Page 36 of His Wicked Embrace
“Whatever Avery is up to, tell him you’re too busy for all that spy nonsense,” Lucien counseled. “I would like to have at least one of my brothers uninvolved indanger.”
“I’ll try that next time,” Lawrence promised with asigh.
“But that’s not the only reason I’m here. My wife says she’s helping you arrange a dance for a young lady?” Lucien’s eyes slid to Zehra, though not in a sensual manner, merely curious. “Am I to assume you are thatlady?”
Zehra glanced at Lawrence. He’d spoken to Lucien’s wife about a dance? Was it because she’d wished to go to the ball the other night and couldnot?
“Oh, please,” she interjected. “You mustn’t go to any trouble on myaccount.”
Lucien laughed. “Ah, Lawrence hasn’t told you, then? Trouble is ourforte, is it not?” He called this last part over his shoulder at his companions and waved them over. The other men still lingering by the windows joined Lawrence and Zehra, and the ladies rose from their couches to come and meether.
“I suppose I’ll have to make introductions,” Lawrence muttered half to himself. “Everyone, I’d like to present Miss Zehra Darzi. This is clearly my brother, Lucien, the Marquess of Rochester, and his wife, Horatia.” He then gestured to a dark-haired man with green eyes and an auburn-haired woman holding his arm. “This is Godric, the Duke of Essex, and his wife, Emily. Then there is of course Miss Audrey Sheridan.” He waved to a petite brunette with lovely brown eyes. Lawrence seemed to be looking around the room. “I count only five among the men. Where, might I ask, is LordSheridan?”
“Cedric’s in the country with Anne. Ah, to be newly married,” Lucien added with achuckle.
Horatia poked Lucien in the ribs. “Weare newly wedded,” she reminded him. Lucien grinned at her in a manner which made herblush.
“I see,” Lawrence continued. “Well, Horatia and Audrey here are sisters. And then there’s Ashton, Baron Lennox.” Zehra followed Lawrence’s nod to a tall blond-haired man with intense blue eyes who inclined his head. “And this fellow here is Jonathan St. Laurent, Godric’s half-brother.” Zehra saw that the handsome sandy-haired man shared the same green eyes as hisbrother.
“Saving the best for last, I see?” a golden-haired man with silvery-gray eyes said with a roguish wink atZehra.
“Saving the most disreputable, certainly,” Lawrence retorted with a smile. “That is Charles, the Earl ofLonsdale.”
Zehra’s head was spinning from all the introductions. The ladies gently extricated her from Lawrence’s arm and pulled her away from the intimidating group ofmen.
“Come now,” said Emily. “The women would have their time withyou.”
“Zehra, what a lovely name,” Horatia said. Her brown eyes were warm andsoft.
“Thank you,” Zehrastammered.
“Is it Persian?” Emilyasked.
“Yes, how did you know?” Zehra was stunned to find someone here who recognized the origins of hername.
Emily giggled. “We are all voracious readers. I was quite intrigued by the history of Persia a few months ago. Where are you from, exactly, if you don’t mind myasking?”
“Just south ofShiraz.”
“Ah, of course.” Emily nodded. “Lovely gardens, Iunderstand.”
“Yes, I was telling Lawrence only yesterday about the gardens and how we makerosewater.”
“You make absolutely thefinestrosewater perfume,” Audrey added. Her cherubic face seemed full of innocence, but Zehra didn’t miss the intelligence that flashed behind hereyes.
“We do,” she agreed. She looked over her shoulder at the men, who were now talking amongst themselves and no longer paying attention to theladies.
“Zehra… Do you mind if I call you Zehra?” Emilyasked.
“Not at all, Your Grace. Is that the correct way to addressyou?”
“It is, but please, it’s Emily among friends,” she insisted. “We ladies are quite good at discovering things, and it came to Horatia’s attention that there must be something important about you, considering Lawrence made his request to host a private dance for yourbenefit.”
Zehra didn’t speak. She wasn’t quite sure what Emily was hoping she wouldsay.
“What she means,” Horatia cut in, “is that you clearly are not some…mistressof Lawrence’s. He would never ask that of me unless…unless there was somethingspecialaboutyou.”
“Special?” Zehra shook her head. “I’m afraid I am not special. Far from it. I…” She wasn’t quite sure what brought on the flood of tears, but she was now frantically wiping her eyes. Perhaps it had been too long since she’d been around women her age in a casual and free setting and not on a slaveship.
