“I say, Flick. That’s rather...er, different.”
“I’m so pleased you like it,” she said airily, choosing to take his words as a compliment, even if she wasn’t entire sure they were meant as such. “I shall stand out and make you proud of me.”
“We’re all proud of you anyway, squirt,” Rob said, laughing, “but if you repeat that to anyone I will deny it absolutely.”
“Is it so very unfashionable to be proud of one’s sister?”
Rob grimaced. “Social suicide.”
Flick glanced at her brother, so handsome in his evening clothes, blond hair flopping across his eyes as he laughed at her with affectionate good humour. She was biased, of course, but there could be no denying that he was handsome, charming and rich enough to attract any lady who took his fancy, although so far he’d avoided all the matchmaking mamas. She wanted to ask him if he ever felt lonely.
“Whom do you intend to dance with this evening?” she asked instead.
Rob shrugged. “As few ladies as possible. It’s bound to be the most horrible crush so I’ll stay only long enough to be polite.”
“And then escape to your club, I suppose.”
Rob shot her an amused glance. “Perhaps.”
The others joined them and Flick lost the opportunity to press him further.
Their carriage joined the long line beating a slow path to the Dannett’s door. As soon as they greeted their hostess, Flick looked for Darius. The difficultly with being so short was that she couldn’t see over the sea of heads. It was most frustrating because he had to be here already, waiting for her—it was the very least he could do—and they were wasting precious time.
A warm hand came to rest on the small of her back, searing her skin through the thin silk of her gown. She recognised the touch immediately and a spontaneous smile sprang to her lips. Her heart soared and it felt as though her internal organs had melted, just from knowing he was there.
“You look ravishing,” Darius whispered in her ear.
She turned to face him, her breath hitching in her throat as the warm richness of his gaze scorched her face. The expression in his eyes, piercingly intent, softened as he looked at her, and she felt a reckless compulsion to stand on her toes and kiss him. Just imagine what society would make of that! The salacious nature of her thoughts as she recalled their time together in his bedchamber sent shivers down her spine. Flick simply didn’t care. She was deeply and completely in love, and as far as she was concerned the rest of the world could go hang itself. And for tonight at least Darius was all hers.
“Good evening, Darius,” she said.
Flick had come to the conclusion that she needed to be less transparent, although she’d be the first to admit she probably wasn’t making a very good job of it at that particular moment. It was all Darius’s fault. She hadn’t seen him for over a week and felt too starved of his company to pretend indifference. She squared her shoulders, commanded her body not to react to him with quite such vigorous enthusiasm, and vowed to do better. He probably thought her very young and silly but if she kept her emotions under closer control perhaps he’d be more open with her.
“Shall we mingle?” He took her elbow and guided her round the edge of the crowded room.
“What have your investigators discovered?” she asked.
“Nothing more than what we already knew. The young rogues were all lodged at inns close to the areas where the robberies occurred.”
Flick twisted her lips. “That doesn’t help very much. There must be something more.”
“Nothing specific.”
His casual tone and determination not to meet her gaze made her suspicious.
“What is it that you’re not telling me?”
“My investigations are not yet complete so there’s nothing more to tell.”
“There’s not much time before the trial starts.”
Darius grimaced. “I’m well aware of that.”
She was about to upbraid him for cutting her out again but he looked pale and tired and she didn’t have it in her to spoil their time together by fighting with him.
“I’m sure you’ll discover something,” she said easily. “I know you when you set your mind to something, nothing else in the world exists.”
He briefly covered the gloved hand that rested on his arm with one of his own. “Except for you.”
“Then why don’t you tell me everything that happens, as we agreed you would?”
“What do you mean?” Darius paused at the side of the ballroom and briefly acknowledged one or two people who stopped to speak to them.
“Pallister,” she said sweetly. “I know he threatened my stepmother and that she came to see you.”
He studied her face. “How do you know that?”
“I asked first. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It only happened two days ago. I haven’t seen you since then.”
“But you managed to see Hal and tell him. If you’d come to the house, you could have told me as well.” He opened his mouth to speak but she wagged a finger beneath his nose. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s not a suitable topic for my ears or I swear I’ll...er, stamp on your foot.”
“I was merely trying to protect you from an unpleasantness,” he said, grinning as he moved his feet out of her range.
“Then it’s fortunate that I overheard Hal when my stepmother called.”
“Why do you say that?”
Flick told him all she’d told Hal. The ballroom was too crowded, the crush of people ebbing and flowing about them changing so frequently that there was no possibility of them being overheard. He looked very angry when she’d finished.
“I can’t bear the thought of you being treated like that,” he said violently.
“And yet I survived more or less unscathed.”
“Even so.”
“Well, something good came out of it and, if I was the type to wish for revenge then I would be feeling very content at this moment. Hal would probably have settled her debts, you see, but now he knows the truth, he certainly won’t. He really doesn’t care if Pallister carries out his threat so you mustn’t let it interfere with your defence strategy.”
He steered her into a convenient alcove and lowered his voice. “Have I told you recently how much I admire and love you?”
