Soon they arrived at the Jackson’s ball, one of the most coveted events of the season. The size of the mansion took Emma aback.
“Lord Jackson married an American heiress some years ago. Her father is even wealthier than Adolphus Vandimer,” the viscountess whispered in Emma’s ear. “He gave the mansion to them upon their marriage. Can you imagine how many servants it takes to maintain the place?”
The practical statement made Emma smile. The viscountess patted her arm. “Let us see who decided to make an appearance.”
After greeting their hostess, who seemed to notice nothing unusual about Emma, they entered the spacious ballroom.
“Oh, my.” Emma could only gawk at the amazing décor.
The entire expanse was decorated to mimic Egypt. The columns along both sides were covered with stone carved with hieroglyphics. The wall sconces were torches, causing a smoky haze to linger in the air. Two massive pharaohs painted in gold and black stood guard at the end of the ballroom, nearly reaching the ceiling. Gold drapes graced the alcoves and potted ferns were placed strategically to provide privacy.
The viscountess leaned close. “They traveled to Egypt three years ago and fell in love with the place. It might have been easier to move there and enjoy the real thing rather than dragging half of it back here.”
“It’s quite...impressive.” The money it must’ve taken to complete the ballroom staggered her. “Amazing.”
“That’s one word for it. I’ve heard Lady Jackson has grown weary of this theme and wants something new, but her husband refuses to change it after all the money they’ve spent decorating it.”
Emma could only shake her head. The ball gowns and evening attire seemed almost out of place amidst the Egyptian backdrop.
The viscountess saw an acquaintance, and they eased through the crowd toward her. Emma scanned the guests, then stopped abruptly when she realized for whom she was searching. Her mission would be much easier without him here, she reminded herself again. She planted a smile on her face, determined to make progress toward finding a potential husband.
Within moments, someone asked her to dance and the evening passed in a blur. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She met so many people she couldn’t possibly remember each of their names. Some were quite pleasant and treated her with kindness and accepted her presence without question. Others were rude though never within the viscountess’s hearing.
Everyone seemed to know and like Viscountess Weston. That came as no surprise to Emma. She was clever, wise, and witty with a core of steel underneath it all. Without her, Emma would never have managed the evening.
“That’s a unique shade of rose.”
Emma turned to see Catherine, Michael’s fiancé, at her side. She couldn’t help but look for Michael as well, but he was nowhere to be found. “Why thank you.” Though once again, the woman’s comment hadn’t been a compliment, Emma decided to act as though it was.
“I hope you are well this evening,” Catherine said to the viscountess.
“I am. Thank you.” The older woman turned away to continue speaking with one of her acquaintances, leaving Emma to wonder whether or not she cared for her grandson’s fiancé.
Emma didn’t blame her. The woman was rather disagreeable. Why Michael had chosen her remained a mystery. Though her father was wealthy, Michael seemed to have no problem with his finances. Surely he didn’t need her for her dowry.
Catherine’s eyes narrowed and her lips tightened with her displeasure at the viscountess’s rebuff.
Unfortunately, that left Emma searching for a congenial topic. “Wonderful ball, isn’t it?”
She glared at Emma then purposely dropped her gaze to Emma’s low neckline. “You seem to be enjoying it. Next time, try not to make your search for a husband quite so obvious. They’ll see how desperate you are and avoid you at all costs.”
Her words stung and heat filled Emma’s cheeks. Though she knew her gown was no different than most of the women here, Miss Vandimer included, her comment still struck a nerve.
Before she could think of a retort, Catherine moved away to greet someone else.
Cheeks burning, Emma wanted nothing more than to escape the ball, at least for a few moments. From the crowd, to the ostentatious décor, to the conversation, she’d had enough. With a quick word to the viscountess, she eased through the throng, trying to calm herself. Why had she allowed Catherine’s words to bother her so much?
She made her way to the edge of the ballroom, hoping to find a place amid the potted ferns to escape into an empty alcove. Instead, she discovered a corridor that led to a room where guests were playing cards.
Already the sounds of the music and people eased. The smoke from the torches had not reached here. She drew a deep breath, at least as much as her tight corset would allow.
Emma paused at the doorway of the room to view the activity. She’d enjoyed playing Whist but it had been some time since she’d done so. At one of her posts, the lady of the house had often invited her to play in the evenings when her husband was gone and after the children had been abed. She’d become quite adept at several games, but her favorite was Piquet.
Only a few ladies graced the otherwise male-dominated room. Several tables had games, some players more serious than others.
One man looked up from his cards, his piercing gaze holding hers. He was a distinguished looking older man but appeared fit for his age. His blue-grey eyes held amused intelligence with a hint of hardness underneath.
With a comment to the other players at his table, he threw down his cards and rose. Surely, he hadn’t stopped playing because of her arrival. Uncertain what his intention was, Emma shifted her gaze to the other players in the room. She was quite certain she’d never met the man, and well knew it would be highly inappropriate for him to introduce himself.
Yet that seemed to be exactly what he intended.
He came to stand before her and bowed. “My apologies for my forward behavior, but I had to meet you.”
