Eleanor smiled. Something inside of him stirred as he discovered that she had dimples. “There’s been no crime. Her Ladyship has something my friend needs, and my company is the price.”
There was a joyful thread woven through her tone, one that matched her demeanor, if such a thing was possible. It was clear and light and seemed to knit the space between them. Instead of brushing the strange notion aside, he took her arm and drew her out of the butler’s earshot. For a moment, at least, the joyful thread would be all his.
She didn’t pull away. For that, he was unduly happy. “She must be a good friend. Is the thing she wants worth the cost?”
Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “The cost itself feels like a prize. What other opportunity will I have to experience aristocrats in their natural environment?”
She was frank, at least. “First the zoo and now a London ball. You are quite the naturalist.” She was the second woman this week to show interest in firsthand discovery. Perhaps Eleanor and Booklover would be friends if they met.
“A ball is its own form of zoo, isn’t it? Surely you agree that the aristocracy is a completely different species to ours.” She cocked her head. “What areyoudoing here? You’re not a minister, are you? I thought you were a secretary or some such.”
Damn.He should tell her the truth. She’d mistaken him for a parliamentary employee, and he hadn’t corrected her because he hadn’t wanted to. It was rather liberating to be “Peter” and not “Your Grace” or “Duke.” That would change once she found out who he was.
“I’m something like that,” he answered, deliberately vague. “My work requires maintaining relationships with those who make decisions.”
She was not satisfied with the response, but just as her lips pursed to ask another question, he heard the nasal resonance of Lady Cecilia Pullman, the huntress he’d been avoiding. There were no depths that woman wouldn’t stoop to in order to become the next Duchess of Strafford.
He grabbed Eleanor and tugged her behind a potted palm. She tripped and he steadied her, his throat catching as his fingers wrapped around her waist and he realized that he liked them there.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. She nudged a frond aside so she could peer past the tree and he released her.
He ducked his head over her shoulder so that he, too, had a view of the room. Eleanor was close enough that he could smell her perfume—orange blossoms, maybe—and his groin roused. Only now, with just inches between them, did he realize how disappointed he’d been when she’d walked away a week ago, leaving no way to see her again.
Of course, if she was going to move in his circle for any length of time, she would quickly learn who he was and then the easy conversation they had would shift. If she learned that the Linotype existed and that he was responsible for it, he doubted she’d speak with him again.
Peter flexed his hands and then clasped them firmly to keep himself from grazing his thumb across her side or putting a hand on the small of her back. His body’s response to her was unexpected. He rarely hungered for a woman. He rarely had the time. That he was attracted toher—a woman whose perception of him would change the moment she discovered his true identity—was decidedly inconvenient. He drew in a deep breath anyway and let the scent of her permeate him.
Lady Cecilia entered the foyer with two friends in tow. The scowl she bore was a stark contrast to the angelic facade she’d presented when she’d forced him into a dance.
“I saw him come this way,” said one of her sentinels.
Cecilia dug her fingers into her gloves. “You were supposed to be monitoring, Abigail.”
“Iwas. I only looked away for a moment.”
“Who was he last seen speaking to? Do we know where she is?”
“He was speaking with his sister. She is still in the ballroom.”
“Do you think that he left?” the other girl said. “Perhaps he’s chosen his duchess already. He hasn’t danced with anyone since Lady Josephine. They say he is quite determined to find a bride quickly, given what happened last season.”
Cecilia snapped her head about to shoot daggers at her companion. “Which is precisely why you were supposed to have eyes on him the entire time.”
“Sorry.”
Cecilia took a deep, frustrated breath. “He is still here somewhere. He would not have left his sisters behind.”
Eleanor turned to Peter, a sparkle in those captivating eyes. Her cheeks flushed, and her kissable lips curved into a grin. “This is fascinating. Itisjust like a zoo.”
“And they are truly hyenas,” he murmured as her attention returned to the women in the foyer. “Or wolves.” And he was their prey. The muscles around his rib cage tightened.
Cecilia stood with her hands on her hips. Her lips pressed together as she studied her lackeys. “Do we know where he’s going to be tomorrow night?”
“He’s friends with the Earl of Symonston. There’s a very real chance that he’ll be there.”
“But then, Lady Winston is also hosting a ball. She is a good friend of his sisters.”
Cecilia stamped her foot. “What we need is inside intelligence, but there has been no luck finding someone within his household willing to help. The duke’s staff is loyal. Ugh.”
