Page 4 of The Danger of Desire
He arched one brow. “How clever of you to notice.”
“How clever of you tobeso. And it’s hard not to notice, since I’m left-handed, too. There aren’t that many of us around.”
“Or none that will lay claim to the affliction, anyway.” He’d never before met a lady who would.
“True.” She slipped the bracelet into her reticule with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve always heard it’s gauche to be left-handed.”
Well, well, she was definitely not a twit, if she knew thatgauchewas the French word forleft. “I’ve always heard it’s a sign of subservience to the devil.”
“That, too. Though the last time I paid a visit to Lucifer, he pretended not to know me. What about you?”
“I know him only to speak to at parties. He’s quite busy these days. He has trouble fitting me into his schedule.”
“I can well imagine.” Pointedly ignoring the three men watching them in bewilderment, she added, “He has all those innocents to tempt and gamblers to ruin and drinkers to intoxicate. However would he find time to waste on a fellow like you, who comes to the aid of a lady so readily? You’re clearly not wicked enough to merit his interest.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said dryly. “Besides, Lucifer gains more pleasure from corrupting decent gentlemen than wicked ones.” This had to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a debutante.
“Excellent point. Well, then, next time you see him, give him my regards.” Her voice hardened as she cast a side glance at their companions. “He seems to have been overzealous in his activities of late.”
When the gentlemen looked offended, Clarissa put in hastily, “Don’t be silly. The devil is only as busy as people allow him to be, and we shall not allow him to loiter around here, shall we, Warren?” She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“No, indeed. That would be a sin.”
“And so are my poor manners.” Clarissa smiled at her friend. “I’ve neglected to introduce you. Delia, may I present my cousin, the Marquess of Knightford and rescuer of bracelets. Warren, this is my good friend, Miss Delia Trevor, the cleverest woman I know, despite her gauche left hand.”
Cynically, he waited for Miss Trevor’s smile to brighten as she realized what a prime catch he was. So he was surprised when it faded to politeness instead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Clarissa has told me much about you.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I’m sure she has. My cousin loves gossip.”
“No more than you love to provide fodder for it, from what I’ve heard.”
“I do enjoy giving gossips something to talk about.”
“No doubt they appreciate it. Otherwise, they’d be limited to poking fun at spinsters and then I would never get any rest.”
He snorted. “I’d hardly consider you a spinster, madam. My cousin tells me this is your first Season.”
“And hopefully my last.” As the other fellows protested that, she said, “Now, now, gentlemen. You know I’m not the society sort.” She fixed Warren with a cool look. “I do better with less lofty companions. You, my lord, are far too worldly and sophisticated for me.”
“I somehow doubt that,” he said.
“I hear the dancing starting up,” Clarissa cut in. “Perhaps you two can puzzle it out if you stand up together for this set.”
He had to stifle his laugh. Clarissa wasn’t usually so clumsy in her social machinations. She must really like this chit. He was beginning to understand why. Miss Trevor was rather entertaining. At least when she wasn’t looking down her nose at him for his moral lapses.
Which was odd for a woman sneaking around to meet with an unsuitable suitor, wasn’t it?
“Excellent idea.” He held out his hand to the young lady. “Shall we?”
“Now see here,” Pitford interrupted. “Miss Trevor has already promised the first dance to me.”
“It’s true,” she told Warren, a hint of challenge in her tone. “I’m promised for all the dances this afternoon.”
Hmm. Warren turned to Pitford. “Fulkham was looking for you earlier, old chap. He’s in the card room, I believe. I’ll just head there and tell him he can find you dancing with Miss Trevor.”
Pitford blanched. “I... er... cannot... that is...” He bowed to Miss Trevor. “Forgive me, madam, but I shall have to relinquish this dance to his lordship. I forgot a prior engagement.”
The fellow scurried off for the gates as fast as his tight pantaloons would carry him. Probably because he owed Fulkham a cartload of money.
