To Tempt an Earl (4 page)

"I agree wholeheartedly." Graham nodded.

"I thought you might." Clairmont grinned.

"Yes, well, I'd best be going. I will see you
at the ball."

"Until the ball," echoed Clairmont.

Graham took his leave, his boots making short
work of the stairs that led from the duke's resident to his
awaiting carriage. Once inside, he released a pent-up breath.

Though the envy still stirred slightly, he
felt a pinch of pity for his good friend. If his ward, Bethanny,
was as beautiful as he'd said, then he had good reason to worry.
But in Graham's experience, the father, or in his case, guardian,
usually looked at the girl with a jaded view. While it was possible
she was as perfect as Clairmont thought, it was very unlikely.

However, it mattered not. Because it wouldn't
change his resolution to watch out for her this season. And who
knew? Perhaps while watching out for her, he'd come across his
future countess. It was entirely possible. So with a slight shrug,
Graham glanced out across the flurry of passing buildings as he
made his way back to his residence. An errant thought tickled his
mind before dismissing it.

He hoped he recognized Bethanny. He wouldn't
be much help unless he knew which debutant to keep an eye on. But,
as soon as the thought passed through his mind, he dismissed it.
After all, it was
her
ball. He'd have to be bloody blind to
miss her.

Now that the
whirlwind
of activity had ebbed slightly, her eyes scanned
the crowd, searching for his face. Hundreds of London's most elite
were gathered in the duke's grand ballroom, but, of course, the one
she was searching for was absent. He was late. Very late. If he
were coming at all. But her heart whispered assurances that he
would be there. After all, he had promised the duke.

And when one promised something to a duke,
they followed through. Didn't they?

With a hopeful heart, she cast a final glance
about the room then sighed heavily when her hope was met with
defeat.

"Are you well, dear?" Carlotta, Duchess of
Clairmont asked, her voice soft and kind, concern lacing the
tone.

"Yes, I am. Simply… overwhelmed," Bethanny
answered, and it was the truth.

Just simply not the
whole
truth.

"It is quite the crush." Carlotta gazed about
the room, her eyes slightly wide.

Crush
was an understatement. Of all
the invitations they had sent out, not one had been refused. In
fact, she was quite certain there were people here that most had
only heard about, never actually seen.

Rumors, or ghosts of the
ton
.

Like the Viscount Neville.

It was well known among the
ton
that
he had gone into seclusion after the death of his betrothed.
Although the rumors abounded, no one seemed to know the full story.
The speculation ranged from murder to a quick demise brought on by
a broken heart in finding him with another woman.

Honestly, Bethanny hadn't paid much mind to
the gossip surrounding him. But he was far more handsome than she'd
anticipated. In a word, he was dark. Jet-black hair, olive skin,
and, from this distance, even dark eyes shaded by severe
eyebrows.

And a gaze that was met by her own. He lifted
a dark brow as if questioning her.

Quickly, Bethanny glanced away. She was
curious for heaven's sake, not
interested.

After a moment she dared a glance back,
curiosity overwhelming her good sense. Thankfully, he had turned
his attention to Lord Benbrooke.

Indeed, everyone was in attendance save the
one she wanted.

Suppressing the urge to sigh, she felt
Carlotta grasp her hand lightly. "There is no reason to be anxious.
You're a huge success," she whispered encouragingly.

Bethanny offered her a confident smile.

But her heart was anything but.

"I think I need some air," Bethanny spoke
after a moment. Perhaps if she simply cleared her head, she'd be
able to be more circumspect.

Carlotta glanced to her, her expression
curious and distrusting.

"I'm in my own home. Honestly, I'm not going
to wait in a darkened corner for some rake to assault me. I'll go
around to the part of the house closed off from guests. I'll be
perfectly safe," Bethanny assured.

Carlotta's eyes narrowed for a moment. "I'll
go with you—"

"No, it will seem far less conspicuous if I'm
alone. If you're with me…" Bethanny let her words drift. "Forgive
my interruption," she added belatedly, abashed at her rudeness.
After all, Carlotta
was
a duchess, and one did
not
interrupt someone of such high rank.

