The words were barely out of his mouth before she was pulling her arm free. The weasel was always using any excuse to get her alone.
“No!” she exclaimed a little too emphatically, causing a few curious glances to dart their way. Lowering her voice, she added more quietly, but just as firmly, “Please don’t trouble yourself. I’m quite capable of managing on my own.” With that, she fled before he had a chance to argue further.
Knowing Lady Trenton would never allow her daughter to retire a moment before two o’clock unless it was an absolute emergency — even then figuring most any problem was negotiable — the time for debate was now past.
Triana was leaving.
But after an extensive search proved fruitless, Triana clenched her hands in frustration. Her mother had ostensibly disappeared, but she gained a certain solace in the knowledge that the countess couldn’t hide forever.
Chapter Two
Gabriel Wilde lingered near the entrance to the Kensington ballroom, using the lull from his arrival to glance around his surroundings with a watchful gaze. Although he wasn’t due to meet with his contact until midnight, he was still wary of anything that might appear out of place.
Thus far, no warning bells sounded in his head. It seemed to be a rather typical, society ball, with the wallflowers on one end of the room, the gossiping matrons along another, with everything else in between. If he had been a dandy, rather than the spy he was, he might have appreciated the beauty around him, the sprinkle of tiny prisms that were cast about the flower-filled setting from the three, massive chandeliers above. There was no doubt that the decorations had certainly been given to grand detail, but Gabriel knew that thetonthrived on the show as much as the attendance.
At that moment, a gaggle of simpering debutantes walked by and boldly eyed him with avid interest before their cheeks reddened and they scurried by, their white dresses trailing behind them like an innocent flutter of wings. With a sardonic twist to his lips, Gabriel knew he was being hunted as much as any grouse in the country, but he was merely doing his duty by being here. He wasn’t even in the market for a mistress at the moment, and certainly not some silly bride fresh from the schoolroom.
“Your Grace! I’m so pleased you were able to fit my modest gathering into your busy schedule!”
Gabriel slowly turned and bestowed an amused grin upon the older woman who’d come up and playfully tapped him on the shoulder with her fan.
Bowing low over her outstretched hand, he murmured, “Lady Kensington, I could not have lived with myself if I were to let you down, and I would not dare call a gathering of more than three hundred of my peers as simply modest.” He lightly kissed her gloved knuckles before straightening, but not before a lock of hair carelessly fell over his forehead.
Instantly, her fan snapped open and began to flutter wildly as bright color rushed to encompass her face. “Oh my, you’re a rather flattering devil, aren’t you?” She gave a boisterous laugh. “But I fear we all knew you would be full of that arrogant charm if you even remotely took after your dear, departed father.”
He chose to ignore the remark about his sire, though he inclined his head and gallantly replied, “I do try, Lady Kensington.” After a scandalous wink, he excused himself and proceeded farther into the ballroom, leaving his hostess’ almost girlish chuckle in his wake.
Continuing his assessment of the occupants, Gabriel couldn’t help but clench his jaw at any mention of the former duke. He hadn’t been there when the old man had passed, nor bothered to return to Chiltern Hall for the funeral. Needless to say, it was a vast understatement to say that they had not parted on good terms, just as the rumor mills claimed. In truth, he wouldn’t even be in England right now if it wasn’t for the sake of his current mission. While assuming his birthright had been an eventuality, it had always hovered like a dark cloud over his existence. He had never wanted the dukedom — and in truth, he didn’t know if he would ever step into that role gracefully. Was it even possible to decline such a supposed honor?
He was just about to dismiss the crowd when something captured his attention. Immediately, a ghost of a smile touched his full, masculine lips as he watched the lively raven-haired lady, clad in a simple, but elegant, lavender gown, pop her head out of the throng every now and again, as if she were searching for someone. The spectacle she presented was almost comical, but he found himself intrigued, all the same.
He didn’t have to guess who she was. Travell had spoken of his sister often enough that Gabriel felt he knew her personally. And one would have to be blind not to see the family resemblance, although he had to say the viscount came out lacking in this instance. With that creamy skin and curvaceous figure any man would enjoy discovering, Gabriel was not immune to the fact Triana Abernathy was a lovely woman.
He could just imagine how beautiful she would be if she ever smiled.
But never one to mix business with pleasure, for such restraint had kept him gratefully alive over the years; Gabriel knew when to keep his distance from temptation — especially when the lady in question was firmly off limits for the lascivious images he had in mind.
A pity, to be sure.
Accepting a glass of Madeira from a nearby footman, he glanced around in an attempt to relocate Triana, but was vaguely disheartened when he didn’t see her again. Somewhat annoyed that this one bit of amusement had been taken away, he took a sip of the sparkling wine. Sensing a sudden presence beside him, he instinctively stiffened in response; although it was so fractional the action wasn’t visibly noticeable.
“So you’ve finally honored us with your presence, Your Grace.”
The familiar, sultry voice drifted over his shoulder as he slowly lowered his glass.
Lifting a lazy brow, he turned and met the green, assessing gaze of Cordelia Westchester, the Marchioness of Worthington. “My lady, it’s a pleasure. As always.”
He raised her hand to his lips and lifted his smoldering gaze to hers, peering through long, dark lashes. It was a seduction tactic he’d perfected in unbalancing the female opponent — a skill that had worked many times in the past. He wasn’t surprised to find it didn’t fail him now.
Lady Worthington’s full mouth turned upward at once into a self-satisfied grin, as a cat might wear after having filled its belly with tasty cream. “I’m glad to hear that, Your Grace.” She leaned closer, the scent of lilacs surrounding him as her voice took on an alluring quality. “I feared your affection for me was beginning to wane as I’ve been forced to see you in passing. You haven’t kept your promise to call since you gallantly escorted me home from Madame Tremaine’s shop.”
Gabriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he brought to mind the seemingly incidental encounter.Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I have been to your townhouse. You just aren’t around when I’m there.Aloud, he replied, “I’m afraid recent estate matters and a rush of invitations have taken up most of my time, but I intend to rectify the situation as soon as possible.” With a slow grin, he imparted, “I do hope my illustrious lady can find it in her heart to forgive my wayward behavior.”
Cordelia arched a delicate, blond brow. “Perhaps I like having you at my mercy,” she murmured.
He inclined his head, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Mayhap you should consider a fitting punishment for my negligence, then.”
“Indeed,” she stated with a wry curve of her lips before turning to leave. Pausing, she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes dancing mischievously. “I shall expect a waltz from you before the evening is out. Consider it an advance in payment.”
