He slipped into the crowd as the Winfords said their good evenings, and that left Derrick alone with them. Here was the open door. He just needed to find a way through it.
“You’re not just some common soldier,” Lady Winford said, tilting her head. “Why do I know your name? Huntington…”
Derrick stiffened at the way she saidcommon soldier. Dismissive, but that was a familiar experience when it came to people of this sphere. They couldn’t see value in anything that was different from themselves. As if the luck of birth made anyone better than anyone else.
“The Earl of Brillshire, isn’t it?” Winford said, his interest returning to Derrick in an instant. “Your father?”
Derrick fought the urge to be snide and remembered his case. “My grandfather, actually. My father is his third son, the Honorable Roger Huntington.”
“Really,” Lady Winford said, the interest in her gaze jumping higher. “That must be it. I believe we’ve met your father before, at soirees in London.”
“I’m certain you have,” Derrick said softly. “He and my mother are happy to join the fray.”
“But you are not,” Lord Winford said, the dismissive sound back to his voice. “Happier to go slumming in the army, eh?”
Derrick set his jaw and was trying not to make a crude rejoinder when suddenly Selina stepped into the circle of their group. “Lord and Lady Winford, how lovely to see you again. Are you enjoying the party?”
The Winfords looked at her in what appeared to be surprise at her intrusion, but if she felt that, she didn’t show it. Selina’s expression was just one of pure innocence. A mask if he’d ever seen one, because he knew what wicked things lurked beneath it.
“Good evening, Miss Oliver.” It was Lord Winford who answered first. And if he had looked dismissive of Derrick, now he had much more interest in his stare as he looked down at Selina. Derrick’s stomach clenched at the leer the man didn’t even try to hide.
Selina seemed oblivious to it. She merely pivoted toward Lady Winford with another of those dazzling smiles. “I admit, Lady Winford, I came over with the desire to see the famous Breston necklace!”
Derrick caught his breath at her boldness. What the hell was she doing? He fought an urge to catch her arm, drag her away and cause what would surely be a scene.
“That isn’t it, is it?” she continued, apparently unaware to his discomfort as she pointed to a ring of diamonds around the lady’s neck.
Lady Winford glanced down at herself and then shook her head. “These? Good gracious, no. This is just some silly thing Winford bought me a few years ago.” Derrick noted the slight flinch and the deeper frown that comment elicited from Winford. “No, the Breston is far finer, I assure you. I wouldn’t wear it to justanyevent, though I do have it here, of course. With that Faceless Fox character flitting around, one cannot be too careful.”
“No,” Selina said with a smile. “One can most definitely not. Wicked creature, that one. But will you wear it here? I dolongto see it.”
Lady Winford sniffed at her. “I’m sure you do. The little thrills one’s betters can give must be what you live on. Perhaps I’ll wear it at the end of the event.” She turned then and speared her husband with a glare. “Come, Winford, I see the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield. They aren’t the most important here, but they’re friends of Roseford, so it will behoove us to do a good deed. Good evening, Mr. Huntington.”
The couple didn’t even say a proper farewell to Selina. Winford leered a bit, Lady Winford sniffed again, and then they were off, winding their way through the crowd toward the Sheffields.
Derrick pivoted on Selina, ready to launch into a tirade over her interference. He was stopped by the smile on her face, wicked and pointed and aimed directly at him.
“Well, Mr. Huntington,” she said, reaching to take his arm. Her fingers snaked around his elbow, warm and firm and oh-so-tantalizing. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”
He blinked. “Dance?” he repeated, thrown from his game for a moment by the question.
“Yes,” she said with a laugh that turned more than a few heads in her direction. “It’s when you hold a lady in your arms and move in time to the music.”
He fought a smile that threatened to twitch at his lips. “I’m aware of the particulars of the exercise, Miss Oliver. Do you want to dance with me?”
“That’s why I asked you,” she said with another of those flirtatious smiles. She caught his hand. “Come on, forget everything else and let’s go.”
She dragged him forward and suddenly they were in the middle of the dancefloor, the strains of the waltz rising up around them. He positioned his hand, one holding hers, the other resting on the swell of her hip. God, but he felt that curve in every fiber of his being.
As they began to move, she smiled at him again, that little wicked, knowing tease of a smile. “Derrick, no one else knows your true purpose here. In all their minds, you’re a guest. So you better start acting like one.”
Derrick let out his breath in a long sigh and then threw himself into the steps just like he’d been taught years ago when he was another man with another life.
Derrick’s fingers were on her hip. Certainly, Selina had danced with many a man in her life. Waltzes and cotillions and everything in between. But never had she been so aware of the pressure of a man’s long, lean fingers against her hip, almost like she wasn’t wearing anything at all and those fingers were pressed there for another purpose.
She swallowed and tried to pull herself together. She was supposed to be in control in this situation, even if she turned it into a seduction. She needed to get to that control right now.
She held his stare for a moment. He moved gracefully, but she could see the effort it required. His jaw was clenched, his eyes focused, sometimes on her, sometimes on his own feet, and she could swear he was counting in his head.
