Veiled in Blue (9 page)

He gazed at Julius directly, his dark eyes challenging.

A feminine voice came from his right. “Mr. Vernon?”

With relief, Julius turned to face the lady who addressed him, but he did not miss the tightening of Mr. King’s mouth and the way his nostrils flared, and he widened his eyes. That slight change in expression disturbed Julius. Mr. King had just realized something, and Julius feared he knew what it was.

Whatever had he done, using his real name? True, Vernon was not a particularly unusual name, but anyone knowing it could presume he had a connection with the Vernons. His obsession with not lying had dragged him into a situation he did not appreciate.

His incognito journeys depended on his ability to remain unrecognized. But with Eve he had not been able to lie about his name, and that was proving a mistake. When she fixed him with those clear eyes, he could do nothing but smile like a fool and tell her whatever she wanted to know. If she ever asked him if he was the Earl of Winterton, he would be hard put to deny it.

Julius gave a faint smile. “I daresay, but our experiences must be very different. Did you not spend most of your time in the north?”

The hesitation told Julius much. The man had to pause to invent something plausible. “I have visited London frequently. Our experiences may not be so unlike,” the man persisted. “We may have mutual acquaintances. Are you familiar with the Marquess of Strenshall, for instance?”

The name sent a warning jolt through Julius. He frowned. “I can’t claim an intimate acquaintance.” He could get no closer without telling a lie, and he wanted to avoid doing that. The marquess was his uncle, so “acquaintanceship” was putting their relationship a little too mildly.

Was the marquess, who had fingers in a number of pies, merely a name Mr. King liked to trot out to impress people? He would test that theory. “You move in exalted circles, sir.”

Mr. King waved his hand carelessly and laughed. “As you must, also. He is a mere business acquaintance, but a valued one, wouldn’t you agree?”

The man was testing Julius for sure, trying to push him into an outright lie. “I would indeed, sir. He and his family have considerable resources and influence. I believe his brother-in-law and his nephew are more active in the business world.”

“Mr. Beaumont?” Mr. King curled his lip. “He married above his station. We should all be so lucky.” He glanced around the room. “But I must not keep you. Many people will be waiting to speak to you. Especially when they know all your secrets.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The Vernons are a distinguished family, are they not?”

He knew. Cold dread invaded Julius, and he felt he was walking into the jaws of an iron trap.

He would not retreat. He could not, if he wanted to keep Eve safe. He flattened his mouth in an unusual public display of distaste. He glanced at Mr. King, who was watching him closely. “There are many Vernons in the world.”

King bowed. “Of course. I did not intend to impugn you or accuse you of dishonesty. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Julius assured him, although he didn’t mean it. King knew who he was, or at the least, which family he belonged to.

“Do you remain in Appleton long?” King asked.

“Longer than I initially thought.”

King watched him carefully, but Julius was well accustomed to having attention fixed on him, and he revealed nothing, not the twitch of an eyebrow. He allowed his mouth to curve slightly. “Lord Ripley is taken up with the new addition to his family, and he has little time for business.”

“Ah.” Mr. King echoed the smile, but Julius saw no warmth in his eyes.

Dancers took to the floor and faced each other. The young women beamed, their eyes shining, and the men facing them returned their enthusiasm. When they danced, they did it wholeheartedly. None of society’s grace and reticence pervaded their movements. Julius smiled too, their enthusiasm becoming contagious.

The floor bounced in time to their energetic leaps and hops. They were more or less in time, probably performing this and the others on a regular basis.

He felt Eve’s presence close to him, not needing to look to know she was by.

“You’re smiling,” she said.

Her voice warmed him. “So I am,” he said without turning around. “How did you know?”

“I saw you,” she said. “A proper smile when you turned away from Mr. King.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Mr. King had moved on and was out of earshot. “Are you implying something?”

“No, of course not.”

