She did not look forward to their next meeting but it was inevitable. What would he say? What would she say?
And what was everyone else saying? She was amazed that all present weren't whispering among themselves about her fall from grace. It wasn't unusual for her to be the topic of gossip and she was confident Max would never reveal what had occurred between them. Still, she couldn't ignore the uneasy sensation that each and every person here was well aware of the encounter in the stables. Did she somehow look different now? Was there something about her that screamed of her indiscretion?
Of course not. It was no more than her conscience and a far too active imagination. She'd never paid a great deal of attention to her conscience but then her crimes had never quite reached this magnitude before. She tossed back the rest of her champagne and wondered if now she could truly live up to her hellion title. After all, she'd lost her heart and her virtue and what else really mattered?
“Miss Effington, may I have the honor of this dance?” A tall, attractive gentleman with a sober expression but pleasant eyes stood before her. She vaguely remembered him from the Ride.
“Of course,” she murmured, handing her glass to a footman and acc ompanying her new partner onto the floor. She breathed a prayer of gratitude it was not a waltz. Her grandmother loved the waltz and insisted it make up the majority of the dances. The last thing Pandora wanted right now was to be in the arms of a man. Any man.
She performed the steps of the quadrille without effort and with very little thought. Her gaze drifted over the gathering. Perhaps it wasn't her imagination, after all. Her grandmother, the duchess, and her mother were seated in one area, exchanging idle chatter. Nothing odd about that, but she caught more than one pointed glance in her direction.
She executed a turn and noted her aunts speaking to Cynthia. Cynthia glanced at her, then quickly pulled her gaze away, as if she was hiding something. Or was Cynthia embarrassed? Ashamed? Of her? Heat burned her cheeks. Cynthia nodded to her aunts and they took their leave. She appeared to study the dancers for a moment, then swiftly stepped to the doors leading to the terrace and slipped outside. What was she doing?
Pandora wanted to follow her, but the last thing she needed was to draw additional attention to herself by leaving in the middle of this dance. A dance that seemed endless. A turn took her out of sight of the terrace doors. A few steps later they were again in view. A door opened and Max stepped inside.
She sucked in a shocked breath. Her vision narrowed and an odd dizziness swept through her. For a moment, she thought she'd collapse in a heap on the floor. Max? On the terrace with Cynthia? This was not her imagination creating something where nothing existed. Those with no need to hide did not sneak off for clandestine meetings in secluded places.
The dance at last came to an end. She murmured her thanks to her partner and excused herself. She accepted another glass of champagne and forced herself to think. Logically. Rationally.
She needed a plan and she needed one now. She didn't know if Max still wished to marry her. And if he did it obviously had nothing to do with love.
She couldn't let him win, but he needed only three points and she didn't know how to stop him. It seemed there was little she did know at the moment. Frustration and helplessness surged through her and she struggled to ignore the sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.
“Do you realize you and I have never danced before?” Max's voice sounded behind her.
She drew a deep breath and turned. In the split second before her gaze met his, she knew one thing she could indeed do to salvage what was left of her pride and perhaps her heart as well.
She tilted her head and favored him with her most brilliant smile. The very one she'd practiced before her first season. The very one that was second nature to her now. The very one that deepened her dimples and was, by all accounts, irresistible.
His eyes widened and a smile of appreciation spread across his face.
She knew if she knew nothing else, she absolutely could not allow Max to know he'd broken her heart.
And she could not let him know she loved him.
Chapter 20
A Point Well Played
She gazed up at him through lashes dark and thick and lush. Her voice was husky in a wonderfully exciting way. “Haven't we, my lord?”
“No.” His mouth was abruptly dry and he could barely croak out the words. “We haven't.”
“How on earth do you suppose we've avoided dancing? It quite seems to me we've done everything else together.” The look in her eye was as suggestive as her voice, and he swallowed hard.
He stared down at her mesmerized. Desire, hot and unyielding, gripped him. “You look exquisite tonight.”
“Oh, my lord, you do turn a pretty phrase.” She took a sip of her champagne, her gaze never leaving his.
God help him, he would do anything for this woman. Or anything to have this woman. “I gather you are no longer angry with me?”
“Come now, my lord, how could any woman in her right mind stay angry at you?”
“Excellent.” He breathed a sigh of relief. She actually appeared pleased to see him. “After the way we parted this morning, I was somewhat afraid, actually, that--”
“Afraid? The Earl of Trent?” She laughed lightly. “Why, you're a hero. I can scarce imagine you afraid of anything.”
“Perhaps ‘concerned’ is a better word. I expected you…”He stared at her thoughtfully. “I expected you--”
“Expected me to what, my lord?” Her eyes widened in innocence. “Ignore you? Avoid you? Grab a champagne bottle and bash it over your head? Shoot you, perhaps?” She flashed him a dazzling smile. “I would never even consider anything so absurd.”
“You wouldn't? Why not?”
She laughed again. “As you well know, my aim is atrocious.” She finished her champagne, waved to a waiter and handed him her glass. “Fortunately for us both, I am much more skilled with a waltz than I am with a gun.”
