There, that was one problem solved. Nowfor the other.
Lady Emma and her grandmother were propped on the gilt chairs lined up at the edges of the ballroom, Lord Dunn with them. Samuel narrowed his eyes, his gaze once again caught by that damnable green ribbon peeking through the locks of her hair.
Dunn remained to exchange pleasantries, keeping the half-dozen swains who were waiting to pounce on her at bay, each of them more determined than the last to write his name on her dance card the momentDunn was gone.
But none of them were more determined than Samuel.
He might have gone to her then, to finish the business they’d begun at the Royal Academy this afternoon. He might have marched across the ballroom as Lovell had done, scattering the swains surrounding her, all of them giving way by instinct to the fiercest competitor.
He’d been biding his time all evening, waiting for the right moment to approach her, but this wasn’t it. No, he’d need privacy for his next skirmish with Lady Emma.
Or was it an ambush?
Samuel tried to ignore a thrill of anticipation as he made his way across the ballroom, and bowed before Lady Mary Worthington.
Soon, but not yet.
* * * *
“As you can imagine, Lady Emma, I’m quite relieved to be back in London at last, after such a prolonged absence.”
Emma nodded politely to Lord Dunn, one half of her attention on his conversation, and the other half on Lord Lymington, whom she was peeking at over Lord Dunn’s shoulder.
“I do prefer the town to the country, don’t you?”
Emma pasted a bright smile on her lips. “Yes, indeed. Do you spend a great deal of time in,ah…in Cumbria?”
“Cornwall,” Lady Crosby hissed in Emma’s ear, under cover of herfluttering fan.
“Er, Cornwall, that is.”
Had he truly said Cornwall? She would have sworn it was Cumbria. It was a place that began with a “C,” at any rate.
In truth, she couldn’t recall more than a half dozen words. She was being driven to distraction trying to keep an eye on Lord Lovell and Lord Lymington at once. They’d been hovering on the other side of the ballroom for the past half hour, looking as thick as two thieves conspiring to commit a crime, with Lord Lovell glaring at Lord Barrett while Lord Lymington muttered earnestly to him.
Lord Dunn smiled down at her. “Cornwall, yes. I returned to London in late March, just before the startof the season.”
There would be another confrontation with Lord Lymington tonight—it was simply a matter of when. He’d been watching her all evening, like a predator circling its prey. Every time she turned around his glittering dark eyeswere upon her.
Emma had been awaiting his approach for hours, practicing her denials and disdainful sniffs, her frowns and haughty head tosses, and cursing Lord Lymington all the while for being the only aristocratic gentleman in London shecouldn’t charm.
But there was a problem, an unforeseen complication.
For all his glowering, Lord Lymington hadn’t approached her all evening.
Emma had danced her two dances with Lord Lovell as she’d promised she would, all the while expecting Lord Lymington to march into the middle of the ballroom and wrench his innocent cousin free of her sinister clutches.
But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d kept his distance.
It was maddening, like a tormenting itch that was just out of reach. He was the most infuriating, vexing man alive—
“My sister, the Countess of Addington, rarely leaves her estate there,” Lord Dunn was saying. “I make the journey every other year and remain forsome months.”
Emma jerked her attention guiltily back to him. “How lovely, my lord. I daresay it’s very pleasant there.”
“Not at all, Lady Emma. It’s as dull as a tomb.”
Lady Crosby laughed. “Somerset is much the same, I’m afraid. Isn’t it, Emma?”
