Page 3 of The Danger of Desire
“My point is,” she said testily, “everyone knows your preferences. And asking questionsisthe purpose of St. George’s, is it not? To provide a place where gentlemen can determine the character of various suitors?”
“For their female relations,” he said tersely. “Not for thefriendsof their female relations.”
Clarissa stared up at him. “She has no man to protect her. And I very much fear all the signs lead to her having found someone unsuitable, which is why she’s behaving oddly. I don’t want to see her end up trapped in a disastrous marriage. Or worse.”
They both knew what the “worse” was, since Clarissa had gone through it herself. Damn. He might not have been Clarissa’s guardian for some time, but she still knew how to tug at his conscience. And it gnawed at him that he’d been unaware of what had been done to her before he’d become her guardian, that it had taken his best friend’s perception to parse it out.
“It would be a very great favor to me,” Clarissa went on. “I tell you what—she’s here, so let me introduce you. You can spend a few moments talking to her and see if I’m right to be alarmed. If you think I’m overly concerned, you may leave here with my blessing and never bother with it again. But if you think I might be right...”
“Fine. But you owe me for this. And I promise I will call in my debt down the road.” He forced a smile. “At the very least, you must introduce me to some buxom widow with loose morals and an eye for fun.”
“Hmm,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll have to speak to my brother-in-law about that. He has more connections among that sort than I do.”
“No doubt.” Her brother-in-law used to use a number of “that sort” as models in his paintings. “But I can talk to Keane without your help. So I suppose I’ll settle for your promise not to be offended if I refuse your invitation to your house party.”
“There was a possibility of your accepting? Shocking. Still, I did hope—”
“So whereisthis woman you wish me to meet?”
Clarissa sighed. “Last time I saw her she was right over there by the fountain.” As she turned that direction she stiffened. “What on earth are those fellows doing with Delia?”
She stalked across the lawn and he followed, surveying the group she headed for: a woman surrounded by three young gentlemen who appeared to be fishing—fishing?—in the fountain.
He recognized the men. One was a drunk, one a well-known rakehell, and the third a notorious gambler by the name of Pitford. All three were fortune hunters.
No wonder Clarissa was worried about her friend.
He turned his attention to the chit, who had her back to him and was dressed in a blue-and-green plaid gown with a pink-and-yellow striped shawl and a multi-feathered coiffure that added at least a foot to her height.
For the first time, he wished their new kinghadn’trecently lifted the requirement for the populace to wear mourning for the late George IV. Even the dullness of black and gray gowns as far as the eye could see would be preferable to that nightmare of colors.
What’s more, any woman who dressed that way was bound to be a heedless twit. He sighed. She would be a nuisance at best, a dead bore at worst. There was nothing he disliked more than a cork-brained female, unless she was sitting on his lap in a brothel, in which case intelligence hardly mattered.
As they approached, Clarissa asked, “What’s going on here?”
The jovial chap with cheeks already reddened from too much champagne said, “The clasp broke on Miss Trevor’s bracelet and it dropped into the fountain, so we’re trying to get it out to keep her from ruining her sleeves.”
“I’d prefer to ruin my entire gown than see you further damage my bracelet with your poking about,” the chit said, her voice surprisingly low and throaty. “If you gentlemen would just let me pass, I’d fish it out myself.”
“Nonsense, we can do it,” the other two said as they fought over the stick wielded by the drunk. In the process, they managed to jab Miss Trevor in the arm.
“Ow!” She attempted to snatch the stick. “For pity’s sake, gentlemen...”
Warren had seen enough. “Stand aside, lads.” He pushed through the arses. Shoving his coat sleeve up as far as it would go, he thrust his hand into the fountain and grabbed the bracelet. Then he turned to offer it to the young lady. “I assume this is yours, miss.”
When her startled gaze shot to him, he froze. She had the loveliest blue eyes he’d ever seen.
Though her gown was even more outrageous from the front, the rest of her was unremarkable. Tall and slender, with no breasts to speak of, she had decent skin, a sharp nose, and a rather impudent-looking mouth. She was a pretty enough brunette, but by no means a beauty. And not his sort. At all.
Yet those eyes...
Fringed with long black lashes, they glittered like stars against an early-evening sky, making desire tighten low in his belly. Utterly absurd.
Until her lips curved into a sparkling smile that matched the incandescence of her eyes. “Thank you, sir. The bracelet was a gift from my late brother. Though I fear you may have ruined your shirt retrieving it.”
“Nonsense.” He held out the bracelet. “My valet is very good at his job.”
As she took the jewelry from him, an odd expression crossed her face. “You’re left-handed.”