"I understand. " Carlotta regarded her then
nodded. "I understand, but you must not be gone long."

"I'll only be gone a short time. I promise. I
just… I just need a moment to myself." Without giving Carlotta a
chance to change her mind, she spun on her slippers and walked
away.

Bethanny felt Carlotta's gaze on her back as
she meandered her way through the crush. She didn't want to appear
in a hurry; she'd only draw attention. Slowly, she made her way to
the edge of the ballroom, having only stopped for conversation
twice. Each time it had been a gentleman, the wrong gentleman. Of
course, it would be impossible for the
right
gentleman to
speak to her, him being absent and all. Thankfully, all that had
been needed was short polite conversation and a winning smile, and
she'd been on her way.

Quietly, she walked down the hall, passing a
few ladies and offering them a humble smile as they nodded in her
direction. She placed her hand on the cool knob of the door to the
powder room and cautiously glanced behind her. The women were just
rounding the corner… and were out of sight. Quickly, she lifted her
skirts and darted down the hall, passing three doors, till she came
to the one she was looking for. Silently, she turned the knob and
entered one of their many sitting rooms; however, this particular
room had an adjoining door to another sitting room, which opened to
a separate hall. After making her way through both rooms and into
the secluded hall, she exhaled a deep sigh.

It wasn't to be this way.

It was her debut; it was
her
night. It
was to be perfect, and it… was not. Chiding herself for being so
selfish, she'd rather focused on remembering her guardian's pride
as she'd been announced. The duke and duchess had beamed, and the
crowded ballroom had hushed as her moment arrived. Every eye had
been on her, every gaze but the very one she was anticipating the
most.

Irritated that she was back where she'd
started, she strode down the hall, past the duke's study and out to
a small balcony that few knew existed. The cool night air felt
refreshing on her skin, prickling it with a chill that was welcome
after being confined in the crush earlier. The night was full dark,
the only light a half-moon arched in the sky, offering silver
beams. Her skirts whispered against the marbled floor as she made
her way to the rail. Resting her hands upon the cool stone, she
gazed out into the garden, seeing nothing, but giving her mind
freedom to wander. As a moment passed, her eyes adjusted to the
darkness, and the world began to shimmer.

"I wasn't aware that this part of the house
was open to the guests." A rich masculine voice startled her from
her musing.

"Pardon?" Bethanny immediately stood,
straightened her posture, and felt the wild gallop of her
heart.

This couldn't be good.

She was alone, with a stranger, on a secluded
balcony.

The duke was going to murder her.

If she made it out without being ruined.

Dear Lord.

"It is not. What, might I ask, are you doing
here?" she asked in her firmest tone.

"I only just arrived, and, after the evening
I've had, found I needed a moment to regain my composure. I'm a
friend of the duke and am quite certain I'm allowed on his private
balcony. What about you?" he asked, a slightly teasing tone to his
voice.

Bethanny narrowed her eyes. They had adjusted
to the dim light, and as recognition dawned, her heart hammered in
her chest.

Graham.

"I'm quite certain I'm permitted to be here
as well," she responded, not quite knowing what to say. Did he
recognize her? Was he simply teasing because he already had figured
out who she was?

"Ah, a friend of the duchess then?" he asked
lightly as he made his way toward her.

He definitely did not recognize her.

However, she couldn't determine if this was a
bad thing or a good one. And it
was
rather dark. After a
moment's deliberating, she decided to play along.

What could it hurt?

"You could say that." She shrugged. Then,
feeling mischievous, she lowered her gaze and offered her most
flirtations smile, hoping his eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he
could perhaps notice it.

At least she
hoped
it was
flirtatious.

After a moment, she risked a glance up to his
shadowed features; a playful grin was tipping his lips and showed
off the fairest hint of those beloved dimples she so fondly
remembered.

She sighed… inwardly, of course.

"It's quite a nice view, peaceful, if I may
say so." He came to stand beside her.

