The Letter (29 page)

The strings began a waltz, and Diana’s heart performed its own frenzied dance. She really, really should have brought a vinaigrette. Not giving her time to flee, Michael escorted her onto the dance floor, and sketched a bow. She stood, frozen and near panic.

“Windows in hell,” he murmured.

His words freed her, and she gave him a little smile as she curtseyed. Not looking anywhere but at him, she placed her hand in his, felt the supportive press of his other hand on her lower back, and let him sweep her into the dance. Halfway down the floor, the Duke and Duchess of Aubrey stepped out and joined them, and then her parents, followed by Lady Suzanne on the arm of Lord Marcus-Holmes.

A couple she didn’t recognize tried to join them, but Derebourne put his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook his head. He then took Claire’s hand and escorted her onto the floor. As each couple had joined them, her supporters closed ranks, preventing the new arrivals from stepping on the dance floor. Diana thought it was no longer necessary as it appeared everyone now realized this particular dance had been planned for a select few. The growing crowd did not seem to care, only seemed pleased they were here to witness it.

At their second turn about the floor, she relaxed enough to peek over Michael’s shoulder. Everyone’s eyes were trained on her and Michael. She gazed into his eyes, and was swept back in time to the night a beautiful young lord had asked her to dance. If she had known where it would lead, would she have taken his hand?

Yes. Yes she would have in spite of all her heartbreak and suffering. She could not have stopped loving him if she had tried, and he had given her Jamie. For that reason alone, she would walk barefoot through the fires of hell.

“Your eyes have gone all soft. What are you thinking, Myana?”

“I’m remembering our first dance.”

“I’ve never forgotten. It seems we have come full circle.” With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he expertly twirled her around the corner.

“Explain again the purpose of this dance and why we are doing it now,” she said.

“We are doing it now because there aren’t so many in the ballroom that our friends can’t keep them off the dance floor. Also, those who did not arrive early will be asking for a recounting, and that should give them more than enough to talk about without dredging up the past.”

“I still don’t understand the reason for it.”

“If you had your way, you would be hiding in a corner behind a potted plant. That just would not do. Instead of cowering where they can treat you as an outcast, you are making a statement. If they want to talk about you, and they will, we are controlling what they say.”

“Exactly what is my statement?”

“Why, you are saying, I am back and there is nothing you can do about it.”

She glanced to the side. Would it be as easy as he made it sound?

“Stop watching them and look at me. Listen. When this dance ends, you will not leave the floor. Aubrey will partner you in the Cotillion, and then your father in a country dance. After a short break, Derebourne will ask you to dance, followed by Lord Marcus-Holmes. The supper dance is reserved for me as is the last waltz. I believe you also promised a dance to the Marcus-Holmes lads. Stop looking at me in dismay. I promise to give your feet a good rub when we return home.”

“There is that, but my look is because we cannot share three dances. Everyone will believe you are courting me.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am courting you and by now, they know it.”

The dance ended before she could respond and His Grace stepped up. Michael placed her hand in the duke’s, and then turned to Katie and bowed. Diana forgot about three dances and courting. The big man partnering her now was too intimidating to think of anything but making certain she didn’t step on his toes. He looked down at her and scowled. She gulped. How had she displeased him? He danced them close to Michael and Katie.

“Katie, she’s quaking in her shoes. Tell her I’m harmless.”

Katie snorted. “I would, Aubrey, if it were true.”

The duchess and Michael shared a laugh and then moved away. It was only the second time in her life Diana had heard a duchess snort. Yet, it was Katie’s response that settled her. She grinned at the duke. “I think I am coming to love your wife.”

He glanced at his duchess and his eyes turned soft. “She seems to have that effect on all who know her. Isn’t she beautiful tonight?”

Well, the big bear of a man had just endeared himself to her. “Yes, she is.”

He grunted in obvious satisfaction at her answer. Diana relaxed, deciding there was no reason not to enjoy her dance with the duke. For such a large man, he was surprisingly light on his feet. She circled around him, missing a step when she caught Lady Hartwell staring at her. She looked into those ghostly blue eyes and recognized trouble.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Someone has been following me, I am sure of it,” Michael said.

