Page 71 of The Hired Hero
Lucien raised an eyebrow but refrained from raking her over the coals concerning her rather odd request. He merely shrugged and announced his intention of using the time to filch a bottle of champagne from the cellars so that he and Lord Knightly might fill their glasses a tad more often—and fuller—than the waiters had been instructed to do.
Caroline looked past the palms. He was still there and still alone, looking as black as a windswept sea. It was the scowl that made her take heart. Before her courage could desert her, she hurried toward him. Seeing as his back was against the wall, he had no chance to escape.
“Good evening, milord.”
Davenport gave a slight start of surprise, then muttered a passably civil greeting in turn.
“I thought, for old time’s sake, I might take up the role of a man again long enough to ask you for the next dance.”
His face betrayed a warring of emotions.
She swallowed hard. Perhaps she had been mistaken after all. “Of course, if you would rather not…”
By way of answer, he took hold of her elbow and ushered her out onto the polished parquet. And then, suddenly, he was ever so close. She could feel the warmth emanating from his broad chest, the pressure of his hand on the small of her back. As the captivating strains of the music filled the room, the earl began to move with the lilting tempo, guiding their steps with lithe grace.
Caroline followed his lead effortlessly. For a moment, she closed her eyes, giving herself over entirely to the pressure of his hands, the measured strength of his muscled legs. Attuned as she was to the nuances of his touch, she felt the stiff tension in his limbs begin to ebb out as they glided across the floor. When at last she ventured to look up at him, she saw the color of his eyes had cleared, though the strange intensity still lingered.
Though loath to lose the harmony between them at that moment, she felt compelled to break the silence. Suddenly unsure of how to begin, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Speaking of gentlemen, I asked Lucien about the song…”
Davenport’s brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“Remember? You wouldn’t tell me what a sodomite is. You told me to ask my cousin. Well, I did.”
The earl nearly tripped over his own feet.
“But he wouldn’t explain either,” she continued, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. “He said he had a good mind to call you out for exposing me to such language. I still don’t…”
The laugh began softly at the back of his throat, then reached such a volume as to draw inquiring glances from the couples around them.
“You are still utterly incorrigible,” he said with a shake of his head.
Caroline drew in her breath. She had approached the earl with the intention of being charming and ladylike, but somehow, things had gone awry—as usual. Her cheeks reddened, but she decided, as she had already made a mull of things, there was no harm in going on.
“I know you find me totally lacking in delicate sensibilities, sir, and that you tolerated our acquaintance because you needed the money, but…”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she continued in a rush.
“But still, I want to thank you for all you have done for me.” She smiled a little crookedly. “And to tell you that I shall greatly miss your company.” Her lips quivered. “Despite everything, we had some fun.”
“You have a rather odd notion of fun,” he murmured, his voice still rich with humor. His hand tightened on hers, and the odd look came back to his eyes. “I…”
Davenport’s voice seemed to suddenly desert him, and in the next moment, the music came to an end.
Caroline let out an unhappy sigh.
There was a milling about as the couples around them began to leave the dance floor. A voice boomed out from the crowd. “Julian! I haven’t seen you in an age. I meant to congratulate you on the title.” A gentleman of imposing girth, sporting a canary-yellow waistcoat that only emphasized the size of his stomach, appeared to give substance to the words. “Though, of course, perhaps ‘congratulate’ isn’t the right word given the circumstances. Still, you’ll be a far better earl than Charles, if I may say so.”
He and his partner fell in step beside Caroline and the earl, oblivious to the spasm of frustration that crossed Davenport’s face.
“Kind of you, Stanfield,” muttered the earl as he sought to steer away from the man and his partner.
“Come, let us have a glass of champagne together after we have delivered these lovely young ladies to the next lucky men in line for their company,” continued the man as he gave a jovial wink at the smiling matron by his side.
The earl appeared unwilling to leave. Turning back to Caroline, he murmured, “As I was saying…”
Stanfield finished making an elaborate bow to his lady. Straightening with some difficulty, he clamped a beefy hand around the earl’s elbow and led him away.
