Cloaked in Danger (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

The next night, Aria stood at the edge of Viscount Turleton’s ballroom, watching as the couples danced to a lively country song being played by an invisible band. She searched the room for any sign of a musician, with no luck.

She needed something to focus on, so she could ignore the whispers and looks.

At that moment, Adam came to stand next to her. “Over to your far left, behind the screen. See that potted tree?”

“What?”

He quirked a smile. “You are searching for the musicians. The befuddled look on your face as you scan each wall is a dead giveaway.”

Making a face at him, she looked where he directed, at the screen positioned not quite against the wall. “Why on earth would someone put the musicians there?”

Adam shrugged. “Some say it’s to dampen the sound to a passable level, but I don’t see how it makes much difference. Personally, I think Turleton enjoys lording his status over those who are not of noble birth. Keeping those who work for him separate from his guests ensures that.” He paused. “How are you?”

She snorted.

Their pending marriage had done wonders to keep the flow of invitations consistent, despite the gossip fodder. That morning, six more had arrived.

Already, the barrage of knowing glances cast her way had begun to grate on Aria’s nerves. For all their intents and purposes, she was officially a successful title hunter.

She’d captured an earl.

And she had done it, according to the society rag she’d sworn not to read, with admirable single-minded pursuit and focus. Admirable pursuit and focus. How ridiculous.

She was far from noble, and this could very well be the least noble thing she’d done. Yet.

Adam’s hand came to rest on the small of her back, wreaking havoc with her thoughts. She could feel every inch of every finger that moved up and down in tiny movements. Comforting her? Was he trying to offer her some of his strength?

“We should dance.”

She looked up at him. “Whatever for?”

The corners of his mouth quirked. “It would do well to appear we actually like each other. It dissolves some of the mystery, Miss Whitney.” His eyes twinkled. “Right now, most of the less-than-discreet guests casting glances our way are entertained by their imaginings of something far more salacious than what prompted our betrothal. And the more decorous our behavior, the more salacious their gossip. A dance would provide a dose of reality.”

“That they will still gossip about.”

“True. But I see only the benefit of being able to hold you in my arms in public for the first time.”

His good-natured tease managed to sound charming enough that Aria found herself agreeing. “Very well.”

They moved to the floor and the noise around them rose like the busy buzz of small bees.

He placed his hand upon her waist, and lifted the other in the structured position of the dance. Aria placed her hand inside his, instantly remembering the way his fingers had felt as they’d curled into her hair.

His fingers wrapped over hers, and they began to move.

Her father had taught her to waltz when she was a child, but she’d had little practice until recent weeks. And those experiences had felt awkward, with toes stepped on, hands wandering. With Adam’s hand at her back, guiding her with a firm, but gentle nudge, they glided into a graceful pattern that surprised her.

They fit.

Her hand folded into his as if they were meant to be that way. Every turn felt natural, as though she knew how he would move her before he did.

She looked up into his face, and her breath caught at the tenderness, the desire in his gaze. She felt only the whirling of the dance. The heightening strains of the music enveloped them and wiped the rest of the world away.

He tightened his grip, pulling her in closer, and Aria needed to lean toward him. Her body tingled with joy. She wanted to feel as much of him as she could, to let him guide her for this one, unforgettable moment. He swirled her around in a swift circle, and a laugh bubbled up inside of her.

She was happy.

And just as swiftly as the euphoria erupted, reality crashed around her.

She stumbled, suddenly out of sync with him, and Adam swept her up in his arms to keep them both from falling over. But she stopped, dead in the middle of the floor. Her stomach dropped, and she struggled to catch her breath, keenly aware of the faces that peered at them with fascination, ready to pounce on any tidbit they might provide the gossip chain.

“That scowl won’t do much but convince someone I’ve stepped upon your foot,” Adam teased, his hold about her strong, secure and not loosening one bit.

“Let go,” she said, feeling the need to flee. “Please, I just...I need some air.”

A shadow crossed his face, but he covered well. With a graceful release, he turned her around and placed a hand on her back to guide her firmly through the crowd. He didn’t stop until they had reached a quiet corner, where she immediately sat down in the chair.

