tt.’
‘Thank you.’ Goodness knows why she was thanking him, he obviously intended to leave the gallery anyway, because he had seen what, or who, he was looking for. She was very glad she was not his quarry. That smile had been positively wolfish. Sophie led the way to the left-hand spiral staircase and, when they were out in the corridor, locked the door and slipped the key back into its hiding place. ‘This way to the ballroom.’
‘I must return the key that I used.’ He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and strolled off in the opposite direction.
Struggling was undignified. He would release her once they reached the other door, she told herself. Dukes did not abduct young ladies in the middle of balls. Unfortunately, said the wicked voice in her head. Stop it! common-sense ordered. But when he returned the key to its lock he kept walking in the same direction.
He was a duke but he had spent years living in the most uncivilised places, according to his cousin Ralph. He might have had his brain turned by the tropical sun, or have been indoctrinated into strange rites by some South Pacific tribe. Perhaps she was being abducted…
Sophie kept her voice steady, as much to calm her own wild imaginings as to bring him to order. ‘We need to go back now. This leads only to the head of the stairs and the main entrance.’ His side was hard and warm against the back of her hand. She shifted nervously and felt the silk of his coat lining slide over the silk of his waistcoat. Layers and layers over bare skin…
‘Where better to enter?’
‘But I have already been announced.’
‘I have not.’
So how did you get in?
The receiving line had gone when they reached the famous double staircase with its gilded flambeaux holders, but a footman was still in attendance to announce the late arrivals.
‘The Duke of Calderbrook,’ her abductor said. ‘Miss Wilmott has already been announced.’
The man threw open the double doors, Sophie gave a determined wriggle and found herself swept along regardless.
‘People will think I have been outside with you,’ she hissed between stiff lips.
‘But you have. It is quite all right, you do not have a hair out of place and you certainly do not look as though we have been disporting in some retiring room. Don’t get into a pother, Sophie.’
Disporting indeed! Was he trying to reduce her to strong hysterics? ‘I am not in a pother.’ I am being kidnapped by a man with deliciously strong arms and swept into a scandal and if he was sweeping me anywhere else I would be delighted. Terrified, but delighted. I am obviously in the grip of a brain fever. ‘It is Miss Wilmott and I am exceedingly cross with you. Oh, I could hit you!’ she stormed in a whisper as he took no notice whatsoever.
‘Take first place in the queue, Sophie. I am certain there will be a long tail behind you wanting to do just that in a minute. Now, here we go.’
The music had stopped. The footman cleared his throat. She was going to be late for the next set.
‘His Grace the Duke of Calderbrook!’
They were at the top of the sweep of steps down into the ballroom. Heads turned. There was a sudden silence, then voices began to rise. Calderbrook. The Lost Duke? He’s been gone for years. Calderbrook, Calderbrook, Calderbrook… Miss Wilmott?
Sophie hastily tacked a faint, unconcerned, smile on her lips. The duke descended slowly, looking neither to right nor left, that devilish curve still on his lips. Under her hand his arm felt perfectly relaxed.
Sophie decided that fainting was not going to help matters, so she began to catch the eye of people as she passed, smiled, made a rueful face, lifted a brow, gave a little shrug. I have no idea what is going on either, she signalled. Isn’t it peculiar? What fun.
She thought the Duke was going to simply keep going, right through the ballroom and out the other side, then he stopped in front of someone she knew, a man in late middle age and his son. He turned to her, lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips once more. ‘Miss Wilmott, I thank you for escorting a poor lost soul. Perhaps I might have the pleasure of a dance later.’
‘Your Grace, I would be most happy. I believe I have some free.’ She dropped the slightest hint of a curtsey and stepped back into the crowd. No-one was looking at her, thank heavens. All eyes were fixed on the Duke and on the men he was facing, Lord Peter Thorne his uncle, and Ralph Thorne his cousin. Her own lukewarm suitor. They seemed stunned. Not joyful, not surprised, simply shocked.
It was not her business and it might add emphasis to her unconventional entrance if she showed interest. The violins scraped a few notes, then fell silent. The next set was forming and where was Lord Heaton?
‘Miss Wilmott. Surely that was not you entering just now? And was that indeed Calderbrook?’ Her partner had found her.
‘Yes it was, and I believe it is.’ And put a zero in the Intelligent column under your name, my lord. ‘I met him just outside the door and he positively caught me up. Really quite thrilling. For a moment I thought he was going to sweep me down the stairs and abscond with me.’ She produced an inane titter with worrying ease.
‘Most alarming for you, Miss Wilmott.’ Heaton frowned and set his jaw. ‘I shall go and have a firm word with him. Duke or not, he cannot go around accosting young ladies. Are you very discommoded, Miss Wilmott? Perhaps you would prefer that I take you to your mama.’
And another zero in the Humour column. And a tick in a new column for Pomposity. Oh dear. Lord Heaton had been the second on her list of potential husbands. Mentally she drew a thick black line through his name. ‘There is no harm done, please do not call him to account, I would be so embarrassed. Doubtless the Duke has a sense of the dramatic but I am sure the effect of dancing with you will be most calming, Lord Heaton.’ She smiled and took his hand and allowed herself to be taken to join the set that was forming. Obviously the fun was over for the evening.
‘Calderbrook?’ His uncle stared at him as though he had descended from the ceiling in a fiery chariot. ‘Cal, it really is you? Why didn’t you let us know you were returning?’ He was not far off gibbering.