Chapter 6
Three Nights Later
Diana glanced around the crowded ballroom at Idlewild from behind her glass as she lifted it to her lips…and splashed champagne up her nose.
Rubbing at her nose to brush the bubbles away, she rolled her eyes at herself. What an utter ninny!
But that’s what she deserved, she supposed, for not paying closer attention to what she was doing tonight. How could she, given the necessity to split her attention? Half of it focused on discouraging Major Paxton’s attentions, the other half on keeping an eye on every guest announced upon arrival, to quickly discern how much they might know about the events of the last few weeks before Garrett went missing.
The former was easier than the latter. She was no longer under any duty as hostess to entertain the major, now that she’d danced an obligatory waltz with him to appease the general and could therefore ignore him for the rest of the party. It also helped that she had surrounded herself for most of the evening with groups of friends to serve as defensive lines to keep the enemy from advancing unseen.
Surreptitiously learning about Garrett, however, was proving much more difficult.
If Carlisle was correct and Garrett hadn’t been kidnapped, then he was simply missing. So she’d been eavesdropping all night on various conversations held by anyone who seemed as if they might mention her brother. She’d occasionally even boldly asked outright if they’d recently seen him, using his absence tonight as a way to broach the topic without raising suspicions and catch word of his whereabouts. Any word. But so far…nothing. She knew as little now about what had happened to him as she had a fortnight ago. All she had to show for her efforts was mounting frustration and distraction.
Given that, she set down her champagne flute before she accidentally drowned herself.
“There you are!” Her friend Julia Warner sidled up to her. “Grand party, Diana.” A sly smile brightened her face. “And what a coincidence that all the most eligible gentlemen in England are here.”
Of course they were, she thought with a grimace. Because the general had ensured it.
She slid her gaze around the crowded ballroom. The party was supposed to have been in honor of the army regiments who had recently engaged in fighting with Burma to protect British interests in northern India, to show them that the full confidence of the empire was behind them. Which meant that Idlewild was filled with handsome young officers in their uniforms, several gentlemen who worked for the War Office or the Court of St James’s, and a smattering of MPs and peers. Everyone was here to show their patriotism and unreserved support for England’s soldiers.
And to be given a subtle reminder by the general that his unmarried daughter still needed a husband.
Even though she was only in her third London season, at twenty-three, she wasn’t exactly young anymore. Certainly a good deal of the gossip that was going on behind flitting fans this evening involved talk of how she was already on the shelf.
She drew a deep breath and remembered the mantra her mother had repeated in times of tension to keep from being overwhelmed. “One disaster at a time,” she murmured and searched the crowd once more, wondering if anyone else would be able to give her information about Garrett.
“Pardon?”
She forced a smile and pretended to repeat, slightly louder, “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
“Very much so. Lots of partners, for once. And speaking of dance partners—”
“I didn’t know we were.”
“I’ve just taken a turn about the room.” Julia gestured in a circle with her fan and added conspiratorially, “Major Paxton is nowhere to be seen.”
Thanks goodness. One less worry tonight. Now she could focus her attention on—
Christopher Carlisle. Her heart stuttered as she spied him across the room.
On second thought… She snatched up her glass of champagne and took a long swallow.
Her eyes narrowed on him over the rim of her flute as she held it to her lips. What the devil was he doing here?
Yet there he stood, uninvited and unannounced, having somehow slipped unnoticed into the party and looking for all the world as if he belonged here, right down to the shine of the silver buttons on his dark blue brocade waistcoat.
But of course he would. And oddly enough, striking her not as a gentleman in his evening finery that was surely crafted by the best Bond Street tailors, not as the brother of an earl, but as a chameleon who blended into his surroundings.
Was that why she hadn’t noticed him at the tavern, until he’d been lying on top of her? Was that how he’d managed to so seamlessly fit into the party tonight? Because he purposefully made himself blend into the crowd? Even now, his dark blond hair was mussed just enough to give him the same rakish and slightly dangerous look as the officers around him. The rascal even had the cheek to wear a ruby pin in his cravat, that small flash of red at his neck as powerful as the full red uniforms of the soldiers scattered throughout the room.
Yet despite that inexplicable way he had of blending into the crowd, he was clearly the most dashing man in the room. There was no hiding that. Even now half the women present had their eyes on him. For heaven’s sakes, Lady Sussex was practically drooling.
Julia craned her neck to see who had snagged Diana’s attention. Her flitting fan stopped mid-flutter. “Isn’t that—”
“Yes.”
“The cousin of the man who—”
“Yes.”
Her gaze trailed shamelessly over him. “Oh my.”
Oh yes. She forced a bored little sniff. “I suppose…if you find that sort of pretension attractive.”
“I do.” Her fan flitted wildly now. “I definitely do.” She arched a knowing brow. “And so do you.”
Diana choked on her champagne. “I do not! He isn’t at all the type that stirs my interest.”
“Handsome, charming—”
“Shiftless.”
That he certainly was. He might have saved her that night at the tavern, might even possess the good character and competence the general claimed he saw in the man. And, drat it, she had to give him credit for that, which complicated the devil out of the changing opinion she was forming about him, that perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he portrayed himself to the world to be. Perhaps.