“One dance does you in, does it?” Adam grinned. “I expected more stamina, I must say.”

“Do not flirt with me right now. We shouldn’t...I shouldn’t do this right now.”

“Shouldn’t what? Enjoy yourself?” He knelt in front of her. “Having a bit of fun does not mean you’ve deviated off course.”

She shot her gaze up to his, guilt drawing her brows together. “Doesn’t it?”

“My God, no.” He reached up, slipped his hands around until hers were enveloped. Aria’s fingers clung to his. “It means you are human. Frankly, I’m a bit relieved to see that.”

She gave a short surprised laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Since I met you, you’ve had a singular focus. It’s a bit daunting, I must admit. That focus has driven your every action. Except right now.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on the top. “You allowed yourself to be in the moment with me. That doesn’t mean you’ve lost your way, or that we have given up. In fact, I have not yet had a moment to tell you, but I learned some tidbits of interest at White’s last night. You may cross off the Earl of Dunlevy and Marquess Stillman. They are accounted for.” Adam gave a quick point. “Over there. That is Viscount Turleton. We are not well acquainted, but I can engage him in conversation. Don’t expect much, Aria. He does not disclose information about his activities.” His upper lip curled slightly as if he found it distasteful.

“May we go now?”

Adam glanced at her, wary. “All right,” he replied slowly.

She opened her mouth, but no words came that could express her gratitude for his understanding, for his ease with her. He was a good man. He cared.

About her. His family. He was gentlemanly toward everyone, in fact. That, in her mind, was a far finer quality than his title and yet, by nature of this world, those attributes paled in comparison to the value of being an earl.

She far preferred the attributes that made him a man.

She turned to walk toward Turleton, but Adam’s hand landed on her arm. “I will take the lead, remember?”

“It’s not as if I’m going to ask the man if he has my father in his basement.” She’d let Adam do the overt asking, but what harm could it do if she encouraged things? If the conversation proved fruitless, she could search some of his rooms.

Next to her, Adam heaved a sigh. “Very well. I shall introduce you, but please follow my lead, Aria. He is not a pleasant man.”

What did that mean? Her father had done business with Turleton. How bad could he be?

Just then she noticed Lady Beasley, who sat encircled with a group of women on the other side of the ballroom, waving at her. She thought for a moment of pretending she hadn’t seen. “It appears Lady Beasley is calling. Give me a moment, and I’ll see how she’s faring. She was under the weather earlier.”

“Of course.” He drained his glass and held his hand out for hers. “I’ll go refresh our drinks.”

She raised a brow. “Are you by chance avoiding those women?” Many of whom were highly disappointed in his marital status, she imagined. And why wouldn’t they be? Pride rose in her chest, filled her heart. He was a catch. And though she hadn’t quite settled on how she felt about it, he was hers.

He nodded. “I’ll be back. You’ll wait with her, right?”

“Of course.” As soon as he left, she circled around a few groups and made her way to Lady Beasley’s side. Pleasantries, introductions and cordial conversation that never delved too deep. While one of Lady Beasley’s friends rattled on about her latest interior decorating project, Aria let her gaze travel the room in a lazy circle. She smiled as she spotted Adam’s sister and the duke.

Perfect timing.

“If you’ll excuse me, Lady Beasley, Lady Retton.” Aria strolled away, directly toward where Blythe and Ravensdale stood. Talking with Viscount Turleton.

Blythe was the first to notice Aria, as the duke and Turleton were deep in conversation. Blythe reached out, tugged on her hand, and pulled her closer to her side. “Adam mentioned you were attending tonight, so we wanted to be here to lend our support.”

“Blythe, I...” She stopped, unsure of what to say. She had seen Blythe the other morning, but there had been no time to talk privately. “I know you have little reason to trust me,” she finally said.

Blythe cocked her head. “May I be frank?”

“Of course.”