“That is fortunate,” he murmured, offering her his arm. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and cast him a look that could only be described as adoring. Too adoring. She had never gazed at him like this. Not this morning. Not ever. It was artificial and too polished. And it did not suit her. Or him.
A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He escorted her to the floor and drew her into his arms, at once remembering how perfectly her body fit with his and resisting the urge to pull her closer. Not that he could have done so anyway. In spite of her overly flirtatious and affectionate manner, she kept him at a distance not even the most proper matron could fault. No, there was no doubt in his mind now. The Hellion was furious.
They whirled around the floor with a natural ease as if they'd danced together always. As if their bodies and souls were made for each other. Bloody hell. Why couldn't she see that?
“I have been giving a great deal of thought to your comments this morning,” she said, as if the topic at hand was of no more importance than the weather.
“Oh?” Caution sounded in his tone. “Which comments were those?”
“Your declaration that marriage was inevitable. To salvage my honor.”
“I see.” He wasn't entirely certain he wished to hear her thoughts. His gaze shifted from hers and he scanned the room over her shoulder. “And?”
“And as much as I do appreciate your ever so generous offer, I must decline. It simply wouldn't be, oh,” he glanced down at her and she beamed, “in the spirit of the game.”
“Very well.”
“Very well?” Her eyes widened. “I am surprised, my lord. I expected another detailed explanation of my ruined state.”
He caught sight of Laurie dancing with Miss Weatherly and calculated the number of turns on the floor it would take to narrow the distance between the two couples. He smiled down at her. “I rather like you ruined.”
Her expression never wavered, but her jaw tightened slightly and a flash of defiance shone in
her eyes. “Now that I have had time to think about it, so do I.”
“What?” What was the blasted woman planning now?
There was more than a touch of satisfaction in her smile. “It appears a whole new world of opportunities is now opened to me.”
“Opportunities?” Surely she wasn't suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?
“Indeed. And I have you to thank for it.”
“Me?”
“Oh, not for this morning, although I do owe you my thanks for that. No, it was you who pointed out when we first met that I could never be a governess. And you who assumed I had chosen another option. Now, I am well trained for that particular option.”
The thought of Pandora in the arms of anyone twisted his heart. Without thinking, he pulled her closer and pinned her rebellious gaze with his. “The only thing you are trained for is marriage with me.”
“It will scarcely seem worth the effort when you lose.”
“When I win.”
He spotted Miss Weatherly out of the corner of his eye and stopped so quickly Pandora stumbled against him. Miss Weatherly had completely slipped his mind. He turned and saw her facing Laurie on the dance floor, directly in front of the Effington women, exactly where she was supposed to be.
“What is going on there?” Pandora murmured.
“Perhaps we should find out,” he said and they started toward the couple, skirting around the outer edge of the dancers.
Miss Weatherly's gaze flicked to his and back to Laurie's. She squared her shoulders, raised her hand, and cracked it across Laurie's face.
Pandora gasped. “By the gods!”
“Good Lord.” Shock coursed through him. He'd never expected this.
Laurie clapped his hand to his cheek, his mouth dropped open in stunned silence.
The music stopped and the entire gathering focused on the tense scene. The dowager waved sharply to the musicians and the music resumed, the dancers falling back into step while obviously trying not to miss a single moment of what might well prove to be a juicy scandal.
“I cannot believe you would have the nerve to suggest such a thing.” Miss Weatherly's voice quavered and Max couldn't suppress a touch of admiration. The chit had far more courage than even he suspected.
“What?” Laurie's eyes were wide. “What did I say?”
“If he's done anything to hurt her,” Pandora said under her breath. She and Max reached a spot near her grandmother and stopped.
“You know perfectly well what you said. What you implied! You…you…” Miss Weatherly glared. “Prig!”
“Twit,” Pandora said under her breath.
“A bore is what he is,” Lady Edward said.
Lady William nodded. “I've always said he was a bore.”
“Now wait just one moment,” Laurie said indignantly. “I am many things but I am most definitely not a bore. I am quite charming and most entertaining. Why, in many circles--”
“He's a bore.” Lady William sighed.
“No question whatsoever.” Lady Edward shook her head. “The man is indeed a bore.”
“A bore?” Pandora leveled Max an out-raged glare.
He ignored her and stepped toward Laurie. “Now then, Bolton, apologize to Miss Weatherly. At once.”
“Why?” Laurie's gaze shot to Miss Weatherly's and she looked away pointedly. “I didn't do anything to apologize for.”
“Nonetheless,” Max said in a stern tone. “An apology is in order. Unless you would prefer to handle this matter outside.”
Laurie narrowed his eyes and studied him carefully. It was apparent to Max he was moments away from saying or doing something none of them would ever recover from. Max needed to get him out of here without delay.
“Very well,” Laurie said slowly. “Outside it is.” He headed toward the doors to the terrace. Max started after him.
“Nicely done, Lord Trent,” the dowager duchess said. He paused and nodded, trying not to grin. “Did you see that, Pandora? How he bested that bore?”
“I could scarce miss it, Grandmother.” Her expression was pleasant, but one look in her eyes, and poor aim or not, Max sent a silent prayer heavenward in gratitude that she did not have her pistol.