But the fact remained that Carlisle had done nothing to live up to his capabilities. Instead, he’d been more than content to live off his brother’s charity and eschew any attempts at a respectable living, good character or not. For that alone, she entertained no ideas about him. After all, she had to be so very careful about the men she let into her life.
Yet strange disappointment gnawed at her that he wasn’t more responsible, more set on making something of himself rather than charming his way through life. That he couldn’t be more like the sort of man she needed.
He stood apart at the edge of the room, lazily swirling a glass of Madeira in his palm. He let his gaze drift aimlessly over the crowd, unhurried in his perusal, as if bored with the party…
Until his gaze landed on her.
All the tiny muscles in her belly twisted into knots as her eyes locked with his. She saw the knowing glint of recognition spark in the blue depths of his eyes, the twitch of a grin at his sensuous lips, and she knew—
The rascal had been searching the room. For her.
His eyes trailed rakishly over her, heating every inch of skin not covered by the satin and lace of her blue dress and long white gloves. The devil was undressing her with his eyes and surely imagining what she looked like beneath, bare in the lamplight, and an unsettling sensation of feminine pleasure sparked inside her.
“Still, I would bet that he’s a wonderful dance partner,” Julia mused, unaware of the silent communication occurring between them. “How could he not be? I mean, look at him.”
Diana was certainly doing just that, taking her own shameless glance over him in return, from the dark gold hair that curled at his collar down to the
muscular thighs accentuated by white kerseymere trousers. So dashing and handsome… If he were anyone else—anyone but Christopher Carlisle—she would have found a way to wrangle a dance from him, to closet herself away with him at the side of the room or on the garden terrace where they could share a conversation in private, and perhaps let him kiss her again the way he had by the stables.
But fate never listened to her heart. Because he was a scapegrace second son. The worst man in the world for her.
“Then by all means,” Diana mumbled, inexplicable loss panging in her chest, “you should dance with him.”
“Perhaps…”
His eyes returned to hers. Holding her gaze fixed beneath his, he raised the glass of Madeira to his lips and took a long, slow swallow in what she knew was a secret toast to her. Liquid warmth splashed through her, and she couldn’t help the soft catch of her breath at the heated sensation, one as palpable as if he’d skimmed his hands down the length of her bare body.
He set down his glass and ambled toward her through the crowd.
“Or perhaps he’s coming for you.”
The warmth he’d stirred inside her only seconds before froze instantly into trepidation. “No, he isn’t. He’s—”
“Headed right toward you,” her friend finished as Christopher continued forward, his eyes never straying from hers. Like a man on a mission…or a wolf stalking his prey. Julia waved her fan and began to move away. “And that’s my cue to leave.”
She reached for Julia’s arm to stop her. “You’re running interference for me with the enemy tonight, remember?”
“If he’s your enemy, then you know what they say…Keep your friends close.” She took a glance at Christopher and murmured appreciatively, “Keep your enemies closer.”
Oh, he’d already been more than close enough that night at the tavern, thank you very much. And he simply could not get any closer. So she refused to release Julia’s arm, despite her friend’s small tugs to pull it away, even when he stopped in front of her and sketched a bow to both women.
“Miss Warner…Miss Morgan.” His eyes sparkled when they landed on her. “Lovely party, isn’t it?”
Julia gave one more firm tug and freed her arm, and Diana was unable to grab after her without embarrassing herself. She refused to look like a goose in front of him by hiding behind her friend like a shield, even if that was exactly what she’d hoped to do.
Julia slid a glance between the two and mumbled, “Certainly interesting, at any rate.”
His deep voice tickled playfully down Diana’s spine. “I’ve come to pay my respects to the hostess.”
Of course he had. And pigs flew.
She smiled tightly. “None necessary, Mr. Carlisle. Your unexpected presence here tonight is respect enough.”
An amused gleam glinted in his blue eyes at her dig. Good. Let it serve as a reminder that she knew exactly what kind of bounder he was, especially to sneak into the party uninvited.
“But I insist. My mother taught me to always be a gentleman, and I wouldn’t want to offend my late mother’s memory.” He flashed both women a charming grin. “If anyone is capable of boxing her son’s ears from the grave, it would be her.”
Julia smothered a laugh behind her fan.
“Surely you’ve given her no reason to scold you for your behavior.” Ignoring Julia, Diana gave him a saccharine smile. “And so need not worry about it tonight.”
“Yet I do.”
Frustrating devil! “Then you should give your respects to the general. The party was his idea.”
“But the general isn’t nearly as much fun to dance with as his daughter.”
“He’s spry for his age. He’ll surprise you.”
“His daughter keeps surprising me even more.”
Julia’s eyes darted between the two of them, as if watching a tennis match. Diana wanted to shake her.
It was time to end this nonsense, so she gave him a dismissive smile. “I’m afraid that I’m done dancing for the evening.”
“Then I must settle for paying you other attentions.” He held out his hand. “Would you favor me with a turn about the room, Miss Morgan?”
