Sin and Sensibility (32 page)

“Yes, he’s holding court by the fireside.”

Valentine held his hand out to her. “Then he won’t mind if his wife dances with a charming gentleman?”

“He’d be grateful for it.” With a smile she curled her fingers around his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. “I knew you would be back, dear heart.”

Actually, she was the one who had come looking for him, but now didn’t seem to be the time to point that out. Not when he could take the dance floor with her and let Eleanor Griffin know just how little her attentions and her approval and her body meant to him.

Determined not even to glance in the direction of Eleanor and Tracey, Valentine concentrated on complimenting Lydia about her fine choice of gown, her china blue eyes, the sweep of her low-cut neckline. And he ignored the fact that he hadn’t the slightest desire to touch her, to kiss her, to take her, and that despite his lack of eye contact, every ounce of him was attuned to the woman happily dancing a few feet away.

Sin and Sensibility / 279

“You’re being very charming tonight,” Lydia observed, smiling again. “One might almost think that you missed me.”

“I’m fairly certain I did,” he returned absently, trying to hear whatever nonsense it was that Tracey was telling Eleanor. The damned orchestra was playing too loudly for him to be certain, but it sounded like a bloody was story, just as he’d predicted.

“You know, Franch’s physician recommended that he take the waters at Bath again,” Lydia continued. “And I’ve already suggested that I stay behind in London to keep the house open.”

“That makes sense.”

“I thought so. Which means that I’ll be there all by myself for at least a fortnight. And you know how I hate sleeping alone.”

“That’s not what you tell your husband.”

Her brow furrowed. “Of course not. Do you expect me to encourage his attentions? I’d much rather have yours.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Hiding a scowl, he turned Lydia in a sharper circle to keep the other couple in earshot.

“Valentine, don’t think you can make me jealous. As a matter of fact, Lord Fowler offered to hire Lawrence to paint my portrait, if only I’d give him one of my gloves as a token of affection.”

He looked down at her upturned face. “Good God.

Fowler’s older than your husband.”

“And not nearly as well heeled. I turned him down, obviously. But you see, you are not my only admirer.”

“I don’t admire you, Lydia. I use you. You’re convenient and uncomplicated.”

She blinked. “So did you used to be.”

280 / Suzanne Enoch

“No. I’m quite complicated. It’s just that I usually try to ignore that fact. Lately, though, it’s been giving me a bit of trouble.”

“Valentine, are you going to sleep with me tonight or not?” she whispered, anger and frustration touching her pretty eyes.

“No, I’m not.” Her lack of concern for him matched his for her. A few weeks ago it wouldn’t have mattered—or rather, it would have pleased him. Now, though, a virginal chit had told him some confidences and had trusted him enough to allow him to be her first, and his damned world had tilted on its axis.

“I could be very angry with you.”

“You’ve already cursed me, Lydia. I haven’t forgotten that, even if you have. I told you, I use you. And tonight I choose not to do so. Be grateful.”

She started to pull back from him, but he tightened his grip on her hand and around her waist. “Let go,” she hissed.

“Let’s not make a scene, shall we?” he returned. “The dance is nearly over. You may stomp away after that.”

“I wish that one day you would get precisely what you deserve.”

Finally he glanced over at Eleanor, to see her chuckling at something Tracey had said. Her eyes danced, the flash of her smile warmer than sunlight. Damn it, this was killing him, and he didn’t even know why. “I think your wish may already be coming true,” he told Lydia. “And you may not believe me, but I’m probably doing you a favor by not having you around me when it does.”

“It hardly seems like you to be selfless.”

“Odd, isn’t it?”

Sin and Sensibility / 281

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Stephen Cobb-Harding leaned against the wall beside the Halfax conservatory.

“What’s interesting, beside Deverill looking like he’s turning away a fair bit of tail for no good reason?” Andrew Perline stopped his careful, long-distance examina-tion of Miss Deborah Grayling’s bosom long enough to cast another glance at the dance floor.

“Keep your damned voice down, Perline, and pay attention. Deverill’s practically been attached to Lady Eleanor’s shadow for weeks, and now she won’t even look at him.

And he’s turned away both Charlemagne Griffin and Melbourne. Something’s afoot.”

