Page 18 of A Virgin for His Grace
The slight emphasis he placed upon the word 'disturbances' made Arabella's cheeks flush with remembered heat, though she kept her gaze firmly fixed upon her plate of largely untouched breakfast.
"None whatsoever, Your Grace. I found my chambers most conducive to peaceful slumber."
The lie slipped from her lips with surprising ease, though the dark smudges beneath her eyes bore testament to the sleepless hours she had spent reliving every moment of their encounter. Even now, she could feel the phantom touch of his hands upon her skin, the memory of his mouth at her breast making her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
Devon settled into his seat with fluid grace, accepting coffee from the hovering footman whilst maintaining the fiction of polite indifference. Yet Arabella noticed the slight tremor in his hands as he reached for his cup, the tension in his shoulders that spoke to his own discomfiture.
"Excellent," he said smoothly. "I should hate to think that anything might have... unsettled you during your residence under my roof."
Before Arabella could formulate a response to this loaded comment, Livia burst through the breakfast room doors with her usual morning energy, chattering brightly about her plans for the day.
"Oh, how lovely to find you both here! Arabella, I have been thinking about our lessons yesterday, and I wondered if we might perhaps practice some of the more complex dance steps this morning? The quadrille still confounds me terribly, and..." She paused, her animated expression faltering as she took in the charged atmosphere between her brother and her companion. "Have I interrupted something?"
"Not at all, dearest," Devon said with the warm affection he reserved exclusively for his sister. "Miss Greystone and I were merely discussing the day's arrangements."
"Indeed," Arabella agreed quickly, grateful for the distraction from Devon's penetrating stare. "I should be delighted to work on your dancing, Livia. Perhaps we might use the music room again?"
"Wonderful!" Livia settled into her chair with obvious relief, apparently choosing to ignore the undercurrent of tension that continued to flow between the other occupants of the room. "And this afternoon, I thought we might visit the modiste. My wardrobe is sadly lacking in fashionable gowns, and if I am to make my debut this Season..."
"An excellent notion," Devon interjected, his tone becoming more businesslike. "I shall provide Miss Greystone with a letter of credit to ensure that you want for nothing. The finest silks, the most elegant designs and spare no expense."
Arabella felt her spine stiffen at this casual display of his wealth and the reminder of her own dependent status. "That is most generous, Your Grace, though I confess myself uncertain about the propriety of accompanying Lady Livia on such an expedition. Perhaps a more established companion might be better suited to such duties."
Devon's eyes flashed with something that might have been irritation or amusement. "I have complete confidence in your judgment, Miss Greystone. Indeed, I can think of no one better qualified to ensure that my sister presents herself to the ton with appropriate elegance."
The compliment was delivered with such smooth courtesy that it took Arabella a moment to recognize the subtle challenge beneath his words. He was daring her to refuse, to admit thattheir midnight encounter had affected her ability to perform her duties with proper professionalism.
"Very well," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I shall be honoured to assist Lady Livia in her preparations."
"Settled, then," Devon said with satisfaction, rising from his chair with that predatory grace that never failed to affect her. "I fear I must attend to some business matters this morning, but I trust you ladies will find sufficient entertainment in your various pursuits."
As he moved toward the door, he paused beside Arabella's chair, close enough that she could detect the familiar scent of sandalwood and bergamot that seemed to cling to his skin. When he spoke, his voice was pitched for her ears alone.
"Do try not to overtire yourself, Miss Greystone. You appear somewhat... fragile this morning."
The words were delivered with silky concern, but Arabella caught the underlying mockery that made her hands clench into fists beneath the concealing tablecloth. How dare he reference her sleepless night when he was the cause of her distress?
"I am perfectly well, Your Grace," she replied through gritted teeth, not trusting herself to look up and meet his knowing gaze.
"I am pleased to hear it," Devon murmured, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with the lightest possible touch, so brief that it might have been accidental, yet the deliberatenature of the caress sent shivers racing down her spine. "We must ensure that nothing... disrupts your excellent health."
Then he was gone, leaving Arabella to struggle with the complex mixture of anger, humiliation, and unwilling desire that his presence invariably provoked.
"Is everything quite all right?" Livia asked with concern, clearly noting her companion's distress. "You seem rather pale this morning."
"Merely tired," Arabella managed, forcing herself to smile with credible warmth. "Now, shall we discuss these dance lessons you mentioned? I believe mastering the quadrille will prove essential to your social success."
*
The morning passed in a blur of instruction and practice, with Arabella throwing herself into Livia's education with an intensity that bordered on desperation. If she could focus entirely upon her duties, perhaps she could banish the memories that threatened to overwhelm her whenever her guard was lowered.
Livia proved to be an eager pupil, her natural grace needing only minor refinement to achieve true elegance. As they worked through the complex patterns of various country dances, Arabella found herself genuinely enjoying the younger woman's company, her infectious enthusiasm providing a welcome distraction from more troubling thoughts.
"You are a marvel," Livia declared as they pausedfor refreshment, both women slightly breathless from their exertions. "I begin to think I might actually survive my first ball without disgracing myself entirely."
"You will do far more than merely survive," Arabella assured her warmly. "You will be the talk of the Season, remember my words."
"Do you truly think so?" Livia's eyes sparkled with hope and excitement. "I confess the prospect still terrifies me, but with your guidance, I begin to feel that anything might be possible."
