Knowing Lydia had been an eye-opener for him. He’d always avoided Polite Society since he hated the restrictions himself. He never imagined how much more difficult it was for a woman. The ones he’d bedded from the Upper Crust had been widows with no concerns about their reputations as long as they were discreet.
He was fully aware of what Lydia had meant when she said that perhaps the life she wanted was not available to her. At one time he would have found it quite easy to dismiss her comment, since he was not available.
Was that still true? If the allure between them was the cause of how much he enjoyed Lydia and sought out her company even when it wasn’t part of the investigation, then perhaps his adamant insistence on never attaching himself to one woman was in danger.
Pushing the disturbing thought to the back of his mind, he purchased two large cold mugs of ale and handed one to her, the foam dripping over the side. She looked up at him while she licked the drippings and all his blood traveled south. He shook his head and grasping her hand, continued their stroll.
By the time they finished their drinks and returned the mugs to the vendor, the house party guests were beginning to leave the inn and assemble in the village square. He noticed that the carriages had re-appeared and the men began the trek to the stables to retrieve their horses.
The Ambassador was with the group, but it was obvious he was having trouble walking since he was flanked by Mr. Williams and Lord Monroe. They brought him to one of the carriages, and Dante steered Lydia to another one. “I don’t want you near him. And you are not to follow him around anymore. We will find another way to bring this cursed assignment to an end.”
Lydia reared back. “I don’t believe I need you to tell me what to do and what not to do. I can certainly take care of myself.”
His raised brows belied her statement. When she’d been in the company of the others she’d been annoyed at the Ambassador’s behavior, but certainly not in true danger. However, with her following the man about, trying to hear his conversations, she had put ideas into the Ambassador’s head. Ideas that Dante was not at all pleased about.
“I apologize. I don’t wish to tell you what to do, but I’m insisting that you should discontinue following the Ambassador trying to hear his conversations. I’m thinking this party is not the best place to watch him. Firstly, if he were going to make contact with one of the guests—”
“—or staff.”
He nodded. “We would have seen it by now. No one new is expected, so I doubt the next couple of days will garner any worthwhile information.”
“Are you coming, Miss Sanford?” Mrs. Martin leaned out of the carriage door. “We are about to leave.”
“Yes.” Lydia turned to Dante. “We can continue this later.” She climbed into the carriage and closed the door.
Dante made his way to the stable to retrieve the horse he’d ridden to the village.
“That was some wallop you gave the Ambassador back there.” Mr. Williams nodded at the departing carriages. “I had to agree with you, though. If he tried that with Miss Evermore I am certain I would have done the same.”
“Me as well,” Lord Monroe said. “He had definitely been behaving in a most ungentlemanly manner and quite an insult to Miss Sanford.”
Dante shook his head and swung his leg over the horse. “The man’s a bloody ass.” He was unable to share with the others just how much of an ass the man was, but through his actions, the Ambassador apparently had not made a good impression on the men.
* * *
The end of the house party had arrived. Dante had managed to avoid tapping on Lydia’s bedchamber door the entire time, of which he was both proud and annoyed. His desire for her, if anything, had increased. Which, in turn, had made it quite easy to continue turning down the insinuations and blatant offers from other women to join him in his bedchamber.
The Ambassador had departed the party the night of the inn fiasco. Dante had been in favor of him and Lydia leaving as well, but it would raise questions they didn’t wish to encourage. Much to his annoyance they were trapped. Damn if he could figure out why these ton house parties were so popular.
This evening would be the ball that traditionally ended all house parties. Gentry from the surrounding area would join the house guests. He was more than ready to depart and get back to London. As much as he’d enjoyed the rides in the morning with Lydia, the rest of the time, especially with the Ambassador gone, had truly been a waste of time.
His opinion of the frivolous life of the ton had been reinforced by this foray into Polite Society. Since he’d always worked for his living—once he’d given up the allowance Hunt had set up for him and Driscoll—he found nothing but contempt for those who depended on inheritances, or worse yet, marrying rich American heiresses to keep their pockets full.
“You look absolutely stunning,” Dante said as he took Lydia’s hand and kissed it before linking her arm with his and steering them toward the ballroom.
Stunning hadn’t even covered it sufficiently. Her peach satin gown with black embroidery on the hem and edge of the sleeves fit her to perfection. The neckline was so enticing, showcasing her beautiful breasts, that he reluctantly quelled the desire to hustle her back up the stairs to his bedchamber and forget all the congratulations he’d been giving himself for not having dragged her to his bed before now.
Since he and Lydia had arrived in separate vehicles, early the next morning they would return that way, which given his state of mind just being near her, was the best idea he’d ever had. All he had to do was get through this blasted ball and then he could return to his normal life and stop being so tempted by his partner.
All the men of the party, and even a few of the gentry made their way to Lydia to request dances. Luckily Dante had anticipated that and had already filled in a quadrille and a waltz just as they’d entered the ballroom. It would not sit well with him to watch her dance with other men, but since he had no claim on her, he said nothing.
In order to keep his mind from thinking about that, he’d signed the dance cards of other ladies. Everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood except him. He glanced at Lydia, speaking with Lord and Lady Battenberg. His partner had shown more enthusiasm at eating a meat pasty and drinking ale in public than she did at this ball.
Upon returning from the trek to the village, Lord Battenberg had taken him aside and while he’d not actually congratulated Dante for planting a facer on the Ambassador, he did remark that the man had it coming to him. Dante got the impression that Lord Battenberg was not overly fond of the Ambassador.
The musicians had been testing their instruments, and then it all came together, and they began the first dance of the evening. The waltz he and Lydia were to share.
As was the usual procedure, Lord and Lady Battenberg began the dance alone, and then were soon joined by other couples. Dante swung Lydia into his arms, and everything seemed r