Then, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she turned her face away, took Lord Lynton’s arm and walked with him into the crowd of guests.
Shaken by that wordless encounter, Will turned back to Lucilla. It seemed there was not enough air in the room, for he had to catch his breath before he could speak. “Despite a childhood spent banished from society,” he said at last, “the girl seems poised enough. Where did Lady Grace and her daughter end up?”
“Her father was a musician, I’m told, so—”
“Don’t tell me she’s the daughter of Emilio Antinori!” Will interrupted, the vague flicker of recognition in his brain suddenly flaming into focus.
“Why, yes. You’ve heard of him? Well, of course you would have,” Lucilla concluded, “as interested in music as you’ve always been. He was good, I take it?”
Will laughed, his gaze following the girl as she made her way through the room on her escort’s arm. “‘Good’ is hardly adequate to describe the work of Emilio Antinori. The man was a genius, not just the most talented violinist since Haydn, but also a composer whose works rival in depth and complexity those of Bach and Beethoven. I once had the privilege of watching him play. Amazing.”
Though he’d attended the concert more than ten years ago, Will could still hear the high, pure vibrato notes, see the flying fingers that made the intricate progression of arpeggios seem effortless while the intensity of melody held him mesmerized. If he’d had a fraction of the talent of the great Antinori, he would have turned his back on his heritage and become a professional musician.
With an ache of regret that the world had lost such a talent, Will came back to the present to find Lucilla watching him, a faint smile on her lips. “Do I get my dance now?” she asked. “Or, given that look in your eye, must there be introductions first?”
“You can present me to Miss Antinori?” he asked eagerly.
“I met her while paying afternoon calls. She seems nice enough. Her cousin and sponsor, Robert Lynton, the new Lord Lynton, was a classmate of Domcaster’s at Oxford.”
“Rob Lynton? Yes, I remember him from school. Present me then, if you please.”
Lucilla’s smile faded. “There’s one other complication you should know about. With Lynton sponsoring Miss Antinori, one would expect Lady Lynton to be her chaperone, but apparently the two do not get on. I don’t know Robert’s stepmother—she made her bow after Domcaster and I retired to the country. I’m told that after several years as society’s reigning Diamond, she married the late Lord Lynton only last year.”
Will recalled a well-curved blond beauty with blue eyes and a coquettish manner ill-suited to her status as a new bride. “I believe I have met Lady Lynton.”
“As a handsome man with a rakish reputation, I imagine you have,” Lucilla retorted with a sniff. “Though she makes quite a display of mourning, I’ve heard Sapphira Lynton has never gotten over being society’s darling, the only child doted on by her papa. The Lyntons are quite wealthy, which I suppose explains why she accepted that offer out of the scores she’s reputed to have received. Though I also understand that while her husband lay dying, ’twas Miss Antinori who nursed her relation while Lynton’s ‘distraught’ wife consoled herself with her cicisbos.”
Having already formed a dim opinion of a lady who’d been casting out lures to other men when the wedding ring had scarcely settled on her finger, Will could readily believe it. “And the happy family resides all together? Quite an accomplishment.”
Lucilla chuckled. “It must be indeed. I’ll present you if you insist, though I’d much rather your interest were piqued by a chit of more…conventional upbringing.”
“Like Miss Benton-Wythe?” he asked dryly. Before Lucilla could answer, he grinned and added, “Didn’t you say you’d not hold her mother’s lapses against Miss Antinori?”
“One always hopes the brave soul risking censure by doing the good deed will not be one’s friend or relation.”
“Given my past, I can hardly hold the prospect of scandal against her,” Will pointed out.
“Which is precisely why you need to approach only girls of unquestioned reputation!” Lucilla retorted. “Very well, I’ll present you. Although—” she gave him a rueful look “—for the reasons we’ve just mentioned, Lynton might well prefer that I not present you to his ward.”
“So the two black sheep do not further sully each other’s wool,” Will surmised.
“It would be more prudent,” Lucilla agreed.
His cousin was right. For a long moment, Will hesitated, torn between Lucilla’s sensible advice…and the remembered force of Miss Antinori’s gaze.
