Though she had tried to deny it, even to herself, she had dared to hope that eventually he would come to love her. She was such a dreamer, a weakness that had plagued her all of her life.
"Your Grace?" Richard said, his tone surprisingly gentle, perhaps even teasing, as he bowed before her. "Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance?"
Without waiting for a reply, the arrogant man slipped his hand around her elbow and led her onto the dance floor, his arm encircling her waist as the first trembling notes of a waltz filled the air. The sensuous melody seemed to surround her, seemed to ease her unbearable tension, at least for the moment, or perhaps it was her awareness of the man holding her close. One hand pressing low on her spine. His enticing scent of amber and jasmine conjuring memories better left in the darkness.
"You do realize," he said, his deep, rumbling voice wrapping around her. "That you are supposed to flatter me while we dance. Strictly speaking, it is proper dance floor etiquette."
His unexpected flirtation brought a startled smile to her lips, pushing anguished thoughts and painful plans into the distance, until only this moment remained. "I believe you are mistaken, sir. It is you who are supposed to flatter me ""
"Agreed. I shall make an attempt at it. But mind you, I don't usually do the flattering. I receive it."
"Oh, I do not doubt that for a moment." Leah glanced around the ballroom. She could feel the burning jealousy of the women staring with unabashed longing at her husband. "I am the envy of all the girls around me ""
His lips curved into a smile, infused with the same boyish charm she remembered from when she had foolishly con fronted him in this very house a mere two days ago. Now she was his wife!
He was playacting, of course, for the benefit of those around them. Still, his teasing bantering felt strange, somehow comfortable, as if they could have been friends had they met under different circumstances.
"Should I compliment the cut of your coat?" She fluttered her lashes, dropped her voice to what she hoped was an enticing whisper, though she strongly suspected her strangled laughter ruined the effect. It was shockingly bold, and so contrary to her usual reserve, but it felt so fun, as if she were a carefree girl again, back before her sister went missing and her father betrayed her. "Or the fall of your neck cloth? Or the decidedly wicked way your raven hair curls rakishly over your brow?"
He laughed, and her heart raced ahead of her breathing, beating in tune to the spiraling dance. Words were lost, her thoughts drifting away, all of her senses centered on her overwhelming attraction to this man, his pleasing scent, his much larger hand wrapped around hers, the heat rising from his skin and his devilish grin that rendered her spellbound.
Until the music finally ended.
He held her a moment longer, as if he were reluctant to release her. Then he stepped back and offered his arm.
"You did not do your duty, sir," Leah tried to tease.
One brow arched up. "How so?"
"You did not pay justice to my vanity."
"I will attend to your vanity later," he promised as he raised her gloved hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. "When you grant me leave to kiss you again."
The sensual promise of his words sent a searing heat though her veins. Unable to breathe, the tension too much to bear, Leah forced her gaze off to his left, only to notice a woman draped in shimmering primrose silk slinking toward them.
"There you are, St. Austin," the woman murmured in a breathless whisper, running her fan down his arm. She angled her chin toward her shoulder so that her autumn red hair swept sensuously over her brow. A seductive pout curved her rouge-stained lips. "Are you not going to introduce me to your wife?"
Where moments before there had been teasing and laughter, now his jaw grew tight, his features hardening before Leah's eyes until his face was completely devoid of emotion.
This was the cold, arrogant duke who wrapped his hand around Leah's elbow and hauled her to his side. A moment passed as if he were considering the notion, then he made the introductions, choosing his words with exquisite civility to indicate Leah was the one bestowing her honor by deigning to notice Lady Margaret Montague, a woman of inferior rank. Leah would have found the stiff formality laughable, if it did not cause her so much pain.
"Your Grace," Lady Montague murmured, giving the slightest nod of her regal chin in Leah's general direction while moving so close to Richard that her skirts flowed around his ankles.
Geoffrey appeared at Leah's side. "Might I have the honor of dancing with my most beautiful new sister?"
"It would be my pleasure," Leah said quickly, the swift heat running through her veins vying with a sudden desire to rip Lady Margaret Montague's luscious red hair out of her head.
Who was this woman with her clinging hands and her palpable animosity? A sudden suspicion brought a chill to Leah's skin, a churning low in her belly. Everything had happened so swiftly. Without warning or time to get to know one another.
Was Richard in love with this woman? Would he have wed her had Leah's father not interfered with his treachery?
Leah pressed her hand to her stomach to ease the ache building beneath her ribs. Somehow she managed to keep the smile on her lips as Geoffrey led her away. She would not suc cumb to her shattered emotions in front of these people, all waiting with barely restrained glee for her to blunder and fall.
"Do not worry about her," Geoffrey said, as if reading her mind. "She is nothing to Richard."
Leah did not believe it. Were it true, Geoffrey would not have felt compelled to remark upon it. She watched Richard as he conversed with Margaret on the side of the ballroom. Lady Montague was tall, slender, and coolly self-possessed. She belonged in this world, and from the way she was clinging to Richard, she obviously thought that he belonged with her.
The sudden stinging in her eyes warned Leah she needed to make her escape. "Would you mind very much if we did not dance?" she said, dragging her gaze away from Richard, only to find Geoffrey watching her, his brown eyes soft with concern.
