She immediately responded with a thoughtful question …
Before he realized it, the music was drawing to an end and the surrounding couples were beginning to leave the floor. Branford found himself irritated that the dance was over so quickly. “It appears we will have to wait for another waltz to continue our conversation. Shall we say the one after the supper break?”
“If you wish, milord.” answered Alex, her chin thrust up slightly as if to indicate that she was not in the least bit intimidated by him.
“Excellent.” He delivered back to her aunt and it was only as he was walking away that he realized that he had utterlyforgotten the real reason for why he had asked her to dance in the first place.
Drat. How had he become so distracted? His purpose had been to confirm the girl’s availability for a dalliance and figure out a plan of seduction … and yet, what had he done but begin a conversation on botany!No matter, Branford reminded himself. He would guide the conversation to suit his own desire during the next dance.
Taking up a fresh glass of champagne, he sought out an empty corner of the room. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on was bothering him, and try as he might to shake the feeling, it kept drawing his attention to the half-obscured figure of Alex Chilton sitting silently among the turbaned matrons.
A lovely widow with whom he had recently dallied with swept close by and tried to catch his eye, but the earl pointedly ignored her. He had no intention of dancing any more than he had to this evening. Tapping his foot impatiently on the polished parquet, Branford once again cursed his judgement—or lack of it—in letting himself become embroiled in such a brainless wager.
Tap, tap …
Then suddenly it struck him. Alex Cilton had not once batted her rather attractive lashes at him, nor had she simpered or murmured outrageous flatteries at him. On the contrary, he thought with a twitch of a smile—she had all but called him a gudgeon. There was, he admitted, something alluring about her interesting eyes, but it was not artificial gaiety or a forced fawning.
In short, she had not made any attempt to flirt with him.
The realization only served to increase his suspicion that something was not quite right about the damnable wager. Surely if she was as experienced in the world as he had been led to believe …
His thoughts were interrupted as Branford saw a short, somewhat plump middle-aged gentleman squeeze his way through the crowd and begin to converse with Alex. Garbed in evening clothes that most assuredly had not been fashioned by one of London leading tailors, the fellow looked as much a country dweller as the young lady herself. But Alex was evidently glad to see him, as evidenced by the warm smile that lit up her face.
Branford could see its glow through the swirl of fancy silks and flickering candles.
Alex then rose in response to something he said, and they began to make their way toward the supper room.
The earl waited a moment, then followed. Ignoring the platters of sumptuous delicacies on offer for those who were feeling peckish, he took up a position close to where she and her acquaintance had taken seats in order to enjoy a selection of lobster patties and foie gras.
She appeared not to notice his arrival.
He made a point of shifting two or three steps to his left, placing himself directly in her line of sight.
Still not the slightest acknowledgement of his presence.Her attention was riveted on her companion, who was speaking with great animation, punctuating his points with a flourish of his silver fork.
“Ah, there you are, Sebastian. Are you going to be so rag-mannered as to avoid me entirely tonight?”
Branford turned around to face a petite blonde whose porcelain skin and artfully arranged curls gave her the look of a delicate doll. However, he knew better than to be deceived by such an innocent appearance. Few who knew her cared to match wills with Lady Cecilia Ashton.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He flashed a smile as he bent over her hand, mentally revising his earlier statement to Alex Chilton.Lady Ashton was one of the few ladies he knew who possessed sharp intelligence and common sense, along with her more obvious charms. “I was merely waiting until the bevy of your admirers thinned to a manageable number before storming their ranks.”
“What fustian,” she exclaimed, giving him a rap on the arm with her fan. “You are the last person on earth I would expect to simper silly platitudes at me like a veritable toadeater!”
Branford gave a low laugh. “I can’t recall ever being called a toadeater.”
“Of that I’m sure,” she answered, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Now, am I to be favored with a dance?” She consulted the card at her wrist. “I’m sure Henry will forego the pleasure of the next waltz.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m promised for that one.” His eyes strayed to Alex.
Lady Ashton followed the subtle shift of his gaze and then fixed him with a speculative look. “Interesting.”
To his consternation, Branford felt a slight flush stealing over his face. Lord Ashton saved him from having to make any reply by approaching and slipping an arm around his wife’s diminutive waist.
“I believe our dance is drawing nigh, my dear. It seems that it’s the only chance I shall have all evening of wresting you away from that damn group of jackanapes who insist on hovering around you.”
“Mind your tongue, Henry,” scolded Cecilia. “We are not at home.”
“I wish we were. You know I abhor these tedious affairs,” he grumbled.
