She shrugged. “It’s where I’m comfortable.”
“Maybe you should step out of your comfort sometimes.”
She pursed her lips and looked away, and Ross knew he had stepped across a line into a place that she was not comfortable with. Apparently, they could speak openly in his study but nowhere else.
She nodded toward a clutch of men across the ballroom floor. “Lord Clifton is having an affair with Lady Roberts.”
He looked at the man in question. Ross was not well acquainted with Lord Clifton but had heard that he was a conservative in Parliament. “Truly? How do you know this?”
“Lord Clifton keeps looking over at Lady Roberts with a certain”—she coughed—“light in his eyes. Lady Roberts refuses to look at him, but her color is high, and she is waving her fan more vigorously than necessary.”
Ross studied the two, his gaze jumping from one to the other, seeing what Sara described. “Huh,” he said. “Remarkable.”
Sara tipped her head to the trio of older gentlemen in the opposite corner. “They are coming to some sort of agreement. I don’t know what they’re discussing, but two of them are passionate about it and trying to convince the third to come to their side.”
“The prime minister, Derby,” Ross said.
Sara looked at him in surprise. “How do you know this?”
“Lord Ertel is a fanatical conservative. No doubt he and his crony Lord Simmons have joined forces to convince Lord Johnstown, who is on the fence, to vote for Derby. Personally, I think Palmerston is going to become the next prime minister.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“What? Did you not think I knew about current events?”
“I guess I never thought about it.”
He snorted. But truth be told, he was enjoying himself immensely. Far more than if he had been dancing with the many ladies who looked at him anxiously, hoping he would ask them to dance. They were so desperate to land a duke that they forgot they had a tongue in their head, or their mamas had warned them not to say anything that would offend him. Sara had no problem offending him, and he liked that.
“Palmerston, huh?” she asked, almost to herself.
“I think it’s inevitable now that the Whigs won Parliament. Derby’s following isn’t strong enough to give him the votes he needs.”
She looked at him, her eyes alight in interest. “But how does this affect what is happening in India?”
Ross was rendered speechless. India was a main topic of conversation in the palace but not as much in society and definitely not with a woman in society. He was astonished that Sara had put the two together.
“The East India Company has been disbanded, but there are still uprisings among the native population of India. I don’t think that will change under Palmerston. Not until India accepts that they are under British rule.”
“Will you return to India then?” she asked quietly, her look sober.
Ross hesitated. That had been his plan all along, but now…Now he wasn’t so certain. “That will be up the to queen,” he said, sidestepping a direct answer because he didn’t know anymore what he was going to do.
Her shrewd gaze pierced him, as if she were trying to read his true thoughts. He stared back, his mind abandoning any thoughts of India and centering on more immediate things.
Her hair had been curled into golden ringlets that picked up the candlelight and burnished them a myriad of colors ranging from yellow to red. Her brown eyes held far too much intelligence. Was she truly happy living so far from London with only her father as company? She’d mentioned friends, like the Blackbournes, but what else did she have? Such a small town couldn’t feed the intelligence in those eyes.
“Lady Penelope Grafton,” she said.
Startled out of his thoughts, Ross focused on his surroundings. Whatever Sara Emerson chose to do with her life wasn’t his business. If she said she was happy in her small town with her close friends, then who was he to say she was wrong?
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Lady Penelope Grafton. She has her sights set on becoming your duchess.”
“She does?” Who the hell was Lady Penelope Grafton?
“Don’t look now,” Sara warned in a harsh whisper. “She keeps looking over here. If her glares were daggers, I would be dead beside you.”
Despite her warning, Ross looked over just as a young woman looked toward him. She was attractive, with blond hair and a fair complexion. Her gown was of the highest fashion. She looked familiar, but Ross didn’t recall being introduced to her. For all he knew, she could be the nicest, kindest person in the room. But she wasn’t Sara, and that was a mark against her. Her cheeks flamed red, and she instantly looked away, but not before there was a glint of triumph in her eyes and a fleeting smile of conquest.
Sara groaned. “You’ve done it now. She thinks you’re interested. Mark my words, she will find a way to be introduced, and you will be hooked.”
“Not likely. She is far too young.”
“She is of marriageable age.”
He turned to face Sara fully, preferring to look upon her rather than Lady Penelope. “How do you know all of this? You claim not to have been in society for two years.”
“I’ve been receiving visitors with your mother. Lady Penelope and her mother are repeats.”
He raised a brow, thoroughly intrigued and thoroughly enjoying himself in the corner of the room, sitting in a chair normally reserved for chaperones. “Repeats?”
“They visit often, she and her mother. I’ve seen them twice, and every time Lady Penelope sits in your drawing room, she looks around with this glint in her eye that she thinks no one notices. She’ll redecorate the moment she gets the chance.”
“She would need the opportunity to redecorate, and I’m not inclined to give her that.”
“You’ve not even met her yet.”
“It makes no difference.”