Emma wasn’t certain what to do or say. Speaking with him could very well ruin her reputation, yet it seemed rude to walk away.
A presence at her elbow caught her attention. Lord Tagart cleared his throat. “Good evening, Miss Grisby.”
Relief filled her at the lord’s presence as she returned his greeting.
He glanced warily at the stranger then said, “May I present Mr. Adolphus Vandimer?”
She looked in surprise at the man as Lord Tagart completed the introduction. Catherine’s father? She could see the resemblance in the shape of his eyes as she studied him closer.
Mr. Vandimer took her hand before she’d had a chance to offer it. “You are stunning, if I may say so.”
Between his intense stare and the compliment, she was uncomfortable. He could be her father, yet he looked at her as though he wanted to devour her. There could be no denying the heat in his gaze.
Memories of the unwanted attention of her former employer popped into her head. With a polite smile, she took a step back and tugged her hand out of his grasp. “Thank you.”
“Do you play?” He gestured toward the tables and at last took his gaze off her.
“On occasion.”
“Perhaps you and Lord Tagart would care to join us.”
Emma looked back across the room. There were no empty places. She glanced at Lord Tagart to see what he thought of the offer, hoping he might think of an excuse to depart.
“If the lady would like to then, of course, we will join you.”
Irritation flickered through her. Yet how could she expect Lord Tagart to read her mind? He barely knew her.
Mr. Vandimer took her hand and tucked it under his elbow. Somehow the gesture felt far too familiar, yet so smooth she didn’t have time to protest before he drew her across the room with Lord Tagart in tow.
Her unwanted companion returned to the table where he’d previously sat. “My friends wish to play.”
Two of the other players quickly
discarded their cards in the middle of a hand and rose, much to Emma’s dismay. They disregarded her protests and drew back from the table.
Mr. Vandimer held a chair next to his for Emma and smiled at her.
“There was no need to interrupt the game,” she said, holding his gaze. While the others at the table seemed to jump to do his bidding, she had no intention of doing so. He held no power over her.
“Oh, but there was. I needed to play with you.”
The way he quietly uttered the words, the underlying meaning could not be ignored. Prepared to leave, she turned only to find Lord Tagart held a chair for her, obviously prepared to play.
“What game do you prefer?” Mr. Vandimer asked.
“Not this one.”
He laughed, not the least offended at her response. “Then we will play whatever you’d like.”
Lord Tagart held her gaze, an amused smile on his lips. “What do you choose?”
Unbidden, an image of Michael came into mind. He is who I choose, she thought. What was wrong with her? He was not an option.
“Shall we play Piquet?” she asked as she took her seat.
Mr. Vandimer gestured for another man to join them, a new deck of cards was delivered, and the game began.
No matter that Emma felt as though she were in over her head. She thought back to what Michael had told her. Why not enjoy the evening? And at the moment, that included a card game far away from the crowded ballroom.
~*~
Michael scanned the crush at the ball, searching for Emma and his grandmother. He hadn’t intended to arrive so late, but he’d met with Ashbury to review the limited results of their investigation of the warehouses leased to Leon Smith, the name the professor sometimes used.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
That was what their efforts had brought them thus far. The whole investigation was maddening. One step forward, two steps back.
He spotted his grandmother amidst the throng along the edge of the dance floor and made his way toward her. But Emma was nowhere in sight. He searched the dancers as he walked but didn’t find her there either.
“Good evening.” He kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “Are you beating off those asking you to dance with a stick?”
His grandmother laughed. “Some refuse to take no for an answer.”
“Good thing I arrived when I did. I carry a larger stick than you.”
“I’m pleased you’re here. Emma stepped away and hasn’t yet returned. Perhaps you could search for her?”
“Weston.” Catherine said his name as part greeting and part order. She took his elbow before he offered it, causing irritation to trickle through him. “Where have you been?”
The pouty look she gave him caused a tick to form in his jaw. At times, he found her behavior quite annoying. “Business matters.” He patted her hand. “I’m here now.”
“Just in time to dance with me.” She stepped toward the floor, obviously intending that he follow her.
“I would enjoy nothing more than a dance with you, but first I must locate Miss Grisby.”
“Whatever for?” Catherine’s scowl amused him. At least, he told himself it was amusement.
“My grandmother is in need of her.” He lifted Catherine’s fingers off his arm. “I’ll be back shortly and then we’ll dance.”
“If your schedule permits it,” she said with a bite to her tone. She turned away to speak with someone nearby.
He knew she’d quickly find another man with whom to dance. Funny how the idea of her in another man’s arms didn’t bother him in the least. That was one of the reasons he’d thought she’d make the perfect wife.
“I’ll see if I can locate Miss Grisby,” he told his grandmother, then moved toward the end of the ballroom.
His height allowed him a good view, but still he couldn’t see her. Wondering if she’d needed the ladies’ dressing room, he moved in that direction.
As he walked past the card playing room, he caught sight of the back of a lady with dark hair and an elegant neck sitting at a table. A familiar neck. She turned her head and brought Michael to a halt.
