"The devil you're sorry!"
He whirled her around so quickly that she had to cling to him to keep her balance. Again, that very discomfiting feeling assailed her, deep in her stomach, and she stared up at him, her hand tightening unconsciously on his shoulder. He would have sworn an oath on his favorite stallion's head that he would be immune, but he wasn't. Making love to Lois --- Lord, he'd lost count --- should have rendered him as uninterested as cold ashes in a summer grate, but here he was becoming as quickly aroused as a randy goat. He quickly pulled away from her, his mouth tight. He would hand her over to DuPres and damn the consequences.
But he didn't, of course. He steered her, eyes straight ahead, back to Lucia, who was surrounded by four gentlemen waiting for Diana to alight in their vicinity.
Lucia was congratulating herself on her brilliant strategy. She'd been the pleased recipient of several observations by other ladies, telling her that Lady Danvers' malicious gossip was all of a piece. "If she is not careful," Lady Ombersely had pronounced, "she will find herself outr. I, myself, will cut her!" Of course, Lucia had no intention of so informing dear Lyonel of the true state of affairs.
His look was a cool stare as he handed Diana over to the nearly drooling Sir Mortimer Dunlevy, the vacuous sod.
"I am going to the card room," Lyonel said, unwillingly following Diana with his eyes as she smiled up at the sod. "If I am not mistaken, Dancy will be endeavoring to lose his damned shirt. He believes himself the master of piquet. Indeed, I just might trounce him myself, then tell him in no uncertain terms ---"
"No!"
Lyonel bent a sapient eye on Lucia. "Why the devil not?"
"I told you, my boy, that I should like to leave things just as they are. I wish to wait and see which way the wind is blowing."
"Unfortunately, my dearest Aunt, you are not making a whit of sense. I shall do what I think is appropriate." He raised a hand when he saw she would protest further. "I won't say a word until I deem it necessary, however."
Lucia had to be content with that. She watched him stride across the ballroom floor, stopping to chat with friends, nod to acquaintances. She saw young ladies' eyes follow him with wistful hope as well as older ladies with not so wistful looks in their eyes. Her heart no longer ached for him. Diana was fast bringing him back to life and perspective.
Unfortunately, Lyonel was still in the card room when Monsieur DuPres solicited Diana's hand in a waltz. Before she replied, she found herself looking over the group of people, searching for Lyonel. He wasn't there. She tossed her head, smiled at Etienne DuPres, and graciously gave him her hand. If Lyonel returned --- and she prayed he would --- he would have something to chew over.
Because she was continually looking for Lyonel, she merely nodded and agreed when Monsieur DuPres spoke. He, however, was most pleased and completely unaware of her mental defection. He was a bit surprised when she kept agreeing with him on his compliments to her, but all considered, it was an excellent sign. Lady Danvers had not led him astray. With years of smooth practice, he waltzed her toward the corner of the ballroom and drew her to a halt behind a large potted fern. A pity, he thought, that there was no balcony here at this dreary place.
Diana came to her senses when her feet stopped moving.
"Why are we stopping, monsieur? The music has not come to an end as yet."
He murmured something in seductive French and glided his fingertip over her cheek and down her throat. "So soft, so pliant," he continued in French, wondering now if the chit was so uneducated not to understand his beautifully turned French phrases.
Diana merely looked at him, a slight frown puckering her forehead. "Soft and pliant? That sounds like some sort of tropical flower."
"Ah, yes, pretty little dove, and your scent, so fragrant, so --- so sduisante ---"
"Sweaty?"
"No!" He muttered something in French again and Diana guessed with stunning accuracy that it was no compliment.
He splayed his hands in front of her, his fingertips but inches from her bosom. Diana took a step back only to feel the fern tickling her shoulder blades.
"You are ripe for the plucking, are you not, ma petite?"
"No," she said. "No, I am not ripe for anything except perhaps for a glass of that very bland punch."
DuPres frowne
d, then persevered. "Your body is ripe, for me. I will give you such pleasure, such ---"
"Bosh. Excuse me, monsieur. I find you excessively tedious. I wish to return to my aunt." Thus annihilated, Monsieur DuPres, his face alarmingly red, had no choice but to escort the ridiculous girl back to her relative. His next stop was Lady Danvers. He had a few choice words to say to her, and since her French was excellent, he could unburden himself with potent accuracy.
"Why did you dance with that man?" Lucia demanded as Diana fanned herself vigorously with her hand.
"To spite Lyonel, but he wasn't even here. He is most provoking, Aunt."
Lucia smiled. She wondered what she would do if Diana weren't so appallingly honest. "Yes, he is."
Lyonel became more provoking as the night wore on. He did not return from the card room until the early hours of the morning to escort the ladies home. He said nothing, seemingly unaware of Diana's snit, until they reached Lucia's town house. After handing Lucia down, he merely looked at Diana and said, "I trust I do not have to strain my back? Your slippers are still on your feet?"