It was only an introduction, he reasoned. The girl might turn out to be a beautiful widget, as feather-brained as Miss Benton-Wythe or as tongue-tied as poor Miss Rysdale. Though given the cool confidence with which she had held his gaze, he didn’t think so.
Enough pondering. He would do it, Will decided. Nodding to Lucilla, he offered his arm. Together they set off toward where Miss Antinori and Lord Lynton had disappeared into the crowd.
“One final matter,” Lucilla murmured as they approached. “If after the introductions, Lynton allows you to converse with the lady, I beg you will not distress her by inquiring about her scandalous father—no matter how much you admired him as a musician. I imagine that’s one topic she wishes to strictly avoid.”
In the next instant, they reached their party and Lucilla called Lynton’s name. With his ward on his arm, he turned toward them—and Will sucked in a breath.
Miss Antinori seen close up was even more enchanting than Miss Antinori viewed from a distance. Her glossy dark hair, piled atop her head in an intricate arrangement threaded through with gold ribbon and pearls, just reached his chin. Her perfume, a spicy waft of lavender, enveloped him as she gazed up, those dark, extravagantly lashed eyes wary. His gaze roved across the satin plane of her cheeks down to the lush fullness of her apricot lips.
Sweat broke out on his brow and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. But then he couldn’t help himself, he simply had to sneak a quick glance downward, across the elegant curve of neck and shoulder down to that voluptuous, mouth-watering swell of bosom.
Oh, that he might repeat that journey of the eyes with his fingertips, his tongue!
While the rush of sensation in his body threatened to overwhelm him, Will tried to remind himself that Miss Antinori was a lady—an innocent, virginal maiden. He must not think of her in this way, no matter how much she reminded him of the delightfully passionate and inventive ballerina he’d once had the pleasure of loving, before a peer with a larger purse had stolen her away.
As if in a daze, he heard himself murmur a greeting to Lynton and the chaperone, who responded in turn. Not until Lucilla presented him and he saw Miss Antinori curtsey was he finally able to wrench his mind free of the sensual fantasies. Seizing the hand she offered, he bowed and touched his lips to the air above them, rich with her potent scent.
“Miss Antinori, it is my profound pleasure.”
CHAPTER FIVE
A FLURRY OF THOUGHTS whirled through Allegra’s mind as the dark-garbed gentleman bowed before her, the clasp of his hand making her fingers tingle beneath her gloves. So this was the “divine” Lord Tavener Sapphira’s friends had discussed with such relish. Was he mocking or admiring her?
Though Rob had complimented her appearance tonight, he had not examined her as thoroughly as the bold-eyed man bowing over her hand, who’d tried to stare her out of countenance a few moments ago. Not at all ashamed of her parents or her upbringing, she’d met the man’s gaze proudly…and felt a sharp, strong sensation almost like a shock, so unusual and unexpected she’d had great difficulty maintaining her composure.
As with his profession of “profound pleasure” in meeting her just now, she wasn’t sure whether he’d intended to admire or disparage. So how to respond?
Excruciating politeness would be best, she decided, trying not to be distracted
by her still-tingling fingers. “I am equally pleased to meet you, Lord Tavener,” she said coolly, removing her hand from his disturbing grip. If he’d meant to mock, she’d just returned the favor.
He seemed to understand that, for as he straightened, he grinned at her. “A lady as clever as she is lovely. Now that is a double delight,” he replied.
As she let herself inspect him, another shock rippled through her. Heavens, he was arresting! Low as her opinion of Sapphira and her friends might be, she had to concede they had not underestimated Lord Tavener’s appeal.
Broad of shoulders and whipcord lean, he emanated an aura of strength and confidence that was almost menacing. Dressed all in black save for his cream patterned waistcoat and snowy cravat, he wore the elegant clothes negligently, as if his appearance was not of much importance to him.
When she shifted her eyes farther upward, she felt again that odd, sizzling sensation. Though not precisely handsome, his face with its sharp chin, molded cheekbones and high forehead brushed by a lock of dark hair gave the impression of roughness and power. Suddenly she recalled the Michelangelo sketches Papa had once shown her, studies made by the master before he began his sculpture.