“I am glad you happened along.” She held up a hand as if to stop Aria’s response. “I might have preferred a different way, but Adam was so steadfast in his belief that he couldn’t marry until all of us had. He would have been miserable. We would have been miserable.” She chuckled. “You have saved my younger sisters in countless ways. Had Adam nothing to focus on but their suitors, God wouldn’t be enough to help them.”

Her mirth was contagious, and Aria grinned back. “I am happy to be of service.”

“I wish to see my brother happy.” She pressed her fingers against Aria’s arm.

Worry flashed through Aria. “I might drive your brother to pieces with frustration.”

“And who is to say that won’t make him happy?”

“Miss Whitney, a pleasure to see you again.” The duke’s conversation with Viscount Turleton had halted, and they both turned to face her.

Ravensdale made introductions.

Aria gave a small smile. “A pleasure, Lord Turleton.”

“The pleasure is surely mine.” He was handsome in an intentional sort of way, with the shot of dark hair that fell in a perfect wave over his forehead and a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But his gaze was as bold as if she stood naked.

She met his gaze head-on, and then with an air of reluctance, let hers move about the room in an awed stare. “The décor in your home is simply breathtaking.” If one enjoyed copious amounts of velvet and cherubs. “Are all the rooms in the house decorated so?”

He beamed. “My dear mother had such an eye, didn’t she? Though she lives in Bath now, I believe this house is a crowning achievement. It took her years to complete each room.”

“And exactly two months for him to banish her to Bath after his father died,” Blythe whispered in her ear.

Aria breathed through her fixed smile and tried not to laugh. She turned instead to Blythe.

“Lady Ashton, don’t you find this décor refreshing?” Aria could not help the amusement in her eyes, and as she met Blythe’s wary gaze, that amusement was instantly reflected.

“Most assuredly. Who knew one could use red velvet so...completely.” She peered up at the duke. “I believe I might redecorate your parlor.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Not if you wish me to set foot in it.” He was hailed by a group of men, and with a quick by-your-leave, moved to another conversation.

Lord Turleton moved to stand next to Aria and Blythe. “Perhaps you would be interested in seeing more of the décor? Of course, all of us.”

Even though she was precisely where she had aimed to be, a ripple of unease ran up her spine at being so close to this man. She glanced about but didn’t see Adam anywhere nearby. She should wait, she knew.

But Blythe was with them. What harm was there?

“I would be honored.” She glanced at Blythe, who grimaced but nodded. Then Aria let Turleton tuck her hand into his arm.

She nodded and listened vaguely to his chatter, pointing out various elements of the room—the wallpaper, the sconces—as they moved among the guests.

A frantic waving caught Aria’s eye. “Blythe, isn’t that Cordelia?”

Blythe looked in the direction and sighed. “Yes, I am being summoned, so come with me, and we’ll finish the tour another time. Aria, shall we?”

It was the perfect out, but Turleton looked expectantly at her. “The dining room is by far the best.”

“I’d like to see the rest,” she assured them. The house was well-lit and small enough to ensure a constant parade of people. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Blythe stayed. “Perhaps I will wait until Adam returns, then.”

Behind her, Cordelia stalked toward them.

“Go. This won’t take but a minute or two.” Before Blythe could argue, Cordelia was upon them, pulling at her sister for help with something. She paid Aria no mind, and so Aria turned to Turleton.

In minutes, they were headed down the corridor. Various couples and groups of people were walking the same corridor. It would be fine. They were far from alone. She would learn the layout of the house during the quick tour, and they’d return to Adam’s side immediately.

They went through a set of open double doors and Aria surveyed the room from left to right: an ornately carved desk, a wall of dark, leather-covered books behind it with a square center cut out to hold a painting. The rest of the walls were once again in the god-awful red velvet coverings with draperies to match. It was decor she would expect to find in a brothel, had she ever any reason to enter one.

And it wasn’t a dining room.

A soft click caught her attention, and she turned to look at the viscount. Alarm perked as she saw the doors were closed behind him.

In that second, of course, when it was too late, she knew she’d made a mistake. And why was that always the way of things for her? Why wasn’t it possible for her to learn from her mistakes before she made them, not after?