Flick offered him a sultry smile. “Since you’ve been avoiding me, you haven’t told me very much of anything.”
“The first dance is about to start. May I have the pleasure, Lady Felicity?”
“Don’t think to distract me with dancing,” she said sweetly as they moved into the first steps of a quadrille.
Darius laughed. “The thought hasn’t entered my head.”
“You should laugh more often, Darius. It lights up your entire face and makes you quite the most handsome man in the room.”
As they separated to move down the dance, Flick ruminated on the many aspects of Darius’s character that made it impossible for her not to love him. He was focused on making a success of himself because he wished to restore his family’s good name. His father never took anything seriously and had almost brought Brightstone Manor to its knees, leaving Darius with a deep aversion to gambling. Darius’s mother had adored her feckless husband and could still see no harm in him, even though she’d suffered hardships from his recklessness for years following his demise.
It had been left to Darius to repair the damage he’d done. While Rob and his other contemporaries undertook grand tours and let off steam when they completed university, Darius spent every waking hour working towards the restoration of his depleted inheritance. During her formative years Flick had wrestled with very different difficulties in the form of a spiteful stepmother but at least she’d never had to worry about money.
When the dance finished, Darius returned Flick to Leah and spent a few minutes in conversation with her and Beth.
“I shall return to take you in to supper,” he said to her, “if you’ll permit i
t.”
“Certainly.”
Darius smiled that infuriatingly enigmatic smile of his that make her heart skip a beat and a flood of glorious sensations to spiral through her body. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing and then disappearing into the crowd.
Flick danced with several other gentlemen, making the sort of light conversation with her partners that required little thought on her part. She received several invitations to join families on picnics and routs but deflected them all by telling the requesters that they should consult Leah.
Shortly before the supper interval, Flick wandered away from the ballroom in search of the ladies’ withdrawing room. She stayed there for a considerable while, enjoying the respite whilst a maid made adjustments to her hair.
When she emerged and made her way towards the ballroom, she heard loud male voices coming from a small salon. Curiosity drew her in that direction. She peered round the open door and barely suppressed a gasp. Lord Edward Armstrong and, she assumed, Viscount Peters were in heated debate.
“They know nothing,” Armstrong said with extreme self-assurance. “Just hold your nerve and it will all soon be over with.”
“But what if—”
“What if, what if!” Armstrong waved his arms in the air, clearly slightly foxed and close to losing his temper. “You’re worse than an old woman.”
“You don’t seem to realize what sort of questions he’s been asking. Deuced awkward he’s being.”
“But he hasn’t questioned you?”
“No, but I’m sure he will.”
Armstrong snorted. “Which counts for nothing. I tell you, no one can touch us because they know nothing.”
“Perhaps, but even so, all those questions... Someone, somewhere might hold a grudge and invent something.”
Flick moved closer to the door, desperate not to miss a word. She didn’t notice the pedestal immediately behind her until she backed into it and knocked a vase of flowers to the tiled floor. It smashed with a sickeningly loud noise that was audible even above the noise from the ballroom.
“What the hell was that?”
Armstrong wrenched open the door and Flick almost tumbled into the room. She recovered with commendable speed, even though her heart almost jumped out of her chest with fear.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. I was looking for the ladies’ withdrawing room.”
Armstrong grabbed her wrist so tightly that she cried out. He pulled her into the room and slammed the door closed.
“Has anyone ever told you, Lady Felicity, that it’s rude to listen at doors?” He pushed his face against hers, and the smell of brandy on his breath almost asphyxiated her.
“I wasn’t listening.” She angled her head back, away from his, doing all she could to hide her terror. There was something manic in the intensity of Armstrong’s gaze that truly frightened her. He was handsome but his features were already starting to show signs of debauched living. Fine red lines marked his cheeks and nose, and his eyes were bloodshot. “Besides, I can’t imagine you gentlemen would have anything to say to interest me.”
“Lady Felicity?” Peters glanced at Armstrong, anxiety in his expression. “Grantley’s doxy?”
Flick dealt him a haughty stare. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh,” Armstrong said, still gripping her wrist hand enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Where are my manners? Haven’t you two been introduced?” Without waiting for a response, he continued with an evil smirk. “Lady Felicity Forster, may I present my good friend, Lord Peters.”
Flick had to stop herself from automatically curtseying. “It’s been a pleasure but now let me go.”
“Certainly, once you’ve told us what we need to know.” Armstrong pulled her closer still, until their bodies touched. She was repulsed but knew better than to let it show. The powder in his hair caused her to sneeze, the sour smell clinging to his clothes made her stomach churn. “Tell us, my dear, how does your friend Grantley plan to defend my good friends Cuthbert and Baker?”
Flick managed a dismissive shake of her head. “How would I know? He’s hardly likely to discuss his strategy with me, nor am I especially interested.”
