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Harriet lifted an eyebrow and stifled any semblance of a smile as she readied herself for the dance. There was one thing about Lord Granville, he never disappointed in conversation with a blank look.

The orchestra struck up, and they all moved in the required steps. The intricacy and the movement made conversation stilted, but as they came back together and she took his gloved hand to dance around him, he smiled in an equally knowing way down at her. And damn, those eyes made her catch her breath.

‘It rather sounds like your dear aunt has been speaking to you in exactly the same terms as she did with me,’ he murmured.

She could smell the scent of his subtle cologne. Lord Granville never doused himself in the vile smelling stuff that some of the young bucks wore. He always had a faint but elegant smell about him, and it was such that it made her want to stand a little closer.

He pulled away, and they followed the dance, but she could feel him observing her as they moved.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ she repeated back to him and batted her eyelashes at him when they reconnected.

Her reply made his social smile turn into a real smile. It made him far too handsome. It really was too much. She was going to have serious words with her aunt, but it left her trying to decide how to handle the situation. She had no doubt whatsoever that she was the last person who Lord Granville would want to marry. Why on earth would he choose her when he had all of London’s beauties lining up to drag him to the altar? No, she needed to dispense with this nonsense forthwith. Besides, if he thought she was going to drop into his lap like some sort of over large, ripe plum, and that he would be required to let her down ‘gently’, he was sadly mistaken. She had managed rejection all her life. She would not put herself in a position where she could be rejected by him, of all people.

They came together, so she smiled up at him and lowered her lashes in a flirtatious manner. She caught the fleeting look of surprise on his face. ‘I think we may need to talk,’ she whispered as they passed close to each other. Lord Granville looked serious for once, nodding his agreement as slid his arm about her waist, guiding her gently.

For a moment, just a moment, in the glittering splendour of the ballroom, with the warmth of his gloved hand around her, Harriet wished there could be a happy outcome to all this. Wished that he was genuine, that she truly was poised on the brink of passionate romance, that she would, by the end of the evening, be in Granville Leveson-Gower’s arms. They would be strong arms, and his lips… She had forever wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked. Would his kiss be hard and demanding, or soft and gentle? Or perhaps both.

She put the fantasy to one side, but it was harder to do than she imagined.

Chapter 14

HARYO

London

Lord Granville Leveson-Gower looked at the woman he led from the ballroom floor. Lady Harriet Cavendish was a complete enigma, and Granville didn’t like enigmas. He preferred his life simple and ordered.

He remembered his first visit to the Cavendish family home. Recalled seeing Harriet as a child peeping down on the party and blowing a kiss at her. She’d seemed devoted to him from that point on. Somewhere along the way, something had changed, and he wasn’t certain he knew what it was, but he had an uncomfortable suspicion. Over the past few years, their interactions had been decidedly chilly, and it saddened him.

He bowed over her hand. ‘Might I escort you for refreshment, Lady Harriet?’ he murmured.

She inclined her head in a regal gesture. ‘You may.’

They set off walking, her arm on his, her chin in the air as she looked about them as they walked. She was quite tall for a woman, and well proportioned. Not as beautiful as her infamous mother, but there was something about her, something about the whole of her, that was infinitely more attractive. He’d always thought so, but she was incredibly prickly, and because of it, he’d never bothered to fight through the hard exterior to see if there was anything warmer inside.

Consequently, the prospect of making her his bride was… disturbing.

He looked down at her. ‘I trust you are enjoying the ball?’ Christ. Was that all he could come up with? He’d wooed and won women all over the world, and here he was bumbling along like green lad. He’d be asking her about the weather next.

‘I am indeed. I trust you are too?’

Her response was just a touch too sweet. He sighed.

‘Shall we cut to the chase?’ she said, looking up at him.

‘Perhaps we should, although I’m not entirely certain what the chase is. Would you like to do it in private?’ He watched as Haryo’s lips twitched and had to smile. ‘Come, I know where we can go.’

He led her away from the main party. Fortunately, as she wasn’t a blushing debutante, she wasn’t subject to the same strict observation as the pretty young things in their first season. Even so, he made sure no-one saw him leave with her. He opened the door of a small, pleasant parlour which had candles burning and ushered her inside.

In the soft light of the candles, her skin glowed, and her eyes sparkled a luminous grey.

She lifted her chin. ‘So, are you going to get straight to it?’

Shock held Granville for a moment, then his lips twitched. ‘Beg pardon?’ he murmured. ‘Get to… it?’

‘Are you going to get straight to it on the assumption that I will fall in with your plans and instantly declare undying love, or do you intend wooing me first? I’m curious.’

Lord, she had the most wonderful backbone. He shifted his stance, held her gaze, and refused to look away. To her credit, so did she. He knew exactly what she was talking about. Clearly, Bess had given the same instruction to Haryo as she had to him.