Page 15 of A Proposition for the Comte
When Violet looked up she could see that the flowery words of Antonia’s brother were just that. The Comte de Beaumont looked as surprised by the sentiment as she had been.
‘I am pleased to meet you both.’
So that is how he wished to play it, the recent history between them discounted. With a small tip of her head she noticed that Antonia was doing her very best to crawl up against the newcomer. ‘I do hope that you are enjoying your sojourn to London, Comte?’
The flirtatiousness in her tone made Violet wince.
Please, God, she thought,let this finish. Let him move away before the dancing begins in earnest. Let him tip his head and leave us behind.
‘It is a city I do not know well any more, I am afraid, Lady Antonia. A city of contrasts.’
Dangerous and bustling. Lies and truth. Gunshots and dancing. Coyness and peril. Life and death. Love and hate. Light and darkness.
He did not now exhibit any semblance of pain or discomfort and the scar across his chin looked almost pale, lost in the dim light of candelabras.
But Antonia had not finished with all her questions. ‘I have heard you have bought a house in Sussex, my lord, and a very fine one by all accounts.’
‘Indeed. I was down south for a few weeks last year and purchased it on a whim.’
A whim?
The Comte de Beaumont did not look like a man who ever acted upon whims. Light and fancy things, whims. When he saw Violet smile at such a musing his eyes darkened.
‘Would you like to dance, Lady Addington? I think I can just about remember the steps of the quadrille.’
She could not refuse under such close perusal, though Antonia did not look pleased at all.
Within a moment he had shepherded her on to the floor, the touch of his good arm burning into her back. When they stood to face each other she was lost for words.
‘Thank you.’ His voice was low and quiet.
For the lie? For the dance? For not calling in at the Home Office and telling them her story in detail? For standing there and pretending she did not know him? For rescuing him from certain death on a frozen night?
‘You are welcome.’
Here was not the place for more with the cream of thetonpresent, as their love of gossip and scandal could ruin him. Violet wondered if de Beaumont held a knife in his pocket even under the lights and among the rustle of silk. She decided that he must.
‘You have made quite an impression in society since arriving in England, Comte de Beaumont. Everyone is talking of you and you have not been here long.’
‘A daunting thing that, Lady Addington, given our circumstances.’
‘I received your note.’ She whispered this, just in case.
‘And I meant every word on it.’
She felt the tightening of his fingers against her hand, a small and hidden communication. Barely there.
‘Why?’
Suddenly she no longer wanted to be so careful. If he had murdered a man the other week he was not someone she should encourage. But then again if he hadn’t...
‘When someone saves your life there is a debt owed.’
‘And when someone takes a life it is just the same.’
‘Touché,’ he whispered as the dance pulled them apart into the arms of others.
When he returned she felt a giddy sense of place, but firmly squashed it down as his arms linked with her own.
