“You must visit me at the Grange.”
“You have no plan to return to London?” Beatrix wasn’t surprised, but still sorely disappointed. Her future in London was looking so very decidedly bleak.
Again, that awful word.
“I shall,” said Artemis. “But the time isn’t yet right. A few matters have come to my attention and must be dealt with.”
She pulled Beatrix into one of her fierce embraces, then was off, Bathsheba trailing behind her. Only Artemis would bring a dog to a dance.
Beatrix remained fastened to her patch of wall and cast her gaze across the room. The affair was an informal one, as it was outside London and the number of attendees was too few to deem it a ball. Except one wouldn’t know it from the opulence of the ballroom with its gleaming mahogany dancing floor and three matched, five-tiered crystal chandeliers that threw warm, sparkling light in every direction. Then there were the quality of the diamonds gracing the necks and wrists of the ladies and the exalted titles of the lords that were of equal quality and flamboyance. Any ball in London would be deemed the success of the Season with such a resplendent gathering.
Her eye caught upon two figures on the opposite end of the dancing floor—Lord Wrexford and Miss Shaw. They weren’t dancing, but rather their heads were bent close in deepconversation. Beatrix wasn’t sure whose eyes shone brighter or cheeks bloomed redder. A match was only a matter of time—he, an earl and future marquess…she, an heiress and lovely with impeccable manners and a fine mind. It would be that rare love match that was also socially appropriate.
Of a sudden, the air in the ballroom changed, as if a match had fired and sparked it to life. Beatrix knew that change in the air. Her heart a variable butterfly in her chest, she scanned the crowd until she located the source—Dev.
Oh, but he was handsome in his impeccable evening blacks.
Lord Devil.
That was the man thetonwanted him to be—to fill that role for their entertainment.
And wasn’t she, too, guilty? Only last night, in his bed, she’d indulged in fantasy with Lord Devil.
Her thighs still ached from the experience.
Yet she saw more to him, and she wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
Was itbetterto see him beyond his surface? To see more beyond his handsomeness and wealth? To see his intelligence, ingenuity, and genius? His thoughtfulness… His sweetness… To see all those qualities and know he would never be hers?
Over the shoulder of a lady who had planted herself firmly in his path, his gaze lifted and met Beatrix’s. Without a word, he sidestepped the lady, leaving an irritated femininehumphin his wake. As he erased the distance between them, one sure step at a time, he dared Beatrix to look away—as if she could. Lord Devil was coming to claim her.
Oh, the champagne was having its way with her thoughts.
Somewhere between an eternity of years and the snap of her fingers, he came to a stop before her.Close—too close…uncomfortably close. So close she could feel the familiar pulse of his energy and heat…pick up his scent of pine and sea andhim…reach out and caress his stubble-shadowed cheek and tangle fingers through the hair that curled against his collar.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, the question a low, velvet rumble that quaked through her one syllable at a time.
Was music playing?
She couldn’t hear it.
Her senses could take in nothing beyond what related to him.
The entire room was watching, either directly or from the corner of their eyes.
But that wasn’t why she nodded and allowed her hand to be taken into his and her entire self to be led onto the dancing floor.
She wanted to dance with Dev.
To experience the enlivening, buoyant feeling dancing stirred within her—with him.
To feel herself in his arms once again.
It was the latter feeling she wanted most.
With all her being, in fact.
And the two coupes of champagne she’d consumed had blurred the reasons that stood between wanting and having.
