Lavinia sidestepped, forcing Dawnford to either release her or create a scene. He released her, though his eyes glinted with calculation. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
“Immensely,” she replied, keeping her fan deployed between them as a shield. “The conversation is especially stimulating.”
He grinned. “You are merciless.”
“I am practical,” Lavinia said, voice even.
“Practicality is so dull,” Dawnford replied. “I hope you will indulge me in another dance later.”
She drew herself up, deploying her full arsenal of cold civility. “I fear my dance card is full, Lord Dawnford. Perhaps you should ask other ladies.”
The air crackled, and Dawnford laughed, but there was a dark edge to it. “You are unattainable, Lady Lavinia.”
“I do try.”
He inclined his head, retreating a step. “Then I will leave you to your company, though I shall not be discouraged.”
She watched him vanish into the crowd, not missing the way he paused to glare at the Duke before resuming his predatory tour of the ballroom. She returned her attention to Frances and Tristan, but not before catching the barely perceptible clench of the Duke’s jaw.
So you do care, she thought. The knowledge was both gratifying and faintly dangerous.
Frances whispered, “I do not like Lord Dawnford.”
“I cannot imagine anyone does,” Lavinia replied, then realized she had spoken aloud. Frances giggled and nearly dropped her reticule.
The musicians struck up a quadrille, and couples began to form sets. Frances was immediately conscripted by an overeagergentleman, leaving Lavinia and Tristan side by side. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he said, “He is not your equal.”
She did not bother to feign ignorance. “Which ‘he’ do you mean, Your Grace?”
“Dawnford. He is beneath you. And I would not see you harmed by his attentions.”
She met his gaze, which was, for once, devoid of irony. “I am well-armed, as you have probably noticed.”
“I have noticed,” he said. “But even the best armaments sometimes require support.”
She was startled by the admission. “Is that your way of offering to duel Lord Dawnford on my behalf?”
He allowed himself a rare, genuine smile. “It is my way of offering to escort you from his vicinity at a moment’s notice.”
She pretended to consider. “Would it require violence?”
“Only if necessary.”
Lavinia could not help it, she laughed, startling both herself and Tristan. For a moment, the years and titles and expectations fellaway, and she was simply Lavinia, alive and, for the first time in memory, unburdened by anything but the lightness of the moment.
The quadrille ended, the room erupting in applause and new pairings.
Tristan extended his arm. “Will you walk with me?”
She accepted immediately, her hand resting on the crook of his arm as if it belonged there. They strolled the edge of the ballroom, out of direct sight of Lady Montfort, who was still terrorizing the musicians.
“I did not expect to see you tonight,” Lavinia said, keeping her voice low.
“Nor did I expect to come,” Tristan replied. “But I find myself… interested.”
She considered this. “Interested in preventing a scandal?”