Aubrey turned from watching his duchess dancing with Lord Manchester. “Has anyone thought to tell Manchester his waistcoat is bloody hideous? What color is that anyway?”

“I believe it is called puce.”

“If you ever see me wearing puce anywhere on my body, I beg you to shoot me. Now, what is this about someone following you?”

Positioned so they could see the dance floor, Michael kept his gaze on Diana and the youngest Marcus-Holmes son, Thomas. He also kept track of Serena dancing with Marlowe. The American was keeping her well away from Diana.

“For almost a week now I have sensed I am being watched, but have not been able to catch more than a glimpse of someone. Whoever it is disappears before I can apprehend him. I cannot think of anyone who would care that much about where I go.”

“I can.”

Michael turned a surprised look at Aubrey. “Who would that be, Your Grace?”

Aubrey lifted his chin toward the dance floor. Michael followed his gaze to Serena. “You think she is having me followed?”

“Who else? You are aware I had a brief affair with her before I married my duchess, and I know the way she thinks. It is something she would do.”

Michael could not disagree. “But to what purpose?”

“Now that, I cannot say, but if I were you, I would keep a close eye on my lady. Serena might take it in her head to do something stupid. Come to the club tomorrow afternoon. I will have my valet follow you when you leave, and if there is someone up to no good, Reeves will capture him.”

“I think I want your man. If I told mine he was to follow some blackguard and catch him, he would swoon right into my arms.”

“Reeves is not your typical valet. He spent four years in France with me hunting down some very bad men. You cannot have him.”

That was the most Aubrey had ever said of his time away from England. Michael curbed his curiosity, and turned his mind to Serena. Would she dare try something? He had the urge to confront her now, but had no proof and could not afford to make a scene.

So far, his plan had worked to perfection. By the time Diana left the dance floor for the first time, the crowd had received the message that she had some very powerful protectors. They would whisper behind their hands, there was no way to stop it, but no one would dare snub her.

“Puce. What a ridiculous color.”

Michael glanced up to see Manchester escorting the duchess back to her husband. Aubrey took Her Grace’s hand. “I find your waistcoat utterly fascinating, Manchester. Now do go away.”

Swallowing a laugh, Michael waited for Thomas to return Diana. Observing the boy’s face, he guessed the lad was experiencing his first infatuation with an older woman. Amused, he listened to Thomas stutter his thanks to Diana before he backed away, not taking his gaze from her until he bumped into Aubrey.

Michael put Diana’s hand on his arm. “Let us take a turn about the room. It will only embarrass your young admirer more if we stay and witness his profuse apologies to His Grace.”

She glanced over her shoulder as they walked away. “Poor boy, his face is red and he is trying to smooth the duke’s sleeve.”

“What is Aubrey doing?”

“He is fiercely scowling.”

“That should give the lad bad dreams tonight. Tell me, have you managed to enjoy yourself a little?”

“Oh, Michael, I never would have believed it possible. My feet are miserable, but the rest of me is having such fun.”

“That pleases me. Well, not that your feet are hurting, but that you are happy. We have one more scene to play, and then it will be over. After we return home, I’ll give you a foot rub, something to look forward to.”

“You are not going to rub my feet, my lord.”

He leaned his mouth to her ear. “Oh, but I am, my lady.” He stopped when they came upon Lady Montford sitting with Derebourne’s mother, Lady Kensington. There were few people Michael liked as much as Lady Kensington. The diminutive woman could entertain a boisterous belly laugh out of the staid Prime Minister, Liverpool, if she took a mind to.

He bowed. “Lady Brantley, allow me to introduce you to Derebourne’s mother, Lady Kensington. I fell half in love with her the first time I accompanied Derebourne home on one of our school holidays. I actually cried when it was time to leave.”

Lady Kensington rolled her eyes. “You were crying, Daventry, because you didn’t want to leave Cook and her raspberry tarts. You charmed her into sending tarts to you at school.” She gave Diana an assessing look. “When this man wants something, there is no stopping him. But you already know that I am guessing.”

“He is a brick wall, my lady,” Diana said, taking a seat next to Lady Kensington.

Unable to deny it, Michael shrugged. “She implies it is a bad thing to be, but what is more dependable than a brick wall? You always know where they stand.”

