That wasn’t entirely true. The truth was she didn’t really want to dance such an intimate dance with any of the men she’d met this evening.
She didn’t want to dance it with anyone, really.
Anyone except the only man in the room who had no interest in her.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry overly much about that, dear,” Abigail said now. “You are, after all, the sister-in-law of the Duke of Montvale. That gets you a certain amount of grace when it comes to these things.”
Alison raised a sceptical brow.
“Then why all the warnings about it?”
“Well, we’re American, Alison.” Abigail shrugged. “And I have found that makes us a little less – rigid than our English counterparts. I might have overdone the sermons on propriety, truth be told. If James were here, our big cousin would make absolutely sure you didn’t put a toe wrong. But I have never been exactly renowned for my demure nature, and Rob couldn’t care less about the ton and its rules. So, I have been a little over-cautious, I’m sure.”
“Oh, well.” Alison patted her sister’s hand. “No harm done. It is but one dance, and there isn’t anyone I particularly wished to dance it with.”
“No one at all?”
Alison opened her mouth to answer when a movement across the ballroom caught her eye.
He’d disappeared for a while, as had her brother-in-law. But there they stood – two handsome dukes, head and shoulders above almost everyone else in the room.
Robert was scowling, forboding and dangerous looking as always.
The only time Alison saw him look anything other than slightly forboding was when he was looking at his wife or daughter.
And Poppy, too, when James’s niece was around.
But Rob wasn’t the one holding Ally’s attention now.
No, her gaze was firmly fixed on his silent and stern companion.
Lord Barnbury’s navy-blue eyes perused the ballroom. From here, Alison couldn’t tell if he were pleased or displeased with what he saw.
His face was always a study in absolute stoicism, save for when he was frowning at her with obvious displeasure.
But his eyes always gave him away. Some tiny flicker of emotion always made itself known in his gaze.
It usually went unnoticed, she was sure. But then, she reasoned, it was unlikely that anyone other than her was looking closely enough to see.
Although, a quick glance around the room proved that wasn’t necessarily the case.
Everywhere she looked there was a bevy of beautiful debutantes staring adoringly up at the formidable duke.
The only consolation was that he seemed oblivious to the lot of them.
Abigail coughed slightly, and Alison snapped her gaze back to her sister’s identical one.
She realised she hadn’t answered Abigail’s question but rather had gone mute whilst she’d studied every inch of Lord Barnbury and then eyed up the competition.
Competition! As though she had a chance of landing the stoic duke. As though she wanted to.
“So, no one?” Abigail repeated with a mischievous grin.
Alison felt her cheeks scald.
She refused to answer, choosing instead to sniff piously and look away.
Abigail’s giggle did nothing to soothe Alison’s embarrassment at having been caught gaping at a man who so clearly had no interest in her.
“Well, there aren’t any gentlemen here with whom I would allow you to dance it, in any case,” Abigail said casually. Casually enough to raise Alison’s suspicions. “Except one.”
“Oh?” Alison said, willing her cheeks to stop reddening. She could feel the heat rising in them again.
“Indeed,” Abby said. “Nicholas,” she continued, “He is a duke of equal standing to Robert and his oldest friend. There could be no impropriety in the action. And, of course, I know he can be trusted with you.”
“Oh, yes. Because he dislikes me, so you wouldn’t have to worry about any attempts at impropriety.” Alison couldn’t keep the slight bitterness from her tone.
Abigail’s mouth opened in surprise.
“I was going to say it was because Nic is the steadiest, most dependable person I know,” she said carefully. “Why do you think he dislikes you?”
Alison huffed out a breath, annoyed with herself for bringing it up.
“Oh, I think I made a rather poor first impression.” She tried her best to sound nonchalant. There was certainly no way she would admit to having kissed the man and sent him running off without a word about it since. It was like he’d forgotten. Just to add insult to injury. “I think he was under the impression that I was trying to seduce Lord Dashford.”
“Simon?” Abigail laughed. “Good Lord! How could he have thought that?”
“I don’t know.” Alison shrugged helplessly. “A misunderstanding? Though I got the impression that he didn’t like me from the first moment we met.”
“How strange.” Abigail frowned. “I’ve never known Nic to dislike anyone. He’s always been perfectly polite and kind to everyone.”
“Well, how nice for me to be the first,” Alison said dryly.
In truth, it stung a little to be the only person the duke apparently took a disliking to.
“Perhaps you are mistaken,” Abigail said now, patting her hand reassuringly. “He can’t have thought that Robert or James would have let Simon anywhere near you, in any case.”
Alison laughed in spite of the uncomfortable conversation.
She knew that Lord Dashford had the well-earned title of Devil of Dashford for many years. The opposite of her cousin James in every possible way.
Yet when she had met Dashford, he’d already been completely besotted with Amelia.
So, though the stories of the earl’s escapades shocked and scandalised her, she’d only ever known him as positively moon-eyed over the studious countess.
Yet the censure in Lord Barnbury’s glare and tone on the brief occasions that he’d deigned to speak to her at Dashford, coupled with Amelia’s mistaken belief that there was an affection between Alison and Simon, led Alison to believe that Lord Barnbury thought her nothing more than a flirtatious wanton.