"Are you unwell? You do look a trifle peaked"
"Not at all." She forced a bright smile. "I simply feel the need for a breath of air. Truly. That is all."
"These events can be tediously overwhelming," he said as he steered her toward the French windows, through which she could see a terrace lit by brightly colored lanterns. "But never fear. You will get used to it. Shall I fetch you a lemonade?"
Leah nodded. She searched for a glimpse of Richard through the blur of unfamiliar faces. Her smile never faltered, but a heavy ache settled in her chest as she found him, still conversing with Lady Montague. She would not have to worry about getting used to these tedious events.
After tonight, she would not be here.
With practiced ease, Richard assumed a casual indifference to his stance that belied the rage seething inside him. He waited for Geoffrey to lead Leah far enough away so as not to overhear this conversation. He might not have wanted to marry Leah, but that no longer signified. She was his wife, and he'd be damned if he let anyone treat her with disrespect.
He had not even seen the danger approaching. One moment he was drowning in clear green eyes sprinkled with gold dust, lost in the fantasy of sweeping Leah into his arms and dragging her to bed. The next, Lady Margaret Montague was sliding her fan along his arm. Were Margaret any one of the other guests, Richard might even have felt grateful for the interruption, which allowed reason and sanity to restore his mind, if not his body.
Before disappearing into the crowd, Leah cast one last glance at the woman edging closer to Richard's side. Her expressive eyes narrowed slightly, her brows drawn together, not in anger, but more a puzzled bewilderment.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded of Margaret, keeping his voice low, his features calm and controlled.
The lovely widow lowered her chin toward her shoulder. She titled her lips in the merest hint of a smile, a pose meant to allure and intrigue him. "Dance with me, darli
ng."
"Do not toy with me, Margaret" Richard plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. "I thought you understood discretion, yet you flaunt yourself before my wife? Touching my arm? Murmuring throatily? Were I a different, less honorable man, I would be tempted to throttle you"
She fluttered her fan, then drew it down her neck, an obvious ploy to drag his gaze to her overripe breasts barely concealed by the outrageously low neckline of her dress. "I am sorry, Richard, truly, I am. It is just that I miss you"
He watched her hazel eyes fill with tears, and he gave an exasperated sigh. Over the month of their association, he had learned what a talented actress she could be when it suited her needs. Obviously now, it suited her needs.
But to what purpose? After all, he had broken off their arrangement. "I never made you any promises. Nor you, me. Ours was an affair of convenience, a fact to which we both agreed when you first invited me into your bed. Not to mention, the discretion" Upon which he had insisted.
Though Margaret, as a widow, possessed more freedom to take lovers as she saw fit, Richard had suffered a strong aversion to finding himself suddenly trapped into marriage.
Such brutal irony. If Margaret only knew.
The tears disappeared as quickly as they arrived. "You said you would never marry anyone, yet you show up tonight with a wife on your arm. What happened, Richard? Get caught with your breeches 'round your knees?"
His hand tightened on his glass until he thought it might shatter. "Let me make something perfectly clear, Margaret. I expect you treat my wife with all due respect"
Her sudden loss of color showed she did not mistake the cold menace in his tone. As he swallowed the last of his champagne, he cursed his own stupidity. Given the haste of his marriage, he had known gossip would run rampant. Now it appeared speculation would run from the merely tawdry to the viciously depraved.
He would have to play the besotted fool.
Having seen Leah's earthy beauty, the wolves of the ton would have no difficulty believing Richard's lust had overcome his reason. As he searched for sight of her yet again through the crowd, as the heat of desire surged through his veins, he stifled a disgusted sigh. He was doing well enough with that plan already-and he wasn't even trying.
"You are despicable. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, I do" More so lately than usual, he thought. Ever since he had met Leah, his behavior seemed better suited to a dastardly rogue than a finely bred English gentleman.
"I will try to forgive you," Margaret said, fluttering her lashes. She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "And if you come to me tonight, I'll endeavor to keep you amused"
And he knew from experience that she could. But to his surprise, he wasn't even tempted. "Do not waste your tricks on me. Save them for your next conquest"
"There won't be a `next conquest.' You're all I want, all I need. Your marriage needn't make any difference to you and me."
"You sell yourself short, madam. You should cast your lures about you for a husband"
I did cast my lures ... toward you. But it seems I didn't have the proper bait. Oh, for heaven's sake," Margaret said, waving her fan before her face. "Do not glare at me. I admit it. I knew you did not want to marry me. I wanted you then. I still want you now. I see no reason we cannot continue as we were"
He searched the room for Leah. She was walking beside Geoffrey, laughing at something he said, and the beauty of her smile, so unaffected and pure, called to him like a siren's song. Bewitching, beguiling ... dangerous. "No, it is over."
"Who is she?" Margaret asked, dragging Richard's gaze from his wife. "Where did you meet? How long have you known her?"
"Why could you possibly want to know?"
"Curiosity? Jealousy? I imagine any woman would want to know about her replacement. You owe me that much, at least."