“Well, there is always Lady Charlotte Prentice.”
“Please don’t tell me she has also set her sights on becoming my duchess.”
“I don’t believe you realize how important your title is to these girls, Your Grace.”
“Ross.”
Sara grinned up at him, and it fair took his breath away. “Ross,” she said.
“I feel like a damned stallion,” he grumbled, looking away because staring at her grin was like looking into the sun. “Only good for breeding. Excuse my language.”
“That is the game one plays when one is a duke.”
“What about you?” He made a point to look around at the men in the room. “Surely there is an eligible bachelor suited for you.” The words tasted like paste in his mouth, but he desperately wanted to redirect the conversation away from him, however distasteful this new conversation was.
“I don’t think so.” The smile and laughter left her voice, and she looked down to smooth her skirts.
“Oh, I’m certain of it.”
“Ross,” she warned.
He nodded toward a young buck laughing with a group of friends. “Him.”
“I think not.” She sniffed and looked away.
“You didn’t even look at him.”
“I don’t need to.”
“What’s wrong with him? What has he done to you?”
“Nothing. I’m not in the market for a husband.”
“So it’s all right for you to pick my wife, but I can’t pick your suitor?” He felt mixed emotions at her comment. He was relieved that she was not in the market for a husband but also saddened. Sara needed to get away from a father who was stealing her youth and her freedom and a mother who didn’t seem to care about her at all. Sara needed to find a man who put her needs before anyone else’s and who loved her unconditionally.
“I wasn’t picking your wife,” she said. “I was merely pointing out who would like to become your wife. I’ve never met the young man you pointed out.”
“And I’ve never met the ladies Penelope and Charlotte.”
“Your problem, Lady Sara, is that you are hiding in the shadows. You need to get out of the shadows and come into the light.”
Her eyes widened and her face paled. “I’m perfectly fine where I am, thank you.”
He offered her his hand. “Dance with me.”
She stared at his proffered hand and licked her lips. He wanted to groan at the action. He knew the taste of those lips, the feel of that tongue on his, and damn him, but he wanted to experience that again.
“Pardon me?” she whispered.
“Dance with me,” he said softly. “You are far too beautiful to hide in the shadows.”
“Don’t do this, Ross.” She looked at him with frightened eyes.
He was pushing her past where she was comfortable, but he wanted her to dance just one time. With him.
He wanted everyone to see how beautiful she was.
He wanted to hold her in his arms, and this was the only acceptable way to do that.
He arched a brow. “Ask you to dance or call you beautiful?”
She glared at him. “You should ask Lady Penelope to dance.”
“I’m asking you.”
She looked around. He was well aware that people were beginning to stare, her biggest fear, and he knew he was the worst sort of person because he was using her fear to his advantage. All so he could hold her in his arms.
She lifted her chin, shot him a venomous look, and put her hand in his to follow him out to the dance floor. All he could think about was the warmth of her hand and how it would feel if they weren’t wearing gloves.
“You picked a waltz,” she hissed.
“And?” He turned and placed his arm around her waist. She put her hand in his and her other hand on his shoulder. Even though she was clearly uncomfortable and not relaxed, for Ross it all felt right.
“How did we go from watching the crowd to dancing?” she asked with a grimace.
“Smile, or people will think I’m pinching you.” She pasted on a smile and Ross chuckled. “Now they think you want to bite me.”
“You are not amusing.”
“You are stiff as a board.”
“People are watching.”
“Let them watch. Look up at me. Sara,” he said in a warning growl when she didn’t look up. “Look at me.”
Her gaze met his, and suddenly there was only Sara and the music. Nothing but the feel of her hand on his shoulder. The sway of her hips beneath his hand. Even the brush of her skirts against his leg was arousing. If he wasn’t careful, everyone in attendance would know his feelings for her. Soon the tension left her body and, as he’d suspected, she was a marvelous dancer—smooth and graceful.
“You dance well,” he murmured.
“Thank you.”
“What a waste to hide in the shadows.”
“It’s where I’m comfortable.”
“Is it? I don’t think so.”
“And you are now an expert on me?”
Chapter 18
“I would like to be an expert of you,” Ross said quietly.
Sara’s startled gaze flew to his, and for a moment she couldn’t seem to speak.
“I surprised you,” he said.
“I can’t deny that.” She sighed. “We’re treading on dangerous ground here, Ross.”
“What’s so wrong with dancing with you?”
“They will talk.” She tipped her head to the crowd surrounding the dance floor. “And you know that’s not what I mean.”
“Let them talk. And what do you mean?”
“You care not for my reputation?” She raised a brow, and he was well aware that she didn’t answer his other question. He knew what she meant, but he wanted her to say it.
“You said you won’t marry and that you’ll waste away in Hadley Fields.”
“Hadley Springs and I must take care of my father. I hardly call that wasting away.”
“I do. You need to be here, in London.”
