Page 10 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

Except if he left the ball that meant leaving Beatrice, and as much as he hated watching her dance with other men, he wasn’t quite ready to distance himself from her. He’d been away from her for long enough. Munro started across the ballroom. People still stared at his groin, but not quite as openly as before. When he reached Lavinia, the girls around her giggled and parted.

“Uncle Munro!”

He held out a hand. “May I have the next dance, Miss Notley?”

“Of course,” she said. “Are you certain you want to dance with me? There are so many beautiful ladies here tonight.”

“None as beautiful as you.”

His niece colored and put her gloved hand in his. He led her to the center of the ballroom and spent the next twenty minutes dancing and laughing and stealing glances at Beatrice. He quite forgot about Mrs. de Vries. Lavinia asked if he would dance with one of her friends, a wallflower who was shy. Men rarely asked her to dance. Munro had never possessed the sort of gallantry that compelled him to dance with wallflowers, but now he readily agreed. He’d do anything to avoid talk of footstools, and if he was dancing, he was closer to Beatrice. Bloody hell, but the woman was turning him into a saphead.

He partnered Lavinia’s friend, who was shy, but whom he managed to coax out of her shell until she exchanged a few sentences with him. Then he danced with Judith, who uttered not a word to him and was more than happy to pass him to Susan’s eldest daughter, Sabrina. He danced with his niece, who was only just out and had never been to a ball in London before. Her first Season would come in the spring, and she couldn’t stop talking about it. Munro found the conversation painful but preferable to footstools, and when he returned Sabrina to her father, he was rewarded by the appearance of Beatrice with two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Sabrina and one to Munro.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she said. “You’ve been dancing the entire night.”

Munro might have said the same for her. Indeed, she looked beautifully disheveled, her dark hair coming loose from its pins and her cheeks pink from exertion.

Munro took the glass. “Have I?” He pulled out his pocket watch, which read a quarter to two. Hannah was surely not waiting for him in the music room any longer. Now that Beatrice was standing before him, he didn’t really care that he’d ignored Hannah’s invitation.

“Will you not ask me to dance, sir?”

Munro was weary and would have rather taken a seat on one of Dudley’s proverbial footstools than dance one more step, but he set the glass down, bowed, and said, “Would you do me the honor of the next dance, madam?”

Sabrina giggled at his formality, and Beatrice smiled. But she put her gloved hand in his, and he escorted her to the dance floor. A waltz had just begun, and he was thankful he wouldn’t have to make conversation with other partners as he would have been obligated to do in a quadrille or reel. He took Beatrice in his arms, keeping a respectable distance between them, because he was still Mr. Notorious and people were hoping he’d do something disreputable. He twirled Beatrice then swept her up again, moving around the floor with confidence.

“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she said.

“It’s a pleasure to dance with someone who’s partnered more than her dancing master.”

“It was kind of you to dance with your nieces, and I daresay Lavinia’s friend Lady Eloise will not lack for partners now that Mr. Notorious has given her attention.”

He gave a mock sigh. “How the mighty have fallen. At one point I would have ruined her reputation. Now all I do is generate interest.”

“The night is still young.”

He twirled her again, admiring the way her hair shone under the candlelight. He would have liked to think more about the feel of her soft curves in his arms or the scent of apples and vanilla when he leaned close. He exerted slight pressure on her waist and pulled her closer, the space between them a little too slim to be considered proper.

She looked up at him, those green eyes so lovely and changeable, he could have stared at them all night. She opened her mouth, and Munro thought she might whisper something erotic and wicked.

“You win,” she said.

Beatrice didn’t know how Munro Notley had known of her plan. She’d orchestrated it so well and with no small effort.

Step One had been to obtain the guest list for the ball and to choose a woman whom Notley would want and who might proposition him. Hannah de Vries was perfect. Notley, having just arrived in Town, wouldn’t know that Mrs. de Vries had begun a flirtation with a baron and was quite smitten by him. The baron was not in London this week, which meant he wouldn’t be at Mrs. de Vries’s side.

Step Two had been to write a note with her left hand so Notley wouldn’t recognize the script. She’d pretend to be Mrs. de Vries and invite Mr. Notorious to a rendezvous in the music room. She’d paid a footman to deliver the note to Notley at precisely eleven-thirty.

Step Three was to pay one of Ramsbury’s maids to watch the music room and report to Beatrice as soon as Munro Notley went inside. He’d find it empty, but he would almost certainly wait for a few minutes. That was when Beatrice planned to make an appearance.

Step Four was to throw open the doors to the music room and say, “A-ha! You’ve failed the first test and succumbed to the temptation!”

Then she’d never have to think about Munro again or imagine what he could do to her with those long fingers and that soft mouth.

Steps one and two had been perfectly executed. She’d even seen the moment when the footman had delivered the note to Notley, and Mr. Notorious had rid himself of his brotherand sauntered across the ballroom. She’d watched him, fully expecting him to slip out and make his way to the music room. But the blasted man hadn’t left the ballroom. He’d joined Lavinia’s circle of friends, and the next thing Beatrice knew, Munro was dancing with Lavinia.

Surely, he would leave after that one dance, but hours later, he was still dancing away. She’d finally had to admit two things. One, she could not bear to dance with another man who forgot the steps and stomped on her toes. Two, she had lost this round. Somehow Munro had known the invitation from Hannah de Vries was a test. Beatrice would have to double her efforts next time.

Now she watched as Munro’s golden-brown eyes went dark. “What have I won?” he asked. “And what game were we playing?”

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