“Surely not.” She looked puzzled. “Few people know me here in town.”
“Some men do not care for introductions.”
Perhaps Miss Kendall was unaware of the threat.
Perhaps she thought herself capable of dealing with devils.
The lady cast him a reassuring smile. “Once I have attended to a personal matter, I have no intention of staying, no intention of ever setting foot in a ballroom again.” She placed a gloved hand on his arm. “Thank you. You really are a remarkable dancer. It brings to mind my favourite Epictetus quote.”
Hungry to hear anything that fell from her mouth, Valentine said, “Oh, and which one is that?”
Her eyes were still alight with excitement from their dance. “The key is to keep company only with people who uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best.”
“And do I call forth your best, Miss Kendall?”
“Certainly, when it comes to duelling and dancing.”
The compliment touched him.
Valentine lowered his voice to a more intimate level. “Perhaps the same might be said for other vigorous activities.” His gaze dipped to the impressive swell of her breasts. Good God! With Aveline Kendall, he wanted to be the worst kind of scoundrel.
She raised a mocking brow. “If you’re referring to your vice for amorous activities, I shall have to trust your word. Alas, your bedchamber is one place I shall never venture.”
Had she thrown down the gauntlet?
Never had the prospect of seducing a woman into bed seemed so appealing.
“I imagine you never thought to duel or dance with me, either.”
A rosy glow touched her cheeks. The lady confounded him on every level. On the one hand, she appeared confident, in command of her mind and emotions. On the other, she looked as vulnerable and naive as a debutante making her first appearance. She danced like a courtesan—with a sensual sway that promised skill in other areas, too. She blushed like a virgin—embarrassed at the mere prospect of his lewd suggestions.
“While I find your playful banter somewhat amusing,” she said, focusing on a point beyond his shoulder, “my quarry is on the move.”
Valentine glanced behind to see Jonathan Kendall and Portia Durrant slip out through the terrace doors. The sudden pang in his chest had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with the fact Miss Kendall was about to follow them out into the garden.
He should offer to accompany her.
What? And have every person in the room believe she’s his mistress?
“If you have come to berate your brother, I assure you, the matter is best dealt with away from here, away from prying eyes.” Devil take it. He could not even offer her a safe escort home in his carriage. Valentine scanned the room, caught sight of Lady Cartwright’s garish orange turban. “Allow me to arrange for your friend Lady Cartwright to see you home.”
A smile formed on Miss Kendall’s luscious lips and she looked at him as if he were a puppy—adorable and laughably inexperienced. “As a spinster, I am afforded a certain degree of recklessness, my lord.”
“As a young, desirable woman, you are mistaken.” The words left his lips without thought.
The lady sucked in a breath. “As always your chivalrous nature informs your judgement.”
Anger flared at the remark. His overzealous need for gallantry was not the problem here.
Valentine gripped her elbow. “Don’t be a fool. One day you may wish to marry. If there is one thing I know about those in Society, it’s that they never forget.” It was why his mother had fought so hard to hide the family secret.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered through gritted teeth. She tugged her arm free from his grasp. “My brother took something from me, something that matters more than reputation, something I would risk my life to see returned.”
The intensity in her
voice shocked him. “Then, as a woman with an abundance of intelligence, I strongly advise you apply a degree of logic.”
She jerked her head back and blinked rapidly. Heat swam in her eyes, but it was not anger he saw there. “So you think me desirable and intelligent. Are you trying to seduce me, Lord Valentine?”