Recalling also the unclothed nature of those studies, her cheeks heated as she finally met his gaze. Eyes of a striking ice blue captured hers. Dazzled, drawn to him, for a moment she had the ridiculous idea that he could see straight into her soul. A smile curved his lips, setting off a fascinating slow scintillation in those blue, blue eyes. Scarcely breathing, Allegra could not look away.
“Like what you see?” he murmured at last.
His entirely inappropriate words broke the spell, made her realize she’d been staring at him just as rudely as he had at her earlier. Though she felt the heat in her cheeks intensify, having avidly observed gallants at the theater as they wooed the actresses, Allegra didn’t need the conversation she’d overheard in Sapphira’s drawing room to recognize she had just met a rake of the first order.
“Do you like what you see, sir, when you gaze in the mirror?” she flashed back.
His smile widened. “That depends on who I see in the mirror with me. I note that, being still in black gloves, you cannot dance. I am promised to Lady Domcaster for the next set, but afterwards, might I have the honor of strolling with you?”
He was dangerously attractive, with those mesmerizing eyes and that knowing smile. In her circumstances, however, the last person she needed to encourage was an out-and-out rake. Still, he was Lady Domcaster’s cousin, and that lady, niece to one earl and wife to another, was impeccably well-connected. It wouldn’t do to offend her.
“If you wish, Lord Tavener, I should be happy to stroll with you,” she said, disturbed by an unwanted jolt of anticipation at the thought.
“That, among other things, I most devoutly wish,” he replied. “Until later, Miss Antinori.” With a bow to Mrs. Randall and Rob, he walked off, Lady Domcaster on his arm.
“Damn and blast!” Rob swore under his breath, confirming Allegra’s impression that Lord Tavener was not a gentleman he wanted her to know. “I realize you could do naught but accept, Allegra, but I wish it had been nearly any other man present who paid you his respects.”
“Dear me!” Mrs. Randall quavered. “Is Lord Tavener not good ton?”
“Until Lady Domcaster took him up this Season, he wasn’t,” Rob retorted. “Although that’s not entirely correct. There’s nothing at fault in his breeding. His father was a baron, albeit an impecunious one, and his mother a Carlisle. Her uncle, the Earl of Pennhurst, was appointed Tavener’s guardian after his parents died when he was just a lad—and did a rather poor job of it. Ignored Tavener for the most part and neglected the small estate he inherited, which is now said to be in ruins.”
“Poor boy!” Mrs. Randall said.
Rob grinned wryly. “He didn’t let himself be ignored at school, I promise you! We were at Eton and Oxford together, though being younger than he and moving with a different set, I didn’t know him well. Always spoiling for a fight, ready to take on even lads much bigger and older. Almost always won, by the way. He’s now accounted one of the foremost amateur pugilists in England.”
“It sounds as if he were angry with the world,” Allegra said. As well he might be, she thought with an empathetic pang, after losing his parents and being thrust into an indifferent world.
Rob shrugged. “Perhaps. Anyway, since Oxford he’s lived in London, keeping himself afloat with a mix of gaming and…and—” he lowered his voice as color stained his cheeks “—ah, associations with ladies of large fortune.”
“Married ladies,” Allegra surmised. “In other words, a rake.”
While Mrs. Randall gasped, Rob confirmed Allegra’s impression with a nod. “A notorious one, who has never before bothered to make an appearance at ton events. He and Lady Domcaster are close friends from youth, so with Domcaster still in the country, I suppose he must be acting as her escort. Though were she my wife, I doubt I’d permit him to do so, never mind that they are cousins.”
“Is she in danger from him?” Allegra inquired.
“Probably not,” Rob conceded. “Domcaster’s no fool. Besides, I seem to recall that he and Tavener were friends at Oxford, perhaps because he was then courting Tavener’s cousin, whom he later married. Most likely Tavener’s attempting to establish himself—at Lady Domcaster’s urging, I would guess.”
Like I am, Allegra thought.
“Good breeding or no, you’d do well to be on your guard, Allegra,” Rob warned. “If he says or does anything that gives you alarm, leave him at once.”
