If Lord Prestwick was here, she’d find him.
Except she’d rather not. She’d really quite prefer it if he wasn’t here at all, but was off doing whatever it was rakes did. Wagering away his fortune at the gaming hells in Covent Garden, or dallying with his mistress.
Fanny. That had been her name, hadn’t it?
Anywhere, but here in this ballroom.
Please, please don’t let him be in this ballroom.
The plea echoed over and over in her head as she made her way from one end of the enormous room to the other, peeking around corners and into darkened recesses, as they seemed the sort of place a rake might hide.
There was no sign of him in her first sweep, and by the time she’d finished a second trip around the ballroom without seeing him, the tightness in her chest began to ease.
For once, scandal seemed to have made up its mind to leave her be, and thank goodness for it, because there was no telling the havoc a lady who’d managed to create a scandal in tiny Hambleden could do in a city like London.
One shuddered to think of it.
She caught her skirts in her hands and began to make her way back to Phee, who she’d abandoned in quite the rudest manner imaginable. But all would be well, now. If Lord Prestwick hadn’t attended the first ball of the season, he wasn’t likely to attend any others.
As for Phee, she’d make it up to her by being on her best behavior from this point forward, and—
“Good heavens!”
A large, gloved hand landed on her wrist, and with one quick jerk, tugged her into one of the alcoves that led onto a balcony. Cold air rushed through the thin silk of her gown, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver.
It was the pair of dark eyes staring down at her. So dark, as dark as midnight, a thick lock of lustrous russet hair partially obscuring the left one.
“Miss Mathilda Templeton.” He bent over her hand, his handsome lips curving in a wicked half-smile. “We meet again.”
Oh, no. Hewasn’ta figment of her guilty imagination. No, he washere, and he’d taken the time to find out her name.
He stood before her in his elegant evening dress, his cravat such a blinding white its brilliance threatened to sear her retinas. A tiny sapphire stick pin sparkled among the folds, and his auburn hair was brushed into a gallant, if somewhat unruly Coup au Vent.
Had he always been so large? Goodness, he was so tall she had to take a step backward and tilt her head to get a proper look at him, but there they were, the dark eyes she remembered, gleaming down at her as if they could set her alight with a single glance.
She’d been alone in his cottage with him!She, alone with London’s most notorious rake. Scandal had found her this time, hadn’t it? It was bearing down on her, right on her heels, its fetid breath hot on her neck.
“Lord Prestwick. I didn’t expect to see you this evening.” But of course, she had expected it. Deep down, underneath all her denials, she’d known he’d find her again, but she hadn’t expected he’d yank her out onto a secluded balcony. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“I do, yes. It’s rather a nice change from our first introduction. Unless, of course, you’re hiding a bottle of absinthe behind your back.”
The absinthe, again? “My, you do hold a grudge, don’t you? If you recall, I was trying to help you.”Hadhelped him, in fact, and now she heartily regretted it. “May I remind you, my lord, that I could have left you as you were?”
“It may have been better if you had.” He gazed down at her, a grin twitching at the corners of his lips. “Why is it, Miss Templeton, that I suspect you make a habit of meddling in affairs that don’t concern you?”
Ah, now there was a thorny question. The truth was, shedidmake rather a habit of meddling, often with disastrous consequences, but she wasn’t going to say so tohim. “An unconscious gentleman lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of a flight of stepsdoesconcern me, my lord. Fortunately for you, as it turns out.”
“I don’t deny you did me a good turn. I’m grateful to you for it, but we both may yet come to regret it. We now share a secret between us, one that could prove damaging if the gossips get hold of it.”
“Indeed. You did the right thing, coming here, my lord. Everyone knows the best way to keep a secret from thetonis to retire to a private balcony alone together in the midst of a ball, while three hundred people wander about on the other side of a flimsy silk curtain, hoping for a scandal.”
He stared at her for a moment, eyebrows raised, then to her shock, he threw his head back in a laugh. “Perhaps I should have sneaked about your house while you were asleep, as you did to me. Would that have been less scandalous, do you suppose?”
Was he flirting with her? The Earl of Prestwick, flirting withher? “I didn’t sneak, and you weren’t asleep. You wereunconsciousfrom drinking an entire bottle of port.”
“A bottle of port, and a decanter’s worth of absinthe, yes. My valet was in fits over those green streaks. I’m afraid my shirt is quite ruined.”
Were his lips twitching? Why, how dare he twitch at her? It was most inconvenient, that twitch, as it transformed his face, and now she was staring at his lips, imagining what a smile might do for him, and thinking about that kiss, the firm warmth of his lips moving over hers, and—
