Chapter Seven
William took Lady Lanora’s extended hand, bowing over it. Thus far, he’d maintained his distance, for she and her father could easily learn he’d never set foot in Egypt. Now, he found the cold perfection glimpsed from afar was nothing compared to the spark held deep in her emerald green eyes.
“Lord William.” She annunciated with precision, but he’d heard her speaking as Mrs. Smith. He could tease from those short syllables the soft country lilt she kept hidden.
“Lady Lanora. I have long wished to avail myself of your renowned beauty for the length of a set.”
The aunt, frumpy and too-shrewd, gave a satisfied nod and turned away, effectively cutting them off from the gaggle of matrons at his back.
“Is that your version of requesting a dance, my lord?”
William couldn’t contain a smile as he permitted his gaze to roam over her. She was so very cool. Her façade was impeccable. If he didn’t know she donned dowdy garb and passed out bread in the poorest corner of London, he would have deemed her not worth his while. Her beauty was flawless, but William required something more than outward charms to stir his interest. At the least, a woman should have a notion of how they might enjoy themselves.
Not a line marred Lady Lanora’s brow as she attempted to tug her fingers from his. “I can see you are confounded by a simple question. If you’ll excuse me, my lord.”
Far from relinquishing her, William raised her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “My apologies. I was struck dumb by your beauty. That was, indeed, my attempt at inviting you to dance.”
With an assertive pull, she drew her hand away. “I’m afraid, though my card is not yet filled out, my time is promised. I have existing arrangements.”
“Oh? With someone special?” Which would ruin his plans. If he must be courting someone from Lethbridge’s list, Lady Lanora was the only remotely interesting option.
She cast a quick look about at the growing ring of observers. “No one is special, my lord.”
Did she truly mean no one was special, or was she simply trying to disparage the hungry looking fellows who edged nearer to overhear them? Fortune hunters. Bounders. Social climbers. She was correct. Not a one of them was worthy of her.
“Surely you have a waltz free?” He hadn’t thought her frame could go any more rigid, but it did.
“Only because, as you have must have observed, I do not approve of the dance.”
So rumor had it. “I’ve never seen you attempt it, whether to approve or disapprove.” He added a touch of mockery to his tone.
“Why should I attempt that which is scandalous?”
He leaned near, lowering his voice. “If you agree to one waltz with me, I shall not make a scene here and now.”
“Extortion, my lord?” Her eyes narrowed. “I should have thought, even with your reputation, such tactics would be beneath you.”
William offered a lazy smile, one that served him well with all manner of women. “So you follow my reputation? Then you should know I am the worst sort of scoundrel. No tactic is beneath me when confronted with beauty such as yours.”
“You seek to impress me with your infamy?”
If not for the quickening of her pulse, discernable in her slender neck, he would have deemed her wholly unaffected. “Women love a bounder.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “You will deny it, but they do. Look to every parlor in London. You’ll find clippings of that rogue Lefthook, carefully gathered by trembling hands and oft clutched to heaving maidenly bosoms.”
“From what I have heard, Lord Lefthook is not a rogue at all.” Her words were clipped. “Though obviously a man of little means, he risks himself to aid others.”
“A man of little means, is he?” The idea amused William.
“It can be deduced he knows the part of the city he roams rather well, as he’s not known to have failed in any of his feats. He apparently patrols it with ease.” She shrugged, the motion much more entrancing than when most women employed it. “Therefore, he lives there. How else could he be so familiar?”
“And a man who lives in that borough must be poor.” Like all theton, she would look down on one who didn’t reside in the proper part of London.
Green eyes studied him. William realized he’d let a hint of bitterness touch his voice. He endeavored for another easy smile. It felt stale.
“A poor man can be every inch as good as a wealthy man,” her words were soft. “An argument might be made that it’s more likely so.”
William didn’t conceal his surprise. This was the hidden side of Lady Lanora. “Hardly a fitting philosophy for the daughter of a duke.”
The coldness in her demeanor redoubled. “I daresay not. My point remains. Lefthook is obviously an honorable man.” She squared her shoulders. “Unlike you, my lord.”
