By the end, Dorian drew her right into his chest, cupped her cheek, and kissed her.
It was not as passionate as their many others, but even as chaste as the peck was, it still had the guests take notice.
“We’ll be in the papers by tomorrow,” she murmured.
“Good,” he grinned as he swept her off the floor. “That’s just what I need.”
“Why?”
“Because no one will be surprised if we disappear for a while,” Dorian said as they took two more glasses of liquor to a balcony. “Young married couples are notorious for slipping away. That is the one time thele bon tonturns a blind eye.”
While nursing the drink, Ellie watched as lords and ladies twirled with elegant vigor across the dance floor. Chatter and laughter floated in the air, and the champagne flowed freely.
“Your Grace,” a footman bowed, “Lord Carrington would like to speak with you and your wife in his gold drawing room.”
Dorian looked up at the staircase. “I was wondering how long it would take him.” Craning his head to Ellie, he nodded, “Shall we?”
After leaving the ballroom and traveling up the flight of grand stairs, with two corridors down, Ellie had to stifle a shudder at the drawing room’s decoration. The gold-on-gold damask wallpaper, which she supposed was to vaunt wealth and affluence, was an eyesore.
Carrington turned from a bar of liquor; his dark suit clashed with the burnished gold of his waistcoat. His dark eyes landed on Ellie first and stayed there.
“I never got to ask you…” This time his eyes did flicker to Dorian. “How did you meet?”
“Does it matter?” Dorian asked calmly.
“I suppose it does not, not anymore since you are married.” Carrington moved to a dry bar and poured out a glass of brandy and one of sweet wine. He rested them on the coffee table and gestured for the pair to sit. “Indulge me anyhow.”
“We crossed paths before,” Ellie began. “Sir Alexander DuPont’s hunting party. You do remember that one?”
“I… believe so,” Carrington mused aloud.
“I’d snuck outside, and he was there, but I had not seen him first. When I did see him, I asked if he thought the stars told stories. He said—”
“If they did, they are not the ones I am familiar with,” Dorian finished easily.
“That does seem like something he would say,” Carrington murmured, while sitting back and swirling his wine.
“When I left, it did not take long to ask around for his townhouse and from there—” She shrugged. “—C’est la vie.”
Carrington’s eyes shifted to Dorian, then back to Ellie. “Beaumont here has many townhouses,” he put in. “Which one did you find him in?”
“The one on Fleet Street,” Dorian said with an exasperated sigh. “After my footman at Grosvenor told her where to go. Why the Spanish Inquisition, Carrington?”
CHAPTER 16
“Simple curiosity,” Carrington said cavalierly. “Doesn’t a man have the right to know how he was bested by an old friend?”
Even two floors up, she heard the strains of the music and the chatter from the ballroom. “Do we have to say you were bested?” Ellie asked as she fiddled with a pin in her hair.
“Isstolena better word?” Carrington asked.
“That’s it,” Dorian said, rising. “I am bored with this marionette show. Throw down the gauntlet already or slap me with it. If you want to meet me at dawn to assuage your honor, I can do that. Just tell me what it is, and we can arrange it.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Ellie implored them both, her eyes shooting between Carrington’s hard black ones and Dorian’s face. “Can’t we find another way to settle this,withoutbloodshed?”
“Carrington has always been fond of bloodshed,” Dorian muttered, reposing in his chair. “But I’d prefer if you leave, sweetheart, while he and I have a few choice words. A few heated words. Words not fit for a woman, much less a lady.”
Once again, she hesitated. “But I’d—”