"No, I do not. We agreed" Margaret was a problem that could wait for tomorrow. Tonight, he had much more pressing issues with which to contend. Such as what to do with his lovely bride. He passed his glass off to a servant. "I bid you adieu. I must find my wife."
"You do that," Margaret snarled as he walked away. "But you will come back to me, Richard. I promise you that"
Any hope Leah had harbored for a moment of privacy while Geoffrey fetched her lemonade disappeared as soon as she stepped onto the terrace and saw the shape of a man lurk ing in the shadows. The torches reflecting off the tawny gold in his hair were too far away to reveal his face.
She glanced around the promenade. It was deserted. The gardens beyond covered in darkness. Before she could turn and run for the house, a rose-scented breeze swept up. The clouds pushed away from the moon. Hazy light spilled over the terrace.
"Alexander?" She reached behind her, needing the solid support of the balustrade to steady her knees. "Is that you?"
He nodded, as if he didn't trust himself to speak.
A shiver ran over her skin. She was so cold, deep inside, but not from the breeze. She knew she should speak, but she could not find any words. His features were tight. White lines digging into his brow and around his mouth ravaged his flawless skin. His sunny blue eyes were wide and brimming with the pain of betrayal. She had thought only her heart was in danger from her father's perfidy. Had Alex loved her after all?
"I returned mere moments ago," he finally said as he approached her, his movements stiff, tightly controlled. "I went to your father's house straightaway. He told me something I can scarcely credit. Is it true? Have you married him?"
Her heart wrenched so painfully, she was surprised it still beat, surprised her breath still moved in and out of her tightly clenched throat. She did not want to add to his pain, but he deserved the truth from her lips, rather than the lies her father would tell him. "Yes, I am married."
"I will kill him," he growled, turning for the house.
Leah grabbed his arms. "Alex, do not be a fool."
"Is that what I am to you?" He stared at her through wide eyes, his face ghostly white in the pale moonlight. "A fool?"
"Oh, that is not what I meant, and you know it," she cried, turning toward the balustrade. She gripped the wall until she could feel the cold from the stone seeping through her gloves. She would not weep. She would not add the burden of her tears to his pain. He walked up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath sweeping the back of her neck.
"What happened, Leah? Tell me."
His voice was so soft, so gentle, urging her to share her worries and fears, but she could not. It was too late for him to help her now. The truth would only hurt him more.
Besides, if Richard agreed to her plans, her reputation would be ruined, tainting any and all who sought her acquaintance, even through friendship. "There is not much to tell. My father made all the arrangements. I found myself betrothed and married so quickly my head is still spinning."
"And you ... agreed?" He stumbled over the words. He grabbed her arms, spun her around. His grip hurt, but she bit back her cry, which would only bring the gossiping hordes down upon them.
She pushed her fists against his chest until he lifted his hands and backed away. "My father was pleased with the match"
"And you? Were you pleased with the match?"
"What choice did I have?" Leah cried, choking on the words. "A daughter's duty is to do her father's bidding."
"That is not what I asked you. Did you want to marry him?"
I don't even know him-"
"That is not what I asked"
"You do not understand."
"You wanted to marry him, didn't you?" His chest heaved as he sucked in his breath. His gaze raked over her face. "Did you never love me, then? Was your tender regard a lark to keep me dangling on a string, waiting for a better catch to come along? A mere baronet's son wasn't good enough for you? You needed a title I couldn't give you?" He glared at her in cold, hard contempt. "What? No response?"
Leah knew his words sprang from his pain, but they cut like a dagger t
hrust deep in her heart. "I never kept you dan gling on a string. Until this moment, I did not know you cared for me as anything more than a sister. You have ever been my dearest friend, Alex. For you to accuse me thus is cruel."
"Cruel?" he sneered, rocking back on his heels. "I'll tell you what is cruel. To discover the woman you've loved your entire life is nothing more than a lie, that is cruel! To discover her sweet smile and tender words were a facade to hide a calculating bitch, that is cruel!"
She did not speak. There were no words to say. She looked out over the gardens, at the shadowy plants, indistinct in the darkness. She gripped the balustrade, thankful for the solid support to steady her knees as she listened to the steady breeze rustling through the potted plants on the terrace.
A sudden burst of laughter drew her attention to the house, to the man standing before her, glaring at her as if she were Medusa, with serpents slithering out of her hair.
Her chest ached and her throat burned. She drew a ragged breath. "As you have ever been my dearest friend, I forgive you your harsh words. Now, I think you should leave, before we hurt each other more"
A long, tense moment passed before he spun on his heels and disappeared into the night. She closed her eyes, rubbed her forefingers over her brow. She couldn't remember a time when they had not been friends, introduced by their mothers when they were just small through a never-ending round of social calls. Even after her mother had died, and in the face of her father's growing animosity, his quiet support had never wavered.
Now, he hated her. She wanted to cry. She wanted to drop to the floor and weep like a babe, but her tears were locked up inside her, where they would remain.
The night sky stretched out before her, the stars barely visible in the midnight tapestry. All Leah could see was the fathomless depths of Richard's eyes, their smoky darkness haunting her now, even as they would haunt her forever.
A Dangerous Man Page 6