“Maybe they’ve all tired of one another,” Perline suggested.

“Precisely.”

“So what good does that do you? Deverill’s still got your papers. And you’ve got a fortnight remaining before you have to start calling Paris home.”

“Thank you so much for reminding me, and keep your bloody voice down. That’s not what I’m talking about.

Not precisely, at any rate.”

“Then what—”

“If there’s a wedge between Deverill and Melbourne, I have been handed an opportunity to tell my side of the story to His Grace.” He gazed at pretty Eleanor for a long moment. “And I’d wager that he hasn’t heard any other side, so my task should be simple.”

“You don’t think he’ll let you marry his sister.”

“By the time I’m finished with my tale, he’ll be begging me to take her. And the Griffins certainly have enough money for me to pay off my damned papers. Hell, 282 / Suzanne Enoch

if they’re feuding with Deverill, I might not even have to ask twice.”

“Well, whatever you’re planning, if it’s got something to do with taking Deverill down a peg or two, I’m all for it. After he practically wagered me into oblivion he actually made me ask him for the blunt to pay for the port I’d already drunk. In front of Prinny, yet.”

“Aye,” their third companion agreed. Mr. Peter Burnsey sipped a glass of whiskey. “He may have your papers, but you two aren’t the only one whose prospects he’s ruined.

If he’d left me any blunt I’d pay to hand him and the mighty Griffins a bit of a bruising.”

“If tomorrow goes as I plan, we’ll all have the chance.”

Stephen sent a last look in Deverill’s direction, then turned his attention to Melbourne. The marquis might have delayed his marriage plans by his interference at Belmont’s, but he hadn’t destroyed them. Not when Stephen had a verifiable and substantiated story to tell the duke.

And not when he had a good description of what Lady Eleanor’s bare bosom looked like, and a proposal to keep anyone else from hearing about her indiscretions.

No, tonight it looked as though his luck was finally turning.

Chapter 18

“I
’m pleased you’ve returned to London as well, Lord John,” Eleanor said, smiling as they strolled toward the refreshment table. “You’ve certainly brightened up the evening.”

“I believe you are tonight’s brightest constellation,”

John Tracey returned with a warm grin of his own. “I’m merely an admiring astronomer.”

With a chuckle, Eleanor accepted the glass of punch he procured for her. Thank goodness for John Tracey.

When she’d set eyes on Deverill earlier, her heart had stopped. It was dreadful, not knowing whether she wanted to throttle him or kiss him—and being determined not to do the latter.

And then he’d made it worse when he’d decided to dance with that awful Lady Franch. Everyone knew they’d been lovers, and apparently that hadn’t changed. He’d made no promises to her, but it still…hurt her that her defining moment had been nothing to him except a 283

284 / Suzanne Enoch

way to pass an evening—though with the sensation that ripped into her chest, “hurt” seemed completely inadequate to describe it.

“Tracey.”

At the sound of Deverill’s voice she turned, her breath catching. Valentine stood there, his attention on Earl Heflin’s brother. As she watched, he held out his hand.

“Deverill.” Tracey shook it.

“I wanted to welcome you back to London,” the marquis continued, releasing the grip first. “How’s Wellington faring without you?”

John chuckled. “I shudder to think. I’m only on leave for a few weeks, though. I’m due to return to the Peninsula in August.”

“Hopefully that won’t be enough time for the French to realize you’re not there.” Deverill finally turned in Eleanor’s direction. “I wondered if I might intrude for a moment. Lady Eleanor’s planning a surprise for her brother, and I had a suggestion about it.”

Tracey inclined his head. “Of course. I hadn’t meant to monopolize you, my lady.”

Eleanor sniffed. “I would have told you if I found your companionship unwelcome, Lord John.”
Ha
. She’d learned a few things about speaking her mind, and about enjoying her freedom, anyway. “Might I trouble you to find me a glass of Madeira?”

The major saluted. “At your command. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Eleanor looked back at Valentine. “Don’t tell me that
you’re
chasing men away from me now.”

“He’s very…shiny, isn’t he?”

“Stop it. What do you want?”

Sin and Sensibility / 285

“A word with you.”