Not only was he surprised to see Emma in the card room, he was shocked to see with whom she was playing.
Adolphus Vandimer. His soon to be father-in-law. What the hell?
The man was a wolf. There was no other way to describe him. He was relentless and cared little for proper social behavior. Perhaps that was where his daughter had learned her social skills.
Watching Emma in his company made Michael see red. He should’ve warned Emma about men like Vandimer. They were to be avoided at all costs.
He strode forward, intent on taking Emma as far away as possible.
“Good evening,” he greeted the table. He needed to speak with Lord Tagart as well. Why the lord had allowed Emma to play with Vandimer was beyond him.
“Weston.” Vandimer glanced away from Emma to greet Michael. “What has you interrupting our game?”
The question was rude, but so was Michael’s interruption. “I’m afraid I must request Miss Grisby’s presence. My grandmother is in need of her.”
“Of course.” Emma set down her cards and rose, her composed expression giving Michael no hint as to her emotions. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.”
Vandimer reached out to take her hand, preventing her from stepping away from the table. He glared at Michael. “Surely you can see to whatever it is that your grandmother needs. Or perhaps my daughter can. Miss Grisby was winning, and I quite enjoy watching her.”
“Unfortunately, I’m told it’s something only Miss Grisby can resolve.” Michael took Emma’s free hand and placed it on his arm. “If you’ll excuse us.”
While he had no desire to anger Vandimer, he couldn’t allow Emma to remain in his company, even with Lord Tagart nearby. The other lord was no match for Vandimer and could not provide adequate protection for her.
Emma said her goodbyes and accompanied him out of the card room. “Is your grandmother well?”
“She is fine, but you were not.”
“Excuse me?”
“You would be wise to keep your distance from Vandimer.”
“Need I remind you that you’re marrying his daughter?”
“Which is exactly why I can warn you.” He pulled her into one of the alcoves that offered some privacy. “I know the man all too well. He is no one to be trifled with.”
“I was not trifling with him. He simply invited me to play cards.”
“Invited?” He knew Vandimer rarely asked anyone for anything. Instead, he took it. While Michael might admire that in the business world, he did not appreciate it when it came to his personal life. He eased Emma against the wall in the back corner of the alcove, hoping for more privacy.
“Well, perhaps demanded is a better term.” Her eyes widened when Michael moved closer.
Once again, he had to appreciate that she no longer wore spectacles. Those brown eyes drew him into their depths but revealed little.
“His wife is dead.” He knew his words were blunt, but he wanted her to understand the risk she took by even speaking with him.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He is not. Rumors abound about his exploits with women.”
“He’s old enough to be my father. I hardly think—”
Michael drew her closer. “He looked at you as if he was trying to decide where to nibble first.”
Her eyes widened even more.
Unable to resist, he leaned in, her sweet scent catching him off guard. Christ, no wonder Vandimer wanted her. What man could look at her and not? Especially if they caught her sweet scent.
Unfortunately, that position gave him an excellent vantage of her neckline. The swell of her breasts taunted him, begging him to touch. Spellbound, he could only stare, his mouth going dry at the thought of what lay hidden beneath her gown.
As though realizing where he looked, she drew a deep breath. The movement proved more than he could
take. Gently, he traced a finger along her collarbone, then down toward that soft expanse. “I must say, I like your new gown.”
His gaze caught hers, tangling in the heat he saw there. No, he berated himself, even as he lowered his head to kiss her. Her lips were hot beneath his. They parted ever so slightly, just enough to invite him in. His tongue danced along the seam of her lips, then dove in.
Desire speared through him, hot and sharp. She went straight to his head like a fine brandy, heating his belly in the process. Again, he allowed his fingers to trail from the softness of her neck down toward the even softer hint of her breasts. More than anything, he wanted to feel the swell of her breasts—needed to just as much as he needed air.
She gasped at his touch but instead of drawing back, she stepped closer. How was he to resist her when she responded like that?
“Emma,” he said her name on a moan. What was he going to do with her? He was engaged. He had a plan that made sound business sense. This sort of passion might be in his blood, but that didn’t mean he should indulge in it. Emma Grisby was not for him. Not when she ignited him like a torch.
But, Christ, he wanted her so badly he ached.
As though reading his mind, she jerked back, breaking their kiss. Her breasts rose with her breath as she moved his fingers away.
“I thought we agreed this was not wise.” Her husky voice only made him want to drag her back into his arms.
Instead, he adjusted her gown then ran his thumb against her lower lip. “Indeed we did. Somehow, I forgot.”
“Next time you attempt to rescue me, perhaps you need to determine if the alternative you suggest is truly better.”
Those brown eyes of hers held his for a long moment before she left him in the alcove, trying to think of things that would ease the tightness in his trousers.
Thank goodness Catherine didn’t have this effect on him. If he could only remember feeling a lack of passion toward her was a good thing.
CHAPTER TEN
“Emma Grisby is the key. I’m certain of it.” Ashbury pushed back his chair from the desk in his office at The Barbican, the gaming hell he owned.
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