“If maintained properly, they will never fall down,” Lady Kensington added.

Lady Montford clapped her hands. “Oh, I do love a good word game.” She pointedly looked at Michael’s chest and shoulders. “They are strong.”

“If built right, they are lovely to look at,” said Lady Kensington, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Sometimes, they are wonderfully warm to the touch.” Lady Montford clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning bright red. “Oh dear, please tell me I didn’t say that.”

Michael stood still under their scrutiny and prayed he wasn’t blushing. To see Diana happy, her head close to Lady Kensington’s as the three women giggled like schoolgirls was worth the embarrassment.

“I came this close to winning her in a card game with Brantley.”

Her laughter gone, Diana looked at him, panic in her eyes. “Be still. Stay quiet,” he hissed.

He deliberately turned so he blocked her from view. Dangler stood close, holding two fingers apart, showing Lady Parson, the biggest gossip in all of England, just how near he had come to having Diana in his clutches. The viscount was a dead man. Serena stood behind Dangler, her expression one of shocked innocence, but there was triumph glittering in her eyes.

What the devil had he ever seen in the woman?

Lady Parson’s eyes lit up with glee. “But if you didn’t win her, who did?” She tried to look past Michael, but he inched to the left effectively shielding Diana.

Bloody hell. Tonight had been going so well. Serena was behind this, and she would pay dearly, but first, he had a viscount to deal with.

“Tell Lady Parson you are lying, Dangler.” Michael lifted a hand and began to remove a glove. He had been longing to kill someone ever since getting Leo’s letter and it seemed he had found the perfect target.

Dangler’s eyes widened in unmistakable alarm, and he stepped back. “I say, Daventry, keep your glove on. I won’t fight you. You can blame her, she told me to say it.” He pointed to Serena.

“Stupid fool,” Serena hissed at the viscount. She turned on Michael, fury pouring from her in waves. “It is true. That American, Mr. Marlowe, won her. Lord Dangler was there and saw it all.”

Sensing something was amiss, the surrounding crowd inched closer. Michael cursed himself for not considering what Serena might do and not having a plan to deflect her. A heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder as Aubrey moved next to him, followed by Derebourne.

“I will second you, Daventry,” Aubrey said.

He nodded and pulled off his glove. He glanced at Diana. Her Grace, Lady Derebourne, and his mother were huddled around her. The shame he saw in her eyes tore at his heart. He lifted his gaze to Dangler, who took another step away, his face drained of color. The man looked like a petrified rabbit ready to bolt. Michael had no sympathy. Before he could slap his glove across the viscount’s face, Marlowe pushed through the crowd.

“Lord Dangler saw nothing the night you are referring to, Lady Hartwell.” As one, all eyes turned to the American. “He was so far gone in his cups I had to carry him in my arms like a babe to his carriage.” He turned a disgusted look on Dangler. “Hell’s fires, he even drooled all over my waistcoat.”

Several ladies tittered. Marlowe grinned, showing a row of even white teeth. “Not having much experience with babies, I wasn’t sure if I should pat his back until he belched.”

That brought much laughter. Michael kept his gaze on his unpredictable ex-mistress. At the sound of the crowd’s amusement, her lips thinned. She pushed past Dangler, marching up to Marlowe.

“Lord Dangler has no reason to lie. You sir, won Lady Brantley in that card game.”

Marlowe made a slow perusal of Lady Brantley. “I wouldn’t have minded winning the lady, but she was never on the table. What I did win was twenty thousand pounds.”

“Brantley didn’t have that kind of money.”

Marlowe heaved a sigh. “I know that now, darling. If I’d known it then, I never would have sat in a game with the fool. If you’re worried about me, pretty little girl, you can rest easy. Lord Daventry graciously covered his cousin’s debt.”

“You are lying, sir.” She turned her rage on Michael. “Why are you protecting her? Who knows how many men—”

Michael was ready to slap his glove in Serena’s face. “Be very careful what you say next, Lady Hartwell.”

Lord Rotharton stepped into the fray. “It would be best if you left, Lady Hartwell. I won’t stand for you disparaging my daughter.”