“Excellent.” Jamie took her hand, placed it on his arm, and led her to the dance floor. As the waltz began, he drew her into his arms.
“I did not agree to this, nor am I sure I wish to, considering how intent you seem on harming me, Lord Stafford.”
“I shall endeavor not to step on your toes, my lady.”
Since the night she had asked if Kenneth Jackson had been his housemaster, Jamie had been unable to think of much else. His leads in the search for the man had gone cold, and if the woman now in his arms had any clue as to Jackson’s whereabouts, he wanted it.
Looking down at her, Jamie noted the delicate lines of her face, the soft curve of her upper lip. A faint flush warmed her cheeks. Whether it came from his imperious behavior or the heat of the room, he couldn’t tell. Her dark hair was swept up and pinned with tiny diamonds that caught the light above. She truly was beautiful, and he wondered how she had remained unwed for so long.
“Are you always so presumptuous when you want to dance, my lord?”
“No. And if I say I’m sorry, will that suffice?” Jamie asked. “I wished to speak with you.”
“About what? Because the last time I was in your company—reluctantly—you failed to answer the question I posed. I’m unsure why you think I’ll answer yours.”
She wore deep sapphire blue. The neckline was modest compared to others, but he could still see the faint swell of her breasts, and that single glance made his blood heat. He didn’t know much about her, only what others said, but since that night, he’d wanted to know more. Still, he would be cautious. If anyone suspected he was interested in an unmarried lady, gossip would spread.
“Why did you ask whether Mr. Kenneth Jackson was my housemaster?”
“Why didn’t you answer me when I asked it?” she countered.
They moved through several steps in silence while Jamie considered his reply.
“If you must know,” she said, “since you’ve no wish to speak, Lord Stafford, I want to know his whereabouts.”
Jamie took a deep, steadying breath, something he was accustomed to doing whenever that man’s name was spoken. Her scent filled his senses, the same scent that lingered on the handkerchief he had no right to keep beneath his pillow.
“Why?” he managed, keeping his voice even, though his heart was pounding. Few names could evoke such fury, but Kenneth Jackson’s could.
“I need to find him, obviously,” she said, looking up at Jamie. He saw the turmoil in her eyes. She sounded calm, but she was anything but.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “He was my housemaster.”
Her expression softened into sympathy before she blinked it away, the cool society lady once more.
“He is not a man for the likes of you to have dealings with, Lady Alice.”
“I can look after myself,” she replied. “I’ve been doing so since my brother passed away.”
Jamie knew then why she sought Kenneth Jackson, because the man had harmed her brother. It was the only explanation.
“Don’t do it, my lady.”
“What?” Their eyes locked.
“Revenge is not something to be taken lightly, especially with a man such as he.”
“You want it, my lord, yet I cannot have the same for my brother?”
“I have more reasons than my own for seeking revenge, my lady.”
“What reasons?” she demanded.
Thankfully, the music ended then. They glared at one another for several heartbeats before she turned and walked away without another word. He went in the opposite direction, making for his friends.
Anthony held out a piece of paper as he approached.
“What is this?”
