“You surprise, me,” he said with a tone that suggested his curiosity had overtaken him. “You are not at all what I expected.”
“Oh?” She raised a brow. “Pray tell…what did you expect?”
“An uptight prudish woman raised to be the epitome of what society expects,” he said bluntly.
She laughed. How could she not. “Well, there are certain expectations a lady must live by.” She leaned in a little closer. “But I have never truly been entirely proper.” Where was all this flirting coming from? She had never been so bold in her entire life. “How acquainted are you with The Duke of Lionston? He recently married one of my dearest friends.’
Thornhill’s smile remained. “I am acquainted with half of London. Lionston merely happens to be among the more interesting half.”
“Do you know the Earl of Ravenwood?”
A pause so small most would not notice. Vivy noticed.
“Ravenwood is not easily described.” Thornhill’s eyes stayed on hers. “But I hear you may be more familiar with him than most. Didn’t he dance with you at the Whitcombe ball?”
“No,” Vivy agreed softly. “He is not.” She purposely ignored his question about the previous ball. Though he may believe that was why she was interested in him.
Thornhill’s gaze sharpened, curiosity pricking through charm. “So, you are acquainted with him.”
“I have danced with him once,” Vivy admitted. “I am not given to embellishment.”
“How refreshing.” Thornhill’s tone turned playful again. “And did he make your heart flutter, as he seems determined to do to every woman who looks in his direction?”
“My heart is none of your concern.” Vivy’s smile did not waver. She tilted his head to the side. “But that makes me think you do not know him at all. He is not a consummate flirt.” He rarely spoke to anyone at social events. She had watched him before he left for the war, and last evening he had rarely spoke to any of the guests. In fact, the only person other than her and her mother he had spoken to was the Duke of Lionston.
His brows lifted. “Touché again. I begin to think you might be dangerous, Lady Lavinia.”
“I have been told I am difficult,” she returned.
Thornhill’s eyes glittered. “I prefer difficult. It suggests you may have a bit of intelligence at your disposal.”
Before Vivy could reply, the air behind her shifted. There was no sound or a breeze that would be more noticeable. No this was something far more subtle. The unmistakable sensation of a shadow falling across candlelight. She straightened her spine and she did not need to turn to know what she would find. She turned anyway.
Lord Ravenwood stood beside them, his expression composed enough to pass as polite, but his eyes were hard, the gold-green flecks caught the light from the chandelier like a warning.
He flicked his gaze to Thornhill first. It was sharp and assessing as he studied him, and then he met Vivy’s gaze. His gaze lingered on her with an intensity that made her pulse stutter.
“Lady Lavinia,” he said, voice even.
“Lord Ravenwood,” she replied, matching his formality, though her temper rose. But she could not explain why. Perhaps it was something in the way he stared at her.
Thornhill bowed, unbothered. “Ravenwood. I did not realize you were attending tonight.”
“I decided at the last moment,” Ravenwood said. His gaze did not leave Thornhill’s face. “One does so, occasionally.”
The words were mild, but the meaning was not.
Thornhill’s smile returned…slow and knowing. “I was just enjoying Lady Lavinia’s company.”
“I see that,” Ravenwood replied.
Vivy drew her brows together. “Is there some objection I should be aware of, my lord?”
Ravenwood snapped his gaze to hers. For a fraction of a second, she saw something there, something rawer than annoyance. Concern, perhaps…and beneath it, a warning he seemed desperate to keep unspoken.
His voice remained controlled as he spoke. “You ought not to be troubled with certain company.”
Thornhill laughed softly. “Certain company? How ominous. Am I suddenly suspect, Ravenwood? I shall be wounded.”
