At the conservatory door, he stopped and surveyed the magnificent space with its soaring glass ceiling now dark with night and palm trees that nearly reached the highest point in the center. Lush with exotic greenery from every corner of the world, this room proclaimed aristocratic wealth and privilegemore distinctly than any other room in the mansion. Gilt and silk furnishings and crystal chandeliers could be easily bought, but one came into possession of these exotic trees, shrubberies, flowers, and orchids—not to mention the Grecian marble statuary scattered throughout—with contacts from around the world and no expense to spare. One didn’t purchase such finds with credit.
His gaze caught on a still figure bent over an especially vibrant orchid.
Lady Beatrix.
She was dressed at the height of fashion in her new finery tonight—a silk dress in a sapphire hue with white satin gloves reaching just below her elbows. Her lady’s maid had arranged her hair in a coiffure that accentuated both the volume and luster of her sable locks and the graceful column of her neck.
His gaze found itself following the delicate line of her clavicle.
A man’s tongue wouldn’t be able to resist that line—to test its feel…to know its taste.
Dev stopped himself right there.
Lady Beatrix wasn’t his to test and taste.
And she wasn’t his doll to dress up.
He’d only procured the clothes—and the housekeeper and the maid and the French cook and the pantry full of food—so she could play the role of his fiancée believably.
That was all.
He cleared his throat.
She froze, mid-sniff. Her head angled, and surprised, remarkable…arresting…eyes met his, holding them as she straightened.
Her eyes.
The sapphire hue of her dress brought the subtle violet within the gray forward, further deepened by the thick, dark fringe of eyelashes—beautiful.
But Lady Beatrix’s eyes were more than remarkable, arresting, and beautiful.
Unflinching and possessed of a rare openness, one had to be stout of heart to brave looking into those eyes. One wouldn’t be able to hide from that inquisitive gaze—at least, not for long.
“The conservatory for ourlittle sensationis a bit cliché, no?” she asked. Except she wasn’t asking—she was telling.
A blade of steel ran through the understated beauty before him.
Dev found a smile twitching about his mouth. “Then what better place?”
A laugh sounded through her nose. “You owe the soprano at least five dozen roses for upstaging her performance.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll send her ten dozen.”
Lady Beatrix shook her head on another dry laugh and began wandering along the periphery of the cavernous space…always keeping opposite him and…watchful. “Do you know where we shall,erm, position ourselves?”
Discomfort and nerves shimmered off her, belying the pragmatism of her words.
He glanced around. “We need to be visible from the corridor beyond the doors.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A bit obvious.”
“Tonight isn’t about subtlety.”
She continued her amble, pausing before a large palm in examination. “What about here?”
Dev shook his head. “It isn’t sufficiently visible from the doors.”
She walked purposely toward a bright spray of fuchsia on the other side of the room. “Would this suffice?”
