Page 9 of When He Was Wicked
When he looked back to her, the lady was pushing through the crowded ballroom with deft ease. At the edge of the hall, she paused, turned toward him, and stared at him for several unblinking moments. There was a clear invitation he should follow. James made his way in her direction, leisurely, ensuring no one paid too much attention to him, though it was quite unlikely with the number of people crammed into the ballroom.
James exited in time to see the tail of her gown disappearing around a corner. He made his way down the hallway, passed afew guests, and made a similar left turn. She was not in sight, but then he spied a door which had been left discreetly open. James made his way to it, pushed the door wider and stepped inside.
“Close it,” she commanded huskily.
Something unknown surged through him, and the sensations were so baffling he took a few seconds to comply. She was being impetuous, shortsighted to risk them being alone in such a place. The scandal, if they were seen closeted away, would be horrendous for her. James was used to the endless speculations into his life, and the various sobriquets of wicked and dissolute.
However, he closed the door with a softsnick. A merry light danced from the fireplace, and a lamp was lit in what appeared to be a small parlor. The heavy drapes were also drawn, revealing a garden by the windows.
“Why are you here?”
“I was invited.”
“Balls are not your haunting ground, Lord Maschelly. That is commonly known,” she retorted, clasping her hands before her middle. A nervous and telling gesture.
The lady was charming indeed. She was short, lushly curved and quite petite, and the top of her head would barely reach his shoulder. And it bemused him that he would like to kiss her. She inspired wicked fantasies of tangled limbs atop silken sheets, and he felt like a cad for having the provocative thoughts.
He wanted to move closer but knew he would be like a hulking beast beside her sweet, delicate femininity. With a scowl, he glanced down at his large hands. Possibly even scare her, for now, she looked at him with wary determination. James must never forget she had survived an attack which still haunted her. She had a deceptive air of fragility, but he saw the core strength staring back at him.
“Who are you?”
“Lady Verity Ayles, sister to Lord Sutcliffe,” she said with a lift of her chin. “Though I suspect you are aware of my identity. I ask, my lord, again, why are you here?"
He knew the earl. Sutcliffe visited the club often enough to gamble and tumble with the sought-after Cyprians which visited each night, searching for their next wealthy protector.
He recalled the earl was young, eager to please those more powerful than himself, and ill-equipped to be the head of his family. A few nights ago, he had been at the club with the Marquess of Durham. The earl had laughed loudly at everything the marquess said, and from what James had overheard, the man had little in the way of humorous anecdotes. He bragged of seducing debutantes and married women, hardly something to be proud of.
“I attended the ball to find you, Lady Verity.”
She inhaled sharply and stepped toward him. Her expressive eyes danced over his face, and the light of hope inside them made his throat close for a few seconds.
“Because?”
“I will teach you to fight.”
“You can open your eyes,”the earl said, his voice rich with amusement.
With a gasp, her lids flew open, and a hand fluttered to her chest. Verity hadn’t realized she had closed them in profound relief. “My lord, I—”
“I’ll help you.”
“You are absolutely certain of this?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I…no, please, you do not have to answer that, my lord. At least not now. Please know I am deeply grateful.”
He looked away as if uncomfortable with her gratitude. “I will also accept your guidance in learning to be…more refined. Perhaps you will permit me to ask you for a dance after a few lessons.”
She stared at him, flustered. One of the curious rumors about the earl was that he never danced. There had been much speculation to why, and now he would ask her? “The whispers from such an unprecedented action will be very loud, my lord. Nor do I think Lady Susanna would be too thrilled when you’ve never danced with her before.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I am no longer interested in courting Lady Susanna.”
Verity stared at him in dismay. “But I believed you loved her, my lord!”
He arched a surprised brow. “Loved? Those were not the sentiments which had moved me to make an offer. The lady has made her position known and I have moved on. But I will appreciate your lessons since I still have the desire to marry eventually. And it is clear any lady of quality will appreciate a man more once he has more charming and refined sensibilities.”
Mocking humor danced in his eyes at this. Yet she sensed the rejection had cut deeply. It jolted her that she wanted to know more about him and the life he had experienced which had placed that wicked cut above his brow, and the faint cynicism in his expression.