“Oh, I think he does a great deal more than merely talk to you.” Armstrong’s crude chuckle appeared to amuse Peters, who was staring at her with unmistakable lust in his squinting eyes. Something about him made her fear him far more than she did Armstrong. His unfortunate appearance had probably taught him that he’d never get what he desired through charm, and so he simply took. “I certainly would,” Armstrong added, his eyes roving insolently over her body.
“Since you ask, I consider it beneath him to even defend the rogues, and I’ve told him as much. If they committed those crimes, and it would seem there’s little doubt about that, then they deserve to feel the full force of the law.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Armstrong’s other arm came round Flick’s waist and pulled her hard against him, grinding his groin crudely against her stomach. “Tell me what I need to know or I’ll pass you over to Peters here. And believe me, that’s not an experience you’re likely to enjoy.”
* * *
Darius danced twice more and was thoroughly bored. He enjoyed some good conversation with one or two gentlemen but they all wanted to know about the Cuthbert case, and there was little he could tell them about that. He couldn’t do what a lot of the gentlemen did at these affairs and dispel his boredom by disappearing into the card room—he’d sworn off all games of chance. Were it not for Flick, he would have left by now and employed his time with more profitable pursuits.
At last it was almost time for supper but he couldn’t see Flick anywhere. Hardly surprising, given how crowded it was. Still, if she wasn’t with Leah, she would know where she was.
“Oh, I believe she excused herself for a moment,” Leah said, frowning. “Although, come to think of it, that was a while ago now.”
Only slightly concerned, Darius headed towards the ladies’ withdrawing room. She’d probably fallen into conversation and lost track of the time. He could hardly go in there and so stationed himself a discreet distance from the door. A short time later someone he knew emerged but the lady informed him that Flick was not inside. So where the devil was she?
He walked back towards the ballroom, thinking perhaps that they’d missed one another in crush. He passed a small salon and heard voices. A man’s voice that he recognized. His heart stalled when a woman’s responded in a voice he’d know anywhere. Armstrong and Flick? What in the name of Hades...
Without hesitation he opened the door and found Flick pressed up against Edward Armstrong, Peters watching them with a lustful, anticipatory expression.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Armstrong?” he roared, so angry that he could feel blood ringing in his ears. “Unhand the lady at once.”
With a smug smile Darius itched to knock off his face, Armstrong released Flick.
“Just having a private...er, conversation with the lady.” He smirked. “She seemed to be enjoying it.”
Flick moved to stand beside Darius. Because he knew her so well, he could see that she was terrified but to her credit, she was doing a good job of disguising the fact.
“It’s all right,” she said softly, placing a hand on his arm.
It was as though she sensed the overwhelming urge he felt to plant a facer right in the middle of Armstrong’s sneering countenance. Darius had never been so angry in his entire life and was obliged to focus his mind on what was important until the compulsion to deploy his fists eased. He saw daily proof of the devastating consequences of anger in his work. It was counter-productive and so he trained himself not to lose his temper.
He took several deep, quelling breaths, giving Armstrong and Peters the opportunity to leave the room. The desire to call Armstrong out was another impulse he couldn’t indulge and Armstrong well knew it. Darius wasn’t officially engaged to Flick and if she “chose” to put herself in such a situation, he
was unable to intervene. Hal could do so, of course, but then Flick’s behaviour would become public knowledge and her reputation would be ruined.
As soon as they were gone, he turned to Flick.
“Are you all right?” he asked through tightly clenched teeth.
“Yes, I think so.” But she still sank into the nearest chair. “Just a little shaken.”
“I suppose, having got nowhere with Nathbone, you saw those two and couldn’t resist questioning them, despite all my warnings against doing anything rash.” His anger was directed at her as much as at the two men. “How could you be so reckless, Flick?”
She leapt to her feet again. “And has it occurred to you that I might not have done any such thing? Why are you always so ready to find me at fault?”
“I know what I saw.” She might think that she was angry but when he thought of what could have happened to her had he not intervened, his anger easily outstripped hers. “And I know how hotheaded you can be. Armstrong would think nothing of despoiling you right here in the middle of a society ball, if for no reason other than to get back at me.”
“He wouldn’t have done that.” But her tone lacked conviction.
“Wouldn’t he?” Darius quirked a brow. “Peters most certainly would. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Darius, you’re angry with me.” She reached up and touched his arm. “But this time I’m guilty of nothing more than eavesdropping. I passed this room, the door was open and I heard them talking. Even you would have stopped to listen in such circumstances.”
Darius ground his teeth, aware that she was right but not ready to admit it. “Even so, you should have thought—”
“Do you wish to scold me, or would you prefer to know what I heard?”
“Tell me,” he said wearily.
“Peters was worried about what you might know and Armstrong assured him that no one could touch them.”
“How were you caught?”
Flick twisted her lips. “I knocked a vase off a pedestal.”
Darius expelled a long breath. “I feel ready to commit murder for the way they treated you.” He noticed her rubbing her wrist and picked up her hand. Red welts surrounded it, presumably where Armstrong had grabbed her. He almost exploded with renewed anger. “That does it!”
Beguiling the Barrister Page 16