At the invitation, Julia’s fan dropped away, and she gave up all pretense of not being interested in their exchange to stare at Christopher as if he were a prince.
“I’m sorry,” Diana refused, not at all apologetic. “I couldn’t possibly leave my friend.”
Julia gaped at her as if she were a bedlamite. “Of course you can!”
Diana glowered at her. With allies like this, who needed enemies? “It wouldn’t be at all polite of me to—”
“And where is your brother this evening, Miss Morgan?” he interrupted with a friendly smile.
His question jarred her, the private meaning behind it not at all friendly.
Well aware of the eavesdropping guests pressing in around them, she answered carefully, “Visiting friends in the North.”
“Is he? I’d heard differently.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. That was why he was here. He had information about Garrett.
He held out his hand again. “A turn about the room, if you’d please?”
“Of course.” She placed her hand in his to be led away.
Chapter 7
“You’ve found out something about my brother.” Diana’s fingers stiffened against his sleeve where her hand rested on his arm. “What have you learned?”
Aware of all the guests who were watching them, and the necessity of not bringing undue attention upon them, Kit smiled but shook his head, as if they were having a normal conversation. But just like everything else in his life, this was nothing but pretense and illusion hiding a deeper darkness.
He leaned closer to speak into her ear over the noise of the party. “Not here.”
Her fingers dug into his forearm in reply.
He slid a sideways glance at her. She walked slowly beside him, the smile of a good hostess plastered into place and her head held imperially high, looking for all the world as if she were simply entertaining one of her father’s guests. But beneath her composed surface simmered apprehension so intense that it seeped into him through her fingertips.
He should have been pleased that she’d so easily agreed to go off with him for a private conversation. Instead, unease stirred the little hairs at his nape that she could appear so calm on the outside that no one in the crush of partygoers suspected anything more between them than a mild attempt at flirtation on his part and the politeness of a dutiful hostess on hers. How had she learned to do that?
He was used to deception in his life. Lived it every moment of every day, in fact. But when it involved Diana, that same pretense troubled him.
“You look lovely this evening,” he murmured, wanting to pry under her façade to find the real woman beneath. “Downright angelic in that dress.”
“Ironic, since you’re behaving like the devil come to capture my soul.”
He grinned. There she was, the feisty creature who had fought so hard against him at the inn. He liked this bit of hellcat in her. Although—he raked a sideways glance over her—he liked the pretty society lady in her, as well. More than he should.
He hadn’t lied. She did look like an angel, with her golden hair cascading over one shoulder in a riot of curls, in that blue dress of satin and lace that hugged her bosom and capped her shoulders. Just enough skin was left bare to the eye to be tempting. Very tempting. Even now he longed to lean over and brush his mouth over her collarbone, to discover for himself if she tasted like sweet icing that melted on the tongue or exotic spices that tingled the lips.
They reached the far end of the room. Instead of circling back along the other side, he led her into the hallway with a guiding tug of his arm. He couldn’t help the spark of pleasure when she followed so trustingly. “I’m not a devil, Diana. I’m a gentleman.”
“Is there a difference?”
“None I’ve ever discovered.” He led her down the hall
way and further away from the party. “But even us devils find ourselves attracted to angels every now and then.”
He’d expected a soft laugh from her, a dismissive smack of her hand on his arm to remind him to behave. Instead, she surprised him with a whispered, “Please don’t call me that.”
“Angel, you mean?” Taken aback by her reaction, he stopped and matched her frown with one of his. Every inch of him was aware that they were alone in the hallway. “It’s a compliment.”
“It’s an impossible standard that I can never—”
In one fluid motion, he opened the door beside them and swept her inside the room with him.
Dark and bathed with shadows, the room was lit only by the faint light of the starry night that fell through the tall French doors and giant fanlights dominating the far wall. Beyond the glass stretched the gardens, its paths lit by scattered torches and paper lanterns, an earthbound mirror of the stars overhead.
But at that moment, he saw none of it. His attention rested on only one place as he struggled to remember to breathe.
Diana.
A slant of moonlight fell gently over her hair and shoulders, bathing her in its silvery light and making her resemble a spirit magically cast up from the midnight shadows around them. The small pearls at her ears glistened like drops of dew, and the satin of her dress simply glowed. All of her seemed to float on the night air, delicate and ephemeral. Very much an angel. For one fantastical moment, he feared that she might vanish like the evening mist if he dared to touch her.
Completely unaware of the effect she had on him, she took a step closer. “My brother.” Her soft voice spooled around him like a silk ribbon, entangling him in her spell. “What have you learned?” She placed her hand pleadingly on his upper arm, having no idea of the heat she flared inside him with that simple touch. How she utterly captivated him. “Please tell me.”
He stared down at her, wanting to catch every flitting emotion crossing her beautiful face. “He’s alive.”
“Oh, thank God!” A deep, ragged sigh tore from her, as if she’d been holding her breath since he last saw her. Her hand on his sleeve now clutched at him, and he resisted the urge to snake his arm around her waist and pull her softness against him. “Where is he?”
After the Spy Seduces Page 7