“You do know what that means, dear?” The dowager's tone left no room for protest.
“Oh, indeed I do,” Pandora said, in a soft tone that chilled his blood. She leaned close and laid her hand on his arm. “Congratulations on your point, my lord. Do enjoy it. Tomorrow we return to London, and without your man-eating mares, achieving the last two points may be more difficult than you imagine.”
“I doubt that.” His confident tone belied his concern about at least one of those points. “It has not been particularly difficult thus far.”
“Ah, but doesn't any competition grow harder the closer one gets to the end?” Her smile did not quite reach her eyes and the challenge in her tone was unmistakable. “Good evening, my lord.”
She nodded to her grandmother and the other ladies then turned and marched away. He stared after her for a moment, realizing what a mistake it would be to dismiss either her anger or her cleverness. For the first time since they sealed their bargain he wondered if there was indeed the possibility of defeat.
Max pushed the thought aside and hurried after Laurie. He pulled open one of the French doors lining the far wall, stepped outside, and paused to search the shadows. Ornate candelabras balanced on the stone balusters cast circles of light on the far side of the terrace, and rectangles of light lit the area closest to the doors, but the rest of the terrace was illuminated only by starlight.
“Laurie?”
“I didn't say anything to her, Max.” Laurie stepped forward, a grim expression on his face.
“Laurie, I--”
“Nothing at all.” He touched the side of his face tenderly. “At least nothing to deserve this.”
“Laurie, it's--”
“And I warn you, Max, if you feel compelled to thrash me simply to acquire another point I shall be forced to retaliate.”
“Laurie--” Would the man ever let him get a word in?
“Very well, I confess.” Laurie crossed his arms over his chest. “I might have implied that she was trying to lead but, damnation, Max, the bit of baggage was pushing me all over the bloody ballroom.”
Max tried not to laugh. “Laurie--”
“And even so, I don't think that merited all this. It wasn't as if I said she didn't dance well or cast aspersions on her character because of her annoying tendency to try to dominate on a dance floor. In point of fact, Max,” a note of disbelief sounded in his voice, “I rather, somewhat, possibly…”
“Like her?”
“Perhaps,” Laurie said reluctantly. “Perhaps more than like her.”
“I see.”
“Come now, Max, you needn't take that tone it's not at all as if--”
A door opened a few feet down from the one Max used and Miss Weatherly stepped into sight. She glanced at Max.
Max grinned.
Miss Weatherly laughed.
Laurie glowered. “I say, this is not at all funny. A moment ago, you were outraged and you were prepared to defend her hon…” His gaze shot from one to the other and his eyes narrowed. “Or it was all an act?”
“And an excellent one at that.” Max swept an exaggerated bow in Miss Weatherly's direction. “I commend you on an outstanding job. You have my thanks and my gratitude.”
She bobbed a curtsey. “It was my pleasure, my lord.”
“No doubt,” Laurie muttered.
Miss Weatherly stepped toward him. “I did warn you I would do everything I could to ensure Trent's victory. In fact, it was my idea to invite you here in the first place. I thought it best to keep an eye on you, Lawrence.”
Lawrence?
“You humiliated me in front of everyone. You made a fool out of me.” A wounded note sounded in Laurie's voice but Max wondered how much of what he alleged was truth and how much was a play f
or sympathy. “I should have known better than to come anywhere near an Effington. This kind of thing is to be expected when you have anything whatsoever to do with that family.”
Max frowned. “What do you--”
“Come now, don't be absurd.” Miss Weatherly fisted her hands on her hips and fixed Laurie with a firm gaze. “You should know, if you have not yet realized it, the Effingtons, at least the Effington ladies, are well aware that this was all a sham.”
“Well, it didn't feel like a sham.” Laurie rubbed the side of his face. “It hurt.”
“I am sorry.” Miss Weatherly placed her palm on his cheek and abruptly Max noted what an attractive pair the two made. Laurie was but a few inches taller than she. In the mix of light from doors and stars, their fair hair glowed gold and silver and their tall figures appeared ethereal, like fairy royalty stepped from the pages of Shakespeare.
“Are you?” Laurie said softly, pulling her hand to his lips.
“Er, Laurie,” Max said uneasily.
“I am.” Her voice carried a meaning far beyond her words. “I never wished to hurt you.”
Laurie's arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her close. “Do you promise never to injure me again, then?”
“Miss Weatherly?” Max's voice rose.
Her response was too low for Max to hear and he was damned grateful. Laurie laughed. Without adequate warning, her arms were around his neck and Laurie's lips met hers in an overly passionate kiss.
“Good God,” Max said under his breath. Heat flushed his face and he quickly turned his back to them. There were some things even your oldest friend was not meant to see. Oh, certainly he had seen Laurie kiss women before but they were, well, they definitely weren't anything like Miss Weatherly.
Miss Weatherly? He groaned. If Pandora ever did forgive him for all his other transgressions, and judging by her manner tonight, forgiveness might well be a long time in coming, how would she react to this? For some reason, she'd apparently taken an instant dislike to Laurie. No doubt she would place the blame for this new development squarely on Max's shoulders.
The Wedding Bargain Page 23