And given he was so straight and good, she would be the worst type of person to someone like him.
“It’s of no consequences, in any case,” she said stoutly to her watchful sister. “He hasn’t asked me to dance. Not the waltz. Not anything.”
Abigail frowned once again.
“That’s not like him,” she said. “He must know that it would be expected of such a close friend to ask for a set. Besides, dancing with the Duke of Barnbury would do your reputation a world of good.”
Abigail turned to stare across the ballroom at Lord Barnbury whilst Alison felt steadily worse, before Abigail suddenly nodded her head.
“Right,” Abigail tucked her arms through Alison’s and began to pull her gently toward the gentlemen. “Come along.”
“Wait, Abby. No!”
Alison tried to pull herself from her sister’s grip without making a scene. But Abigail was stronger than she looked.
“I will not go over there begging for a dance, Abigail,” Alison bit out, just loud enough for her sister to hear.
“Of course, you won’t,” Abigail responded airily. “A lady does not beg for a dance.”
“Well, what are we doing then?”
“We’re going to make him beg for a dance.” She grinned.
Alison tried her best to look disapproving at Abigail’s embarrassing plan.
But it was useless.
Her sister was determined and she, much to her shame, was secretly hoping that whatever Abigail planned to do would work.
Chapter Seven
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Alison stood awkwardly while Robert kissed Abby’s hand then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
She had no idea what he said, and judging from the blush on her sister’s cheek, she didn’t want to know.
She risked a glance at Lord Barnbury, but his face was a mask of indifference as he surveyed the room and avoided her eye.
Alison suddenly felt like going home and was about to suggest it, when Abigail pulled away from her husband and sighed dramatically.
“What’s wrong?” Robert asked immediately.
“Oh, ’tis nothing,” Abby said. “It’s just been rather difficult keeping the gentlemen in check around Ally.”
Alison frowned at her sister.
The men in the room had been attentive. Sometimes embarrassingly so. But it wasn’t anything she felt she couldn’t handle.
Robert muffled an oath, bizarrely glaring at Lord Barnbury, before turning his attention back to the ladies.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he said darkly. “Perhaps we should just go.”
“We can’t go,” Abby said quickly before Alison had a chance to agree with her brother-in-law. “Why, Alison is promised for almost every dance. It would be just terrible for her prospects if she were to cry off now.”
“Well then, tell me who was bothering her.”
Alison felt rather alarmed at the dark expression on Robert’s face, but Abby seemed unconcerned.
“It’s not that anyone is bothering her per se.” She sighed. “It’s just there are so many of them. And I’m not sure all of their intentions are honourable.”
This time, Robert’s oath of annoyance was coupled by one from Lord Barnbury, and Alison’s eyes flew to his face in time to see it darken with anger.
For a moment, he looked as terrifying as Robert, but just as quickly his expression cleared once more.
“Anyway, I’m sure it will be fine,” Abby continued nonchalantly. “There is only the supper waltz free now, and as you know, whomever dances that with Alison will accompany her to dine, so she must choose wisely.”
Alison was baffled by what her sister was up to.
She could only smile weakly at Robert’s curious glance.
“Of course, I have cautioned against agreeing to stand up with certain gentlemen but, well” – she turned to smile at Alison, patting her hand – “it’s her first ball in England, and she cannot come to too much harm.”
She paused in her little speech, and Alison saw a glint of mischief suddenly spark in her eyes.
“Even if she dances with Lord Tremont.”
Alison gaped at Abigail.
Lord Tremont was one of the few people with whom she had been absolutely forbidden to dance. And as soon as she’d been introduced to the man, she’d guessed why.
His smile hadn’t reached his cold, blue eyes and had put Alison in mind of a snake about to strike.
But before she could offer any sort of objection to Abigail’s assertion, she was beaten to it by Robert and, to her surprise, Lord Barnbury.
“Over my dead body,” Robert barked.
“She’s not dancing with him,” Lord Barnbury growled, and though Robert’s objection was louder, Lord Barnbury’s was the one that caught Alison’s attention.
Surely, he didn’t actually care with whom she danced?
“Oh dear.” Abigail blinked wide, innocent eyes at the two gentlemen. “I didn’t think your objections would be quite so strong.”
“What are you thinking, Abby? You know of the man’s reputation.”
Abigail frowned up at Lord Barnbury, looking for all the world like an innocently distressed miss.
Her sister could have had a marvellous career on the stage.
“I didn’t think he could be quite so bad as people said. After all, Simon had the worst reputation of anyone I’ve ever known, and he’s wonderful.”
“Simon’s reputation was of an incorrigible rake, and believe me, it was well deserved.” Robert frowned. “But he was never cruel and never dangerous. The same cannot be said of that ba –”
“Be that as it may, she has already danced with everyone else who held her interest, isn’t that right, dear?”
Alison managed to stutter incoherently, but it seemed enough for Abigail to plough on.
