And her reticule was covered with ink. What had she been thinking?
She had been trying to escape him, of course. And trying to prove that she could do the job he’d been hired for as effectively as he could, so she might never have to see him again. When talking to him had been unavoidable, she’d assumed that he must be working. Why else would Gregory Drake be associating with decent people in the evening?
The answer to that was that he knew many of them and counted most as friends. He was invited to so many balls and routs that it was surprising he had not already made an acquaintance with the Strickland sisters. It was also sensible, now that they were in the same place, that he made sure she had been introduced to all his eligible friends. That was well within the parameters for the other half of his job: setting her cap and mind for anyone who was not the Earl of Comstock.
It was also the last thing on earth he wanted to do. When he had seen her disappear into a darkened room, his first, unworthy impulse had been to follow her and lock the door behind them. It had taken several minutes of internal struggling to focus on the only thing that should come to mind when he saw her: his job.
Now that he had regained control of himself, he returned the inkwell to its proper place, taking the time to clean up the spilled ink. Then he wrapped the spoiled reticule in a handkerchief and handed it to a footman, giving instructions that it be returned to the Strickland carriage to await its owner.
Once finished, he proceeded to the ballroom where he’d meant to be all along. He helped himself to a glass of punch, which Ellingham House always served strong. He had a second glass for good measure. Then he joined the dance to do the thing he had promised himself he would never do again. He needed to talk with Hope Strickland.
It did not take him long to manoeuvre himself into a position where the only natural thing to do was to offer to partner her. She looked around frantically for a moment, hoping to find someone who she might claim to have promised a dance to. Then she gave up and accepted defeat, and his arm.
They danced in silence for a moment before he said, ‘You do not have to be frightened of me, you know. There will be no embarrassing repetition of this morning’s incident.’
Did she look disappointed? If so, the expression passed almost instantly. She stared at his hand. ‘How do you keep your gloves so clean?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I ruined mine. The maid in the ladies’ retiring room could do nothing with them and found me a pair to borrow for the evening. But you...’ His hand touched hers as they cast down the set and she stared at it in amazement.
‘I was very careful,’ he said, when they met again. At least, he always had been, before he’d met her. ‘Your reticule is in your coach and your brother-in-law will be billed for my ruined handkerchief. Also, Ellingham’s staff will be missing two table napkins tomorrow.’ He shrugged. ‘A lesser inconvenience than a missing inkwell, I think.’
‘You returned it?’ She frowned.
‘Because it did not belong to you. That particular style was a popular gift to servants of the Crown in the middle of the last century. The engraving on the base indicated that it was given to Ellingham’s grandfather.’
He hoped it was only embarrassment that caused the dramatic scarlet flush in her face. For a moment, he feared she was becoming ill. ‘I am mortified,’ she murmured. ‘And sorry to you as well. I should never have proceeded without consulting you.’
That was perfectly true. But it pained him to see her suffer over the mistake. ‘You were precipitous in your actions, but they were somewhat helpful. Now that I have seen an example of the thing I am seeking, I shall have no trouble finding it in the shops I frequent. It shall be delivered to your house tomorrow, by noon.’
‘You are too kind, Mr Drake.’ Perhaps it was because she’d been veiled for so much of their time together that he found it so affecting to look into her eyes. They were the warm brown of a good sherry and just as intoxicating.
He felt himself flushing under her gaze and hoped it could be blamed on the warmth of the ballroom. ‘It is nothing, Miss Strickland. I am simply doing the job I have been hired to do.’
‘And I seem to go out of my way to make it more difficult for you,’ she said. ‘This afternoon, when I spoke of my family, or bragged, rather...’
‘You have a right to be proud of them,’ he said. He should not have had the second glass of punch. He was straining to smile, revealing too much of the man behind the façade he’d created to deal with his employers.
‘Charity told me of your past. I did not mean to draw an unfavourable comparison between your life and mine, and I am sorry if it seemed so.’ She reached up with a free hand and brushed at the stray curl, which was no more out of place than the rest of the soft ringlets surrounding her face.
He stared at it for a moment, watching in fascination as it caressed her cheek and then bounced away again. ‘If I took offence, I am the foolish one. And as for what happened next...’
‘You promised that we would not speak of it,’ she reminded him, though she seemed more surprised than scolding. Had the reminder of their kiss pleased her? The smile that danced across her lips was more playful than practised.
He smiled back. This time it felt as relaxed and natural as moving through the patterns of the dance with her. ‘I merely wish to reiterate my apology.’
‘It is accepted,’ she said. ‘But you must stop taking all the blame on yourself. I was horrid to you.’ She touched the curl again—clearly it was a nervous habit. ‘And this evening, I treated you as if you did not belong here. I would not have been surprised if you refused to speak to me ever again. And yet you still helped me.’
‘I would not have bothered you, had you not needed my help,’ he reminded her.
The dance had ended, but their conversation had not. Out of the corner of his eye he could see several fellows moving forward to take his place. Before they could arrive, he held out his hand to her again.
Without a thought, she took it and they lined up for the next set.
‘It is good that you did help me,’ she added. ‘Tonight, I thought to show you that I could manage alone. But I did not do very well, did I? I did not even notice that the thing I took had someone else’s name written upon it.’
‘I have been dealing with such problems far longer than you have,’ he reminded her. ‘Checking for details is almost second nature, as is keeping my head clear and my gloves clean.’ He stopped himself before he could say more. What had begun as reassuring a client was beginning to sound suspiciously like bragging about his abilities.