“Then speak.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Not here. On the balcony, perhaps?”

“No.”

“In the hallway, then.”

“No.”

“Eleanor, I need to speak with you in private.” He held her gaze for a moment, then heaved a deep breath. “Look at it this way: If you feel the need to pummel me, in private you can do it without fear of scandal.”

“My, you do make it sound tempting,” she said scath-ingly. “And that’s a lovely bruise on your cheekbone.

Who do I have to thank for that?”

“Eleanor, please.”

She didn’t think she’d ever heard him use the word before—not so directly, anyway. He was a master manip-ulator, of course, but she knew that. The problem was, she wanted to see him in private, to have him pay attention only to her. As long as she was aware of that weakness, she supposed, no harm could come of it.

“Very well. But only for a moment.”

He inclined his head. “And the location?”

“I’ll join you on the balcony in five minutes.”

With a stiff bow he turned and walked away. Immediately she wished that she’d refused his request, but she didn’t have time to fret about it. As soon as he walked out of her sight, a horde of young men mobbed her, looking for an open spot someone might have accidentally left on her dance card, or wanting to compliment her on her gown, or her hair, or the fine weather she was apparently responsible for providing.

She hadn’t realized that Valentine’s presence kept men 286 / Suzanne Enoch

at bay as effectively as her brothers’ did. It wasn’t because he warned them away from her; she knew enough about him to realize that. No, it was because of who he was, she decided, and the way he had of commanding people’s attention without appearing to make an effort to do any such thing. Charisma, Melbourne had called it once. Oh, yes, Valentine Corbett had that in spades.

Given a choice between being fawned over by men who didn’t know anything about her but her family name and the amount of her fortune, or a private meeting with the man to whom she’d given her virginity, she actually preferred Valentine. She kept her eyes on the clock. As soon as five minutes had ticked by, she made her excuses, turned away all offers of escort, and strolled toward the balcony for a breath of fresh air.

Chilly as the evening was, no one else had left the ballroom to take advantage of the relative privacy. In fact, she appeared to be quite alone. Oh, that was splendid.

He’d found something more entertaining with which to occupy himself. She turned back to the doorway.

“Going so soon?”

Valentine emerged from the shadows at the far end of the vine-tangled balcony. Eleanor made her breathing stay normal, though she couldn’t control the fast patter of her heart. Well, he wasn’t going to get close enough to detect that, anyway.

“I’m here,” she stated. “What do you want?”

“I want to apologize.”

“Apo—You don’t even know why I’m angry with you.”

His sensuous lips twitched. “No, I don’t, but that hardly seems the point. I’ve made you angry, and I didn’t mean to. And I certainly didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.”

Sin and Sensibility / 287

Eleanor scowled. “How do you know I cried?”

Valentine touched the bruise on his cheekbone. “Charlemagne told me.”

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear.” So
that
was where Shay had driven off to last night. “I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“I don’t think you needed to. Do you accept?”

“Accept?”

“My apology.”

“You’re not supposed to ask that.”

He took a half step forward. “I don’t do this well, Eleanor. I just wanted to know if we’re still friends.”

She tilted her head, trying to figure out whether he was sincere, or whether he was playing another game. Or whether he even knew what he was doing. “Why do you care if we’re friends? You’ve…” Eleanor looked about, lowering her voice just in case someone lurked near the balcony door. “You’ve bedded me, so move along. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“Are you jealous?” he returned, taking another step closer. “I thought that night was about your moment of freedom, your adven—”

“I don’t want a
moment
of freedom any longer,” she snapped before she could stop herself. Horrified, she turned her back, facing the railing and the garden below.

Damnation. All she’d ever meant to tell him was that he would be happier if he could make himself care about someone or something besides his own well-being. She hadn’t wanted to confess her continued yearnings to him, for heaven’s sake.

“Oh.”

“That doesn’t mean I expect you to—”

Valentine grabbed her shoulder, spinning her back to 288 / Suzanne Enoch

face him. Before she could utter a gasp, he lowered his mouth to hers. Sensation and yearning flooded through her. Eleanor swept her arms around his shoulders, pulling him hard against her, drinking in his heat, relishing the touch of his mouth on hers.