Miss Bennet turned her gleaming gaze on him. “That must be a lengthy conversation! I am sure Lord Burke knows a great deal about the topic.”
”Are you asking me to tell tales on your brother, Miss Bennet?” He was still having difficulty believing it was the same woman, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see anything that wasn’t her. He’d just never noticed that her fine complexion went all the way down to the swells of her bosom. In fact, now that the lace and trimmings were gone, he had an all-too-clear view of her bosom, along with the rest of her figure. Far from making her look fat, as that horrid pink dress had done, this gown made her look lush and delectable. His hands almost itched to test the span of her waist.
“Oh, my. No doubt my aunt and I would both swoon away at your exploits.” She batted her lashes at him, which only drew his attention to her eyes and the sly sparkle in them.
It made him grin. She was once more undaunted and uncowed, just as she had been the day she invaded Bennet’s house. He much preferred her this way, instead of the nervous, anxious creature she’d been at the Malcolm ball. He felt no shame in admitting it, either. If he had to dance attendance on a woman, it might as well be interesting.
“Goodness, no,” said Lady Courtenay with a laugh. “How can we talk of Douglas when the poor boy’s not here to defend himself?”
“Much more easily than if he were here,” murmured Miss Bennet.
Tristan coughed to cover a laugh. “I hope Lady Bennet is recovering her health.”
“We’ve only had a brief letter from Sir George,” said Lady Courtenay. “They were obliged to stop in Bath, which I believe may be very fortunate. I’ve always found Bath so invigorating, but also restful. Have you ever visited Bath, Lord Burke?”
“Er.” There had been one dreadful summer, when he was eleven, when he’d been unable to secure an invitation to any schoolmate’s home and had been forced to spend a month in Bath with his aunt and uncle. Aunt Mary had been expecting then, and her pregnancy had made her more unbearable than ever. Not from ill humor; on the contrary, she’d been certain she would have a son, thus removing Tristan from any claim to the Burke title, and she’d been in exceptionally good spirits the whole time. He always wondered how great her disappointment had been to have two daughters instead of a son. But he would always remember Bath for the complacent smile she had given him every day of that horrid month.
He shook off the bad memory. “Not really, Lady Courtenay,” he replied. “I merely passed through once.”
She was watching him thoughtfully. “You must stop sometime. It’s a lovely town.”
He just nodded as the maid came in with the tray of tea. Lady Courtenay bid her niece pour, barely interrupting her attention to him. “But here I am, encouraging you to leave town, when London holds so many diversions, it would take a lifetime to enjoy them all! Just this morning we were discussing which invitations to accept. Does Lady Brentwood serve decent wine at her balls?”
“Ah ...” He stared at her. “I’ve no idea, ma’am.”
Lady Courtenay made a face and waved one hand. “Oh, we shall have to take the risk, then. At least we may count upon Lady Martin to have a fine selection at her soiree on Thursday. Joan, you may send our acceptance to Lady Brentwood this afternoon. Will we see you there, Lord Burke?”
He looked at Miss Bennet as she handed him a cup of tea. Dancing with her once or twice would satisfy his debt to Bennet, after all. “Likely so, Lady Courtenay.” The lady across from him lowered her gaze, but not before he saw her roll her eyes. “Perhaps Miss Bennet will save me a dance that evening.”
Her head came up in surprise, but then a faint smirk touched her lips. “I’m afraid I cannot, sir.”
Tristan almost dropped the teacup. He didn’t ask many ladies to dance, but when he did, he was never refused—never. Instead of being a relief, it made him want to dance with her more than anything. He wanted to know if she still smelled lovely. He wanted to feel her against him again. And damn it, he did not want to be refused. “Your brother exacted my explicit promise to dance with you.”
She smiled at him in the overly bright way he had come to mistrust. “Goodness! What a dilemma. My mother exactedmyexplicit promise not to dance with you. I expect they’ll have to fight it out—although I assure you, Mother will defeat Douglas every time.”
“Perhaps she should have done so before he required my own oath.” That wiped the smug look off her face. “However, since neither of them is here, I propose we turn to a neutral party to render a decision. Lady Courtenay,” he said, without taking his eyes off Miss Bennet, “which promise must be considered the stronger: mine to Mr. Bennet, to see to his sister’s well-being and contentment, or hers to her mother, to refuse an honest entreaty to dance?”
Lady Courtenay laughed. “Well! As a woman who was once a girl, hoping not to sit out a single set, I’m sure I’d grant the dance, provided ...” She glanced at her niece. “Provided it was solicited with the best intentions, seeking only the enjoyment of both partners, and not just out of grim obligation.”
“The look on his face is quite grim, Aunt,” said Miss Bennet, gleeful once more. “I cannot think he anticipates any pleasure in dancing with me.”
“Should I, since the mere request for a dance has caused an argument?” Tristan sipped his tea. “I shall have the satisfaction of keeping my word, of course.”
“My,” said Lady Courtenay admiringly. “I never could turn down a chance to prove a man wrong.”
“I accept,” said her niece at almost the same moment.
A fierce burst of triumph surged through Tristan. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground; she probably intended to hand him his head on a silver platter. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about what gossip it might stir up. He didn’t want to think about the dangers of spending even more time with her. Just the prospect of touching her again seemed to override all his good sense.
A footman came into the room and handed Lady Courtenay a letter. She read the direction on the front, and almost leapt out of her chair. “Oh! You must excuse me. I’ve been expecting this letter and may need to reply at once. Joan dear, will you pour our guest more tea?”
“Is it bad news expected?” asked Miss Bennet in alarm.
“No, no—that is, I hope not.” Her aunt was already moving toward the door. “Carry on without me. I’ll be back in a moment!” She vanished out the door, pulling it gently closed behind her.
Tristan, who’d jumped to his feet when she stood, turned to Miss Bennet. She looked as nonplussed as he felt, but she gathered herself quickly, reaching for the teapot and filling her cup to the brim again. “I wonder how long she’d been wanting to sneak out.”
Slowly he returned to his seat. All his words of warning to Bennet echoed in his mind, about women maneuvering men into marriage. He’d already identified Lady Courtenay as a Fury to be reckoned with ... “You think it was planned?”
