Page 5 of The Danger of Desire
And Pitford’s withdrawal was all it took for the other two gentlemen to excuse themselves, leaving Warren alone with his cousin and Miss Trevor.
Smiling, he offered his arm again to Clarissa’s friend. “It appears that you are now free to dance. Shall we?”
To his shock, the impudent female hesitated. But she obviously knew better than to refuse a marquess and took the arm he offered, though she wouldn’t look at him, staring grimly ahead.
As they headed toward the lawn where the dancing was taking place, she said in clipped tones, “Do you always get your way in everything, Lord Knightford?”
“I certainly try. What good is being a marquess if I can’t make use of the privilege from time to time?”
“Even if it means bullying some poor fellow into fleeing a perfectly good party?”
He shot her a long glance. “Pitford is deeply in debt and looking for a rich wife. You ought to thank me.”
“I know what Pitford is. I know what they all are. It matters naught to me. I have no romantic interest in any of them.”
Pulling her into the swirl of dancers, he said, “Because you prefer a fellow you left behind at home? Or because you’ve set your sights elsewhere in town?”
Her expression grew guarded. “For a man of such lofty consequence, you are surprisingly interested in my affairs. Why is that?”
“I’m merely dancing with the friend of my cousin,” he said smoothly. “And for a woman who has ‘no interest’ in the three fortune hunters you were just with, you certainly found a good way to get them vying for your attention.”
She stared at him. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“The clasp on that bracelet wasn’t broken, Miss Trevor.” When she blinked, he knew he’d hit his mark. “So I can only think that you had some other purpose for dropping it into the fountain.”
As they came together in the dance, he lowered his voice. “And if it wasn’t to engage those men’s interest in you personally, I have to wonder what other reason you might have to risk such a sentimental heirloom. Care to enlighten me?”
Two
Thank heaven the dance parted them just then, giving Delia a chance to debate her answer as she went through the moves. Bad enough that his lordship had run Lord Pitford off; must he also insist upon sticking his nose in her business?
Men like him did nothing without reason. They simply didn’t let anyone else know what it was.
Like her brother, Reynold.
Grief knotted in her belly, and she gritted her teeth. She refused to think of that just now—how he’d selfishly abandoned them. How dared he leave her to clean up his mess, to make sure that Brilliana and little Silas were secure?
He’d probably assumed she would simply marry some fellow who’d take care of them. But aside from the practical difficulties of that, after Papa and Reynold, the last thing she needed was another selfish man in her life.
So, although she wanted to enjoy this glittering world of dances and music and witty lords, to be young and carefree, she could not. She had a family to care for.
And now she had Lord Knightford, a well-known rakehell, suspiciously asking her to dance. Surely he could tell when his cousin was up to her usual matchmaking, so why would he put up with that? Unless he had some other reason for going along.
Could he truly be interested in her? Delia glanced across the circle that she and Lord Knightford formed with another couple. Highly unlikely. A wealthy marquess like him could have any woman he wanted. Especially when he was possessed of fathomless dark eyes, a jaw chiseled enough to cut glass, and perfectly combed raven hair that made a woman want to reach up and tousle it.
What would he do if she did?
Lord, she must be daft. He could very well be the enemy. Never mind that he was supposed to be one of those St. George’s fellows, a self-proclaimed protector of women’s virtue, who shared information about fortune hunters to determine who was dangerous and warn their female relations. His rakish smile proved he was anything but a protector.
Unless...
Oh, fudge. Clarissa must have bullied Lord Knightford into cautioning Delia about those three fortune hunters. Bother it all. Clarissa was a lovely friend, one of the few in thetonthat Delia trusted, but she couldn’t afford the countess’s interference. Not in this.
Delia and Lord Knightford came together in the dance again.
“Well?” he prodded. “Why did you drop your bracelet?”
“The truth, sir?” she said, stalling.
