He smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth than anything— a wolf on the verge of devouring a sheep. “Of course, Miss Templeton.”
He took a step toward her, and she came up against the draperies behind her, the silk brushing against her back.
“Allow me.” He reached over her, his gloved fingertips a mere breath away from touching her bare shoulder, and tugged the draperies aside.
She didn’t hesitate, but whirled around and darted through them, back into the safety of the ballroom.
ChapterSeven
Kit shoved the silk draperies aside and strode through them, his gaze on Mathilda Templeton, who was flying across the ballroom in a streak of pink silk, her destination unmistakable.
She was scurrying like an outraged squirrel directly toward Lady Fosberry.
Soon enough, her ladyship would have an earful about the Earl of Prestwick’s nefarious designs upon her innocent niece. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the betrothal to Miss Templeton, but it had been worth it to see the meddlesome chit’s eyes go as round as robins’ eggs.
“Good God, Prestwick, what did you say to Mathilda Templeton?” Darby caught up to him halfway across the ballroom, and fell into step beside him. “She’s fleeing as if the devil himself is on her heels.”
Not the devil, no. Just a wicked earl. “Perhaps Miss Templeton should be more careful who she trifles with.”
“Perhaps it’syouwho should be more careful, Prestwick, because whatever you said to her, she’s repeating it to Lady Fosberry right now.”
She was, indeed. Even at this distance, he could see her whispering in Lady Fosberry’s ear. “I merely confided my intentions regarding Lady Harriett to her.”
Darby stopped, his eyebrows shooting up. “Was that wise?”
“Lady Fosberry is well aware of my agreement with Lord Fairmont.” Whether she intended to hold him to it or not…well, that was what he needed to find out. Either Lady Harriett or Mathilda Templeton was destined to become the next Countess of Prestwick. The question was, which of the two of them would satisfy the demands of the curse? “Did you dance with Lady Harriett?”
“Yes, and I’ll tell you, Prestwick, it was the longest bloody quadrille of my life. She’s a frightened little mouse of a thing. I was certain she’d burst into tears at every moment.”
“Meek, is she?”
“As a lamb, yes.”
Damn. No gentleman, not even a wicked one, wanted to court a terrified young lady who was likely to blanch at the very sight of him.
But perhaps he wouldn’t have to.
Fairmont had evidently left the matter of his sister’s engagement to Lady Fosberry, and if she didn’t approve the match…
His gaze wandered back to Mathilda Templeton.
Whatever else one might say of her, she wasn’t terrified of anything, or anyone.
“Now, Miss Mathilda Templeton, on the other hand,” Darby said, as if he’d read Kit’s mind. “There’s not a bit of the lamb in her, is there? That glare she’s sending you right now, Prestwick! It’s a wonder you haven’t disintegrated into a pile of ash.”
Thatwasa glare, by God. “She looks as if she’d like to bury a blade in my chest, doesn’t she?”
Darby didn’t answer. He was glancing about, a puzzled frown on his face. “Er, Prestwick, have you noticed—”
“What reason could Mathilda Templeton possibly have for glaring at me like that?” That is, hehadmistaken her for a doxy, but she’d nearlydrownedhim. Surely, they were even?
“I beg your pardon, Prestwick, but—”
“She’s a menace, Darby.” A menace with exceptionally lovely blue eyes, but a menace nonetheless. “I’ve never encountered a more troublesome—"
“For God’s sake, Prestwick! Look around you, man. Everyone is staring at us!”
“Staring? Don’t be absurd, Darby. Why would they be…” He trailed off, blinking. A crush of bodies surrounded them, but a pathway had cleared before them, and dozens of curious gazes were following their progress across the ballroom. “What the devil?”
