“Assumptions were made?”
“I believe so. Word had spread that I was an independent, forward-thinking, intelligent woman, not interested in marriage.” She glanced up at him over the rim of her glass. “What would your assumption be?”
“I see your point.”
Just then the orchestra started up, a lively country dance. Mr. Berger, the man who requested the dance strolled up to her. He put his hand out. “My dance, I believe, Miss Sanford?”
As she strolled away, she saw Dante moving through the crowd. She didn’t know if he was headed to a partner for a promised dance, or still keeping his eyes on the Ambassador. It didn’t matter since once the dance began, she was taken up with Mr. Berger attempting to converse while switching partners.
Her partner’s face grew flushed with the effort of the lively dance and trying to ask her questions about her upcoming week. She dodged as many as she could since she did not wish to spend time riding through the park or strolling on his arm. She smiled a great deal and made motions of not being able to understand him.
Hopefully, once the dance had ended he would be much too out of breath to continue to ask.
Lydia, on the other hand was having a grand time. She’d always enjoyed dancing and her feet moving in time to the music always brought her joy. Dante apparently did have a dance partner since he was only four couples down from her and Mr. Berger.
Dante looked at her. Their eyes met and she stumbled. Mr. Berger reached out and took her arm to steady her. She felt like a fool. She would never fall under that devil’s spell. She would never become one of the ladies who practically swooned when he spoke to them.
She would not.
She glanced back again, and he was staring at her, his lips in a slight smile. Stumbling wasn’t bad enough, now she felt a blush rise to her face. If she had to follow the Ambassador around twenty-four hours a day, she would do it to end this assignment.
She sniffed. Miss Lydia Sanford did not make a fool of herself over a libertine.
Dante tried his best to ignore Lydia and keep his eyes on his partner. Earlier, he’d followed the Ambassador around the room until the man claimed his own partner for the dance. Expecting to lounge against the wall until Lydia returned, he was nevertheless coerced into dancing with Lady Wilson’s youngest daughter, Miss Kathleen.
The chit was barely out of the schoolroom, and he
was amazed that the woman had pushed them together. He would never let a daughter of his anywhere near a man with his reputation.
His current problem was keeping his eyes off Lydia. He’d lost his breath when she’d entered the drawing room when he’d arrived to escort her to the ball. Luckily he was not in the middle of taking a sip of his brandy, or it would have spewed all over him.
If he had to work with a woman, why did she have to look like Lydia? In fact, no woman who could read, write, and speak seven languages should look like Lydia. She should be pale and scrawny from spending all her time indoors translating documents. She should have thick spectacles perched on her nose and look old and wrinkled from bending over books, memorizing sentence structures, conjugating verbs.
The dress his Home Office partner had worn to the garden party had been perfect for the setting and she’d looked wonderful. But this gown, this evening gown, had him ready to drag her back up to her bedchamber and spend the rest of the night in much more pleasurable pursuits.
His mind wandered back to their conversation about the requests she’d received for a dalliance once it had become known she was not interested in marriage. Had she accepted any of the offers? Did he care?
Yes, he cared. If she were open to a liaison, he would be more than happy to accommodate her.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Rose?” Miss Kathleen looked at him with worshipful eyes. Damn. Just what he needed, a girl barely out of nappies developing a tendre for him. Another reason he avoided these events.
Too many times in his life he’d agreed to something, not really sure what it was since his mind had been wandering when the question arose. He would not fall into that trap again. “I apologize, Miss Kathleen, but with the music I don’t believe I heard you.”
“I said riding in Hyde Park in the afternoon is such a lovely way to enjoy the newly arrived summer, is it not?”
Thank the heavens he asked her to repeat her question. Images of him driving the young girl in the park while the entire ton looked on was enough to cause him to break out into hives.
“I’m afraid with my commitments, I never have time for rides in the park.” He tried to look sorry, but all he felt was relief. The look of annoyance on her face doubled his relief. When the bloody hell would this dance be over?
He glanced down the line again where Lydia danced with Mr. Berger. She looked over at him and when their eyes met he nearly lost his footing. He frowned, causing her to raise her eyebrows. The neckline on that gown was entirely too low, and he might have to remind Mr. Berger where Lydia’s face was because his eyes kept wandering below her chin.
Miss Kathleen was asking him another question and he was ready to walk off the floor. He shrugged and smiled, tapping his ear, hoping that would dissuade her from asking anything else. Mercifully, within minutes the musical piece ended, and he escorted the young girl back to her mother. Mumbling something about needing to see a friend across the room, he bowed and took his leave.
He approached Lydia who stood with two other women, fanning herself. After being introduced to Lady Marion and Miss Parker, he said, “I am up for a drink, what say you?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.” Lydia turned to her two companions. “Would you care to walk with us to the refreshment table?”
They both declined, and he took Lydia’s arm. “I think we should have a discussion about your evening gown.”