“To our ladies,” Kent declared. “May we be everything they deserve.”
After they drank to that, Adam heard the orchestra start up again. The lilting melody he’d been waiting for filled the room.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “I’m going to claim my wife for our second waltz.”
With a bow, he strode away, but he caught Ransom’s murmured words to the others.
“I never thought I would say this…but, devil and damn, I actuallylikethe new Adam Garrity.”
Flushed from dancing and the pleasure of being in her husband’s arms, Gabby felt giddy as Adam led her off the dance floor. In the past, if they were at the same function, he had usually stood with her for one dance. Tonight, he’d claimedtwo, both of them waltzes. And while he had always been her favorite partner, their newfound intimacy added another dimension to their dancing.
He led flawlessly, and she followed with equal grace. Their bodies swayed together in perfect, sensual synchrony, one that reminded her acutely of how well they moved together in bed. Or against the wall. Or in the carriage…
“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Adam muttered.
She blinked, seeing the taut edge of his jaw above his crisp cravat. “I thought you were enjoying the evening?”
“I was. But dancing with you,”—he slanted her a meaningful look—“is enough to make a saint hard. And I’m no saint. How much longer do you want to stay?”
“We ought to bid our host and hostess farewell before we leave,” she said decorously.
“Excellent, there they are now.”
She smothered a giggle at her husband’s virile impatience as he tugged her toward their friends.
There was a newcomer in the group, she noted, a man to whom she’d never been formally introduced but whose wheat-blond hair and piercing dark eyes were instantly recognizable. Sketches of him appeared regularly in the papers, and a recent caricature had shown him sitting astride a golden locomotive, a crown atop his head and scepter in hand.
The caption had read,Midas Rules the Railways.
“Ah, here are my dear friends, the Garritys,” Tessa said. “May I introduce Mr. Anthony De Villier? Although I’m sure he needs no introduction. He does us an honor, gracing this ball despite his busy schedule.”
The industrialist was rumored to be in his sixties, yet he had a young man’s vigor, his body ruthlessly fit. His light hair, dark brows, and unlined face gave him an oddly ageless aspect. When De Villier took Gabby’s hand, she noticed his heavy signet ring, the gleaming bloodstone carved with his initials.
“A pleasure, Mrs. Garrity,” he said in deep, silky tones.
“Likewise, sir.” Something about the man’s hawkish stare made her uneasy. His hand gripped hers with a bit too much pressure; flustered, she pulled away. “I’ve, um, been reading about your latest successes in the papers. I understand your steam-powered design is to be the fastest in the world?”
“My steam engine, once completed, will revolutionize the industry.” De Villier’s charisma and confidence were potent; Gabby could see why so many people had invested in his ventures. “We have orders already from all major railway interests. Our business is booming—but your husband is no stranger to that.” He turned to Adam, his gaze assessing before he inclined his head. “Garrity, I hear you are quite a successful…entrepreneur in your own right.”
Gabby did not miss De Villier’s subtle slight. She narrowed her gaze at him.
“I’m a moneylender,” Adam said bluntly. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so.” De Villier’s smile was condescending. “But then, our circles aren’t exactly the same, are they?”
This time, the snub wasn’t subtle, and Gabby felt her hackles rise. Howdarethe blighter look down upon her husband? De Villier might be rich, but so was Adam, and both were self-made men who’d found success in their respective trades. Why did people feel the need to push others down in order to make themselves feel superior? Why couldn’t everyone just benice?
A lifetime of held-back emotion surged in Gabby. Boxes and bins toppled in her head, thoughts and feelings breaking free. Restraint gave way to blazing indignation.
“If you do not like the present company, sir,” she said in trembling tones, “then you are welcome to go elsewhere.”
The words shocked her as much as her friends, who went wide-eyed. The men stilled, their postures tensing, as if they were readying to deal with the aftermath of her cut direct.
De Villier stiffened, his dark eyes flashing. A pair of burly men emerged out of nowhere to flank him. They were dressed like footmen, but she knew what they were for Adam had guards too. De Villier’s men looked especially brutish: one had an angry red scar that ran from his ear to his chin, his beady gaze focused on Adam.
Sweet heavens.The consequences of her outburst hit her.What have I done?
“Actually, stay if you like, De Villier.” It was Adam who broke the silence, his voice calm and controlled. “My wife and I were on our way out. Our thanks to you, Mr. and Mrs. Kent, for your hospitality. And felicitations to the happy couple.”
