s spiteful doing.

On his way back to the edge of the dance floor where he would await Blythe, Devin caught sight of the man everyone was talking about—blond hair trimmed short, blue eyes, casually slouched posture. He stood alone watching the dancers, a glass of champagne in hand, a pensive look on his face. Perhaps he was foxed. That might explain some of the new gossip.

Devin stopped next to the young man, towering over him quite a bit. He didn’t say anything. He waited to see if Lord Robert would.

“A nice crop of lovelies to choose from, eh?” Robert Brigston said nonchalantly, casting a nod at the couples dancing past them. “Even your friend is quite a looker. Private stock?”

“Private stock?”

“Yours?” Robert said.

“Would you like to step outside?”

The young lord laughed, but it actually had an exaggerated sound to it. “Private stock it is! No need to get in a snit over it.”

Devin, knowing the young lord was deliberately trying to provoke him, said in a thoughtful tone, “You know, if you really don’t want to marry yet, behaving in a manner that blackens your name isn’t the way to go about it. Why don’t you just be honest with your father?”

Robert sighed. “I was. Didn’t do any good. Good God, man, I’m barely nineteen. Why the devil would I want to be leg-shackled? I’d never be faithful to a wife, it’s too bloody soon. I’d just make her as miserable as I am.”

“Which is a very good reason not to marry. But we’re not just talking about any wife, are we?”

“No,” Robert said bitterly. “I was supposed to have a good taste of life first. My father was in complete agreement with that, which makes this a double blow. Now he’s obsessed and has been from the moment he found out the Duke of Norford’s daughter was still on the marriage mart. Wants her in the family no matter what.”

“What if you fall in love with another woman?”

Robert rolled his eyes. “I think I’m in love with every pretty chit that smiles at me. What the deuce do I know about love?”