“Thank you, Rob. I will do so,” Allegra said.
Not that she’d needed Rob’s warning. With his intense eyes and beguiling charm, Tavener put her in mind of a peer who’d pursued a young actress friend the summer Allegra turned fifteen, when her father was playing in a theater orchestra. Knowing her strict papa would not approve her close association with a thespian, she’d had to sneak out to visit Molly, eager to learn what the vivacious, experienced girl could teach her about love and life.
Her lordship’s campaign began just after he attended their first performance in the town near his ancestral manor. Through Molly’s ploy-by-ploy description and her own observation, Allegra had eagerly followed the progress of his courtship, from the gifts, notes and ardent poetry to Molly’s eventual, enthusiastic capitulation. The physical particulars of which a prosaic Molly had explained in frank detail, Allegra recalled. Something hot and giddy churned in her belly at the memory.
Putting a hand on her stomach to quell the sensation, Allegra told herself to beware. Molly had so vividly described the feeling of physical attraction that, though she had never experienced it before, Allegra realized the reaction Lord Tavener evoked in her was desire.
’Twas disconcerting to discover one could feel lust for one man while pining for another, but she supposed she should not be surprised. Molly’s rake had demonstrated quite convincingly that true affection and desire could be entirely separate entities.
Charming as Lord Tavener might be, she could not afford to head down the path Molly had strolled so eagerly. No matter how compelling Tavener’s eyes—or how strong the shock to her fingers when he touched her hand.
Rob cleared his throat, pulling Allegra from her thoughts. A military gentleman approached, one of Rob’s friends, and was duly introduced. After conversing for a few moments, he drifted off.
A few matrons, acquaintances of Mrs. Randall, stopped to chat. Allegra grew painfully aware that for most of the long interval after Lord Tavener’s departure, though a number of gentlemen passing by gave her admiring looks, none save a few of Rob’s friends approached seeking an introduction. Rob optimistically predicted that she would find her way in society eventually, but after the last few weeks of calls that had elicited raised eyebrows and unspoken censure, Allegra wasn’t so sure.
Then, with a relief that was stronger than it should have been, she looked up to see
Lord Tavener approaching. She tried—and failed—to steel herself against the flutter in her belly when he took her hand.
After bowing to Rob and Mrs. Randall, he announced, “My cousin abandoned me in the ballroom in favor of tormenting several of her disappointed former suitors. Miss Antinori, are you ready to stroll?”
“Perfectly ready, sir,” she agreed and tucked her hand on his arm. Acutely aware of a renewed tingling sensation in her fingertips, of the masculine aura that seemed to surround him, she let him lead her off.
To her relief, he made no attempt to maneuver her toward the doors opening onto the terrace, guiding her instead out of the press of guests toward the wall, where they might make a circuit of the chamber.
“Do you know you are the most stunning creature here?” he asked. “Going through the moves of the country dance, waiting until I could return for you, seemed an eternity.”
Though the trajectory he’d chosen to walk her on might be proper, his conversation certainly wasn’t. “I imagine Lady Domcaster would be devastated to hear that,” she replied a bit acerbically.
As if startled, he stopped and turned to her, his brilliant blue eyes lighting again as he smiled. “That wit again! Bravo!” Moving closer, he squeezed her hand, his voice taking on a caressing tone. “I knew the instant I saw you tonight that you would delight…all of me.”
It was delicious nonsense…but it was also highly improper. Regretfully Allegra halted and removed her hand from his arm. “Lord Tavener, may I remind you that this is not the Cyprian’s Ball and I am neither a lightskirt nor a loose-moraled matron whose fancy you can capture. If you would return me to my chaperone, please?”
Having braced herself for irritation or anger, she was totally unprepared for his peal of laughter.
While she looked on, wide-eyed, he controlled his mirth. “Blast, Miss Antinori, but you are quite right. Pray accept my apologies! It’s just that, having gone about so little in good society, I have no idea how to talk to a gently bred maiden. My attempts at Lucilla’s dinner earlier were abysmal failures. You are so lovely, I was distracted clean out of renewing those efforts.”
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