With me. But he would not voice that thought, because she was right. He was treading on dangerous ground. He should have walked away. He should have left her in the corner spinning stories about the people she observed. That’s what he should have done. But he hadn’t, and dammit, he was glad he was holding her, dancing with her, right here, right now.
Much to his regret, the music ended, forcing them to step away from each other. Ross felt keenly the loss of her presence. He bowed to her and she curtsied to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother bearing down on them with Lady Penelope and her mother in tow. Sara must have seen them as well, for she took a step away from him, then another, until the crowd swallowed her up. He felt her loss sharply and had to force himself not to wade through the crowd after her. Because as much as he didn’t say it, he did care for her reputation. Besides, he’d accomplished what he wanted. He’d pulled her out of the corner of the room, and already he found some young bucks looking at her differently. How strange was it that instead of making him feel better, their interest made him feel as if he wanted to put his fist in the face of each man who looked at her.However, he could not keep her in the shadows because he preferred to keep her to himself. That was not fair.
“Ross, I would like you to meet Lady Grafton and her daughter Lady Penelope.”
Both women curtsied, and Ross tried to hide his grimace. Lady Penelope was certainly beautiful—she had a becoming figure and a warm smile—but she didn’t do a thing to stir his interest.
“Ladies,” he said with a polite smile. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” gushed Lady Penelope. “The decorations are divine.”
Decorations? Ross looked around and discovered that there were indeed decorations. Hothouse flowers dotted the ballroom, and some sort of fabric hung from the ceilings. He supposed they were acceptable but far from divine, and that put him in mind of what Sara had said: that Lady Penelope was mentally redecorating his sitting room. The thought caused him to bite back a smile. It would do no good for Lady Penelope to think he was smiling at her.
Lady Penelope shot him an anxious look, and he realized he had not responded to her comment about the divine decorations. “Yes, quite divine,” he said.
Her mother looked at him expectantly. There was a gleam in her eye, a desperation that made him uncomfortable.
Against his better judgment, he looked over Lady Penelope’s shoulder, searching in the direction of where Sara had disappeared. She was conversing with someone. A man. No, a young man. Younger than Ross. And she was smiling. She looked like she might even be enjoying herself. He was surprised by the twist of an ugly emotion inside of him. He was jealous of the lad, for he had Sara’s beautiful brown eyes watching him.
Pretending that someone was attempting to attract his attention, Ross nodded, then looked at Lady Penelope, who was staring up at him with wide blue eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I must speak to on an urgent business matter. My apologies, ladies, and it was a pleasure meeting you.” He started away, knowing it was bad form and that he would catch hell from his mother for it.
“Ross.”
With a sigh, he stopped and turned back to the duchess, who had followed and was frowning at him.
“Whatever are you about? Lady Penelope is a wonderful girl.”
“You need to stop introducing me to all these potential brides, Mother.”
Elizabeth guided them to the same corner where he had found Sara hiding. She looked around to make certain no one was listening. Luckily, or unluckily for him, no one was about. “It was not my intention to introduce you to Lady Penelope, but her mother
asked for an introduction and I could not say no.”
“Of course you couldn’t. I apologize for snapping at you.”
“I know this is not an appropriate time or place, but you really must consider marrying.”
“I’m well aware of my duties.”
Her face softened and she touched his arm. “It’s been two years, Gabriel.”
He looked away, chagrined to discover that his reluctance to wed had nothing to do with Meredith’s death. At one time it had, but not anymore. He knew what the problem was, but he couldn’t tell his mother. There was only one woman he would consider marrying, but he could never ask her, because he’d been responsible for her cousin’s death.
Shimmering gold caught his eye and he found his gaze drawn to Sara. She was still with that upstart, who was not alone in his attentions. Sara was surrounded by several young bucks, all vying for her attention.
“What the bloody—” He cut off his words and pressed his lips into a fine line. He would have to go rescue her. She would hate being the center of so much attention. He could barely see her through the throng surrounding her. What if the letter writer were among them?
No, this simply would not do.
He started for her but was brought up short when his mother grabbed his elbow. “What are you doing?”
“Rescuing Sara from those…” He couldn’t think of an appropriate word for those lads. At least nothing he could say in front of his mother.
“Leave her be, Gabriel.”
His mother didn’t know about the letters. If so, she would understand why he couldn’t leave Sara be. He needed to be beside her to protect her.
“She needs to be guarded,” he said more to himself.
“You don’t know?”
He pulled his gaze from Sara, alerted by his mother’s tone; she was looking at him oddly. “Know what?” he asked.
“Sara is an heiress, Gabriel. She’s the only remaining child of the marquess and is set to inherit everything that is not entailed. A veritable fortune. Why do you think those gentlemen are paying her attention?”
An heiress? But of course she was. If he’d stopped to think, he would have realized that all of Meredith’s considerable dowry was now heaped upon Sara’s dowry, creating quite a large sum of money. Large enough to attract every eligible gentleman out there.
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