“And it really wouldn’t do for her to dance two dances with the same gentleman at her first ball. So, what else is there to do? If she sits it out, he will only sit with her.”
She smiled serenely at the two glowering dukes, and though Alison felt rather humiliated that her sister was trying to manipulate Lord Barnbury into dancing with her, she couldn’t help but admire the tactic.
After a strained silence, Robert sighed.
“Fine,” he snapped. “But I’ll be keeping a close eye, and I swear if he tries to –”
“Miss Langton,” Lord Barnbury interrupted whatever dire warning Robert was no doubt going to issue, and Alison looked up to see the handsome duke staring inscrutably at her. “Would you do me the honour of dancing the supper waltz with me?”
Alison’s heart stopped dead in her chest before suddenly fluttering wildly.
It was foolish to feel excited about the poor man being forced to dance with her against his will.
Yet she couldn’t help it.
No matter what her head told her, rather sternly, too, her heart wouldn’t be reasoned with.
In a matter of moments, Lord Barnbury would be holding her in those strong arms of his.
Perhaps then she could get to the bottom of his antagonism toward her, and to the bottom of the mysterious attraction she felt toward him.
Damn Abigail Forsythe and her meddling.
Nicholas fought more than usual to keep his calm outward demeanour.
He guessed that Abigail had more sense than to let her sister near a blackguard like Tremont, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to think clearly.
He knew more about the depths of depravity that Peers like Tremont sank to than even his friends. He’d heard stories of them and seen them loiter around the brothels and hells of St. Giles enough to know there was truth in all the tales.
The idea of a creature like that putting his hands on Alison had made him lose all reason.
And before the mist of fury at the very idea of Fulham anywhere near Alison had subsided, he’d found himself asking her to dance.
The orchestra struck the chords he was at once hoping for and yet dreading, and he turned to offer his arm to the delectable blonde, telling himself repeatedly how one dance signified nothing.
How one girl wasn’t much different to another.
The second she placed a delicate, gloved hand on his elbow, Nicholas knew he was wrong.
The jolt of desire that slammed into him nearly brought him to his knees.
He’d never felt the likes of it. And it terrified him.
Outwardly, he managed to remain poised and composed.
They reached the other dancers, and Nic took a deep breath before taking Miss Langton into his arms.
She was tiny. A slip of a girl.
Yet he could feel just how womanly she was when he placed his hand at her waist and drew her as close as he dare.
Preparing for impact, Nic finally looked down.
Just as he had feared, her cornflower eyes bored into him, making his mouth dry, his heart race, and his mind addled.
He’d expected an increase in the unwanted attraction he felt to her when he held her in his arms. Never could he have expected the sense of rightness at her being there.
He stared down at her, ensnared in her blue gaze.
Miss Langton didn’t say a thing, merely gazed at him, trapping him in her spell.
The opening strains of the waltz reminded Nic to move.
It’s just a dance, he told himself. Like any other dance.
And she’s just a girl, he was sterner with himself in this point. Like any other girl.
Only as their bodies began to move, Miss Langton stepping closer, her hand searing his shoulder, her floral scent tormenting him, he knew that she wasn’t like any other girl. And that was exactly the trouble.
“You are looking quite severe, your grace.” She smiled up at him demurely, but her
eyes were lit with that mischief he didn’t trust. “Surely, I cannot have displeased you already. I haven’t said anything outrageous, and I haven’t trodden on your foot.” She paused. “Not yet, in any case.”
To his surprise, Nic felt a spark of humour, even a little entertainment at the chit, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside.
“You dance very well, Miss Langton,” he said sombrely. “I cannot imagine that you would make the mistake of standing on my foot.”
Her smile became positively wicked, and Nic felt that ever-present desire stir in response.
“I didn’t say it would be a mistake.”
She was incorrigible, and Nic felt his lips quirk in spite of himself.
“You would wish to do me bodily harm, Miss Langton? I can’t imagine what I could have done to deserve such a thing.”
Alison looked as surprised by Nic’s flirtatious tone as he was to use it.
And when did I start thinking of her as Alison?
One evening in her company, one moment holding her in his arms, and he was suddenly thinking of her as Alison and holding her closer than was strictly appropriate, just to catch the maddening scent of her skin, just to wrap his hand a little more firmly around her delicate waist.
“Given that your favourite thing in the world seems to be scolding me, I’m sure it won’t be long before I find a good reason,” she answered frankly and with an honesty he couldn’t help but admire.
Nic felt both a twinge of guilt and a twinge of something infinitely more dangerous.
He couldn’t think of a thing to say in response, so he said nothing at all. Instead, he enjoyed the excruciating pleasure of having her in his arms.
Chapter Eight
The day dawned bright and golden, and Alison lay in bed listening to the sounds of her brother-in-law’s household awakening.
Though she had barely slept a wink last night, she was still awake with the lark.
Last night’s ball had been one of the most wonderful evenings of her life.
She had enjoyed it immensely.
She had been introduced to all the right people, met friends of Abigail and Robert, been lavished with attention by gentlemen whose names she couldn’t even remember.
The Saint of St. Giles Page 5