Page 25 of One Dangerous Desire
“You know nothing of parlor games.” She lowered her voice so the guests observing their tug-of-war might not overhear.
“No, but I’m rather enjoying this one.” He tugged the cloth to get her an inch closer. Close enough to see the flecks of violet in her blue eyes and the way her mouth trembled as she glowered at him.
“Shall we move onto the next game?” Lady Stamford strode forward and reached her hand out, palm up, like a chastising nanny seeking to end a childish row.
Rex reluctantly released his end of the blindfold and handed it to the countess. May fixed him with one final scowl before joining Lady Emily on the other side of the room.
Guests stepped out of the circle they’d formed, and footmen began distributing drinks. Rex watched warily for the start of the next game.
“I have French lace on my gown, Mr. Leighton.” Lady Caroline Grisham positioned herself at his elbow. “If we play Blindman’s Bluff again, perhaps my gown will givemeaway.” She spoke to him in a husky timbre.
“Will we play again?” The notion of being trapped in darkness once more set his teeth on edge.
Caroline laughed, her blush deepening, as if he’d meant something else entirely.
“I believe they’re starting now.” She tipped her head toward the center of the carpet where a footman had placed a single straight-backed wooden chair.
Lady Stamford strode around the room, a finger tapping her lower lip as if she was considering a weighty decision.
“Lord Devenham, would you be our Adonis?”
The tall, blond earl offered May an irritatingly knowing grin before striding to the chair and stepping up onto it. Rex thought he looked like a buffoon, but the man preened from his lofty perch, flicking back the edges of his tailcoat, planting a hand on each hip, and tilting his chin at what he seemed to think was a rakish angle.
“It’s Henry! She’s picked my brother.” Caroline bounced on her toes as she announced the blatantly obvious. What she failed to mention was why an aristocrat was standing on a chair in the middle of the drawing room.
“What hellish game is this?”
“It’s called Selling Adonis,” Caroline whispered as Lady Stamford began explaining the rules.
“Lady Emily, you know your cousin well. Will you be our auctioneer?” the countess asked.
Whatever that role entailed, Emily seemed eager for it. She stepped toward the chair where Devenham stood and took a deep breath before beginning a recitation of his talents, most of which involved riding, racing, or buying and selling horses.
“After Em enumerates his charms, one lady must guess one of his secrets as a bid to sit next to him at dinner.” Caroline leaned in, pressing her bare arm to his jacket sleeve as she whispered, “I bet it will be Miss Sedgwick who claims the prize.”
Rex bit back a curse. He tensed and held his body still. It was either that or give in to the urge to bolt from this party as he had from the Bridewells’.
“Perhaps you’ll be our next Adonis, Mr. Leighton.” Caroline gripped his arm boldly, as if the earlier game gave her license to touch him whenever she liked. “Tell me one of your secrets so that I may win if you’re on offer.”
He looked into the lady’s heart-shaped face and studied the clear green of her eyes, the sharp lines of her aristocratic nose. Marriage to such a lady could gain him a great deal. But she asked for his secrets.
Whether it was Lady Caroline or Lady Emily or another, no noble lady would look at him with an admiring glint in her eye if she knew what he was. Knew the things he’d done.
“No.” He stepped away from her, and her brows dipped in a frown. “Excuse me, Lady Caroline.”
Stepping around a cluster of ladies whose gazes were fixed on the Adonis in the center of the room, Rex headed for the front entry hall. He needed a breath of air, though the urge to continue out the front door was strong.
His talent for escape had served him well when ducking out of the orphanage as a child or evading police as a wayward boy, but he’d get no more invitations from countesses if he kept bolting from their soirees.
Rex breathed deep and tasted roses. A heaping bouquet of the damned flowers weighed down a nearby table and scented the air.
He forced himself to start back toward the drawing room. Reminded himself of his goals and why he’d accepted Lady Stamford’s invitation in the first place. He had a good deal yet to achieve, and he was willing to endure far worse than a room full of giggling aristocrats.
Even if worse included watching May Sedgwick flirt with the Earl of Devenham for the remainder of the evening.
Chapter Nine
HE DOESN’T LIKEballs.