He was taller than she remembered, and
possibly broader as well, but she couldn't be sure with the faint
light.

"Exactly why I came to this very place."

"Is it quite the crush inside then?" he
asked. There was a slight lilt to his voice, not quite a brogue,
but not the crisp English she was accustomed to hearing. He must
spend quite a bit of time at his estate in Edinburgh to have taken
on the faint accent.

She would have to thank Lady Southridge later
for all the helpful information regarding her brother.

"Crush would be an understatement," she
replied too quickly, her tone a bit wry.

"Not a fan of the crowds?" he asked, his tone
light. "Or were there far too many gentlemen seeking the attentions
of so beautiful a lady?"

Even in the darkness, his gaze was powerful,
spearing right through her causing a myriad of strange sensations
to swirl around in her belly.

"Or perhaps I simply wanted a moment to
myself." she answered, her tone far more breathless than she would
have liked.

"Perhaps." He shrugged.

"You don't believe me." She narrowed her
eyes.

"No," he replied, unfazed.

"Why ever not?" Bethanny asked, turning to
face him fully.

"In my experience, ladies do not visit
deserted balconies unless they wish to be found."

Slightly shaking her head, Bethanny replied,
"Which is exactly why I choose to use the private balcony? The one
closed off from the party?" she asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Well…"

"I thought not." She shrugged her shoulder, a
smile teasing her lips at besting him.

"You're a cheeky one," he replied, his tone
holding a hint of awe.

"I prefer intelligent."

"Yes, I believe you would." He nodded, his
grin widening.

"That sounded dangerously like an insult, my
lord," she teased.

"No, no insult… simply… delayed respect."

"Respect?" Bethanny asked with a dubious
tone.

"Indeed. Certainly a lovely lady such as
yourself has to be aware that social functions can be quite…
tedious."

"I'm sure the duke will be thrilled you think
so highly of his party," she replied, a smile tugging at her
lips.

"You mistake my meaning. People can be
tedious. Petty even. It's simply… refreshing to speak with a woman
who doesn't fall into those categories."

"I do believe that was a compliment."

"It was, and you should take it as such."

"Why, thank you." Bethanny stepped back and
performed a deep curtsey, as if being presented at court.

"And a sense of humor to boot. I might have
to actually find out your name." Graham chuckled, his dimples in
full view.

"And ruin the mystery? I think not." Bethanny
rose from her curtsey, her heart pounding.

"I do love a good mystery."

"Avid reader?" Bethanny asked.

"Yes… but that's not what I was referring
to."

His posture changed, as did his expression,
and at once, Bethanny's heart took flight because some instinct,
some feminine awareness told her with all certainty that he was no
longer simply teasing an innocent.

He was pursuing.

"Oh?" Her tone was breathless to her own
ears, and she silently scolded herself for the betrayal of
weakness.

"So,
mysterious miss
of the duke's
balcony…" he teased, offering her a dramatic nickname.

"Is that the best you can come up with?
Mysterious miss of the duke's balcony?" she asked, a laugh escaping
her restraint.

"I thought it was quite clever myself."
Graham paused his pursuit, his smile widening.

"It sounds like a Gothic novel."

"You know, you're quite right. I could have a
future there if I ever so desire."

"Writing?"

"Gad, no. Offering my service for creating
titles."

"I'm not sure that's a lucrative
endeavor."

"Perhaps." He shrugged and took another step
forward. "But you must admit, you'd be curious hearing that title.
I know my curiosity is quite piqued."

Bethanny took a deep breath, as deep as her
corset allowed, and drew up all her courage. "Perhaps. I might be
curious… but there would have to be something more than a catchy
title, my lord." She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but it
was a game she had dreamed of playing since she'd first seen Lord
Graham.

The memory of him trading banter with Berty
over dinner one night flashed to her memory. Most lords wouldn't
give a little girl the time of day, yet Lord Graham had traded wit
with her, enjoying himself even. Bethanny had been envious of her
little sister's ability to bait him. She'd sworn that someday she'd
have her turn.