He did dance exquisitely, Alix thought as Cole led her through the steps of a country dance. He kept up a patter of light conversation, nearly putting her at ease, but she couldn’t help being aware of his dark eyes assessing her every time they drew close.
“So tell me, my lord,” she said as she circled under his arm, “what is it you are dying to know?”
“Many things, mademoiselle, most too impertinent to ask.”
“Why do I have the feeling that’s never stopped you before?”
Cole drew his brows together in as if considering her words carefully, then said with a flash of his white teeth, “You’re quite right, it hasn’t.” They turned and circled. “I’m wondering,” he said, “whether you will leave him again.”
Alix nearly missed a step. “You know about us then?” she asked when they drew up.
“Ah, yes, Lady Moreham. Rafe was quite done in when you left him. Cut a vicious swath through White’s. Haven’t seen him that hurt and angry since his brother died and left him the title and a mountain of debts. He was impossible to live with until Jervis started reporting in on your whereabouts.”
Alix glanced up at him. “And which part of him was suffering most, my lord, his pride or his heart?”
Cole laughed. “A bit of both I believe, but mostly his heart.”
“Indeed,” she said as the dance ended.
Cole took her arm as they finished with a promenade around the room. “So that’s how things stand,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Rafe’s never been much of a talker, more of a planner, a doer. Even as a child, if he saw something that needed to be fixed, he fixed it. If he saw something he wanted, he went out and got it. Rather a contrast with the rest of his family. A terribly scatterbrained bunch if you ask me. Got so everyone looked to Rafe to be the responsible one.” Cole smiled ruefully. “Even me. It makes him seem...” He struggled for the words.
“Highhanded?” Alix suggested.
“Perhaps a bit stiff-necked.”
“Arrogant.”
“I think you take my point. He’s a bit more accustomed to listening to his head, rather than his heart. You have him quite confused.” Cole stopped just before they reached Rafe and Phoebe. “He’s never been in love before, but give him time, he’ll figure it out.” He eyed her appreciatively. “He’s a smart man, Rafe Harcrest.”
“I return your lady to you, Moreham.” Cole said, returning Alix to Rafe. He tipped his head. “I trust you will hold on toher this time?”
“To make certain, Alix and I shall take part in the next quadrille. That way she will be safe from the distractions of your sort.”
“Distractions,” Cole tutted, “how unjust, particularly when I have been extolling your virtues to the lady.”
Alix glanced up at Rafe. “Aren’t you supposed to request a dance before leading a lady out?”
Rafe smiled. “I thought one of the conveniences of marriage was that one no longer had to ask.” He leaned close to her ear. “So what nonsense was Davenport spreading?”
Alix inclined her head towards the dance floor. “Well, for one thing, he said you were accustomed to having things your own way.”
Rafe grinned. “Only when I know best.”
“And you think you know what’s best for me?”
His hazel eyes gleamed. “Believe me, my dear, I’ve some very good ideas.”
Twenty-Two
Lamartine lay in bed, his body stiff from the strain of keeping as far as possible from the snoring lace merchant next to him. An arm’s length away, a lawyer and his clerk shared the next bed, grunting and swallowing in their sleep. He’d been stranded at this inn for nearly two weeks, sharing a bed with passing strangers, inhaling their odors, listening to their bodily functions, and inane chatter. Two more days, he reminded himself, two more days until the postal carriage arrived and he could make his way to London.
He’d stumbled into the inn, his head pounding and his stomach rejecting whatever boiled slop the English passed off as food. The widowed innkeeper had allowed him to remain and recuperate, accepting as payment his assistance with her bookkeeping and correspondence. Women were such fools. Under her trusting gaze, he’d gradually regained his health and his fortune. He patted a corner of the mattress. People in public inns should learn to keep a better eye ontheir belongings. He was sleeping on a growing cache of coins, snuff boxes, and watches. And a lovely sharp knife he’d taken off a sleeping sailor.
Traveling in a strange country, one couldn’t be too careful.
Several daysafter the Beaumont’s assembly, Madeleine de La Brou and Phoebe Davenport stood watching Rafe, Alix, and Cole playing cards at a quiet party hosted by the Percys. Madeleine was standing very still, her dark eyes distant, and her fan moving in a slow methodical wave. Phoebe studied the elegant French woman wondering idly how she made mourning look so dashing.
“So Madame de La Brou,” she asked, “you do not join the games?”