He enjoyed the saucy smile she bestowed on him. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed everything about her. She wore a simple gown in a plain color, but the azure blue suited her, and she bore it, as she did everything she put on, with a sense of rightness, of belonging. He recognized a sense of style when he saw it. Faced with all the luxuries London had to offer, would she retain it? He wanted to find out, felt he would not rest until he knew.

When he was with Eve he could think. His feelings for her were so unlike those he’d experienced with Caroline that he had quite made up his mind to have her. Not love, but deep liking and a physical arousal he would be a fool to deny.

“You are, madam, and you could be right. Should I consider Mr. King a serious rival for your hand?”

She blinked, eyes wide, and only then did he realize what he had just said or implied. “My hand?”

He gentled his voice. “Can you doubt it?”

She jerked her chin to one side and then the other, uncharacteristically awkward. “Sir, you forget yourself. Or where we are. Flirtation is one thing, but intent is quite another. I should remind you of my circumstances.”

“I forget nothing.” He held still, watching her. A longing to touch her seized him, making him stiffen his muscles in the fight not to pull her into his arms in a shocking display of intimacy. “Why should I hide that I find you attractive?”

“I’m sorry sir, but…” A blush of adorable confusion mantled her cheeks.

He gentled his voice. “Surely you’ve heard that before.”

She sighed, and appeared genuinely confused. “I don’t like it…”

“What?” Despite his much-vaunted control, the word emerged too sharply. “Has someone hurt you in the past?”

“No.” She glanced around.

Julius hated her discomfort. He searched for a way to alleviate it.

The fiddler stopped playing, and the dancers applauded. The man bowed but then tucked his instrument under his chin once more.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked her. A country dance would afford her a chance to retain her composure. Eve was charmingly open, unlike anyone he had met in a ballroom before. Most young ladies making their debuts in society had learned the correct behavior from the cradle. Consequently, their actions were similar, their behavior acceptable and within what society expected. In short, tedious.

With a bright smile, she placed her hand in his when he held it out. He turned it so her palm was resting on the back of his hand, but the brief intimate palm-to-palm contact pleased him and warmed his heart. His small flirtatious gesture made her flush adorably.

Taking note of the formation, Julius took his place in the set. He bowed to Eve and began the first figure.

Dancing in this way proved more difficult than he had imagined. Julius danced with grace and elegance, a skill instilled in him almost since he could first walk. Changing those habits forced him to think more than usual. While he could not actually stumble, he did remember not to place his feet too precisely and occasionally to land on the flat of his foot after he had hopped in time to the music. Country dancing was much more energetic than the elegant minuets that started balls in society, and on the whole, Julius preferred them, but this time, no. For once he appreciated the vigorous style, as Eve’s body responded to the leaping and hopping. He had every excuse to look at her, too.

What was he becoming? The kind of bumpkin who got surreptitious thrills from watching young ladies’ bosoms bounce? Dear God, he was despicable. He had best complete his mission before he became the kind of person he ordinarily despised—the leering, laughing type who made every ball a menace to women. Except he was only interested in one woman. One he could not call his own. Yet.

She drew him, urged him to behave in deeply inappropriate ways, like kissing her the other day. Even the memory of the warmth of her lips under his threatened to overcome his resistance. For two pence—less—he’d drag her out from the room to somewhere more private and ravish her the way his body raged at him to do.

Eve Merton was dangerous. She remained totally unaware of the effect she had on the men around her. If he told her everyone in the room watched her, the way she moved and smiled, she would not believe him. At least she was aware of her own beauty, but with looks so dazzling, she would have to be foolish if she were not, and she was far from that.

When they changed partners in the dance, Julius paid strict attention to the lady he was now paired with, refusing to glance at Eve. The occasional glimpse of azure distracted him, but he would not show this new partner discourtesy or give in to temptation. Each warred with his desire to watch Eve, to keep her safe and enjoy the sight of her.

When he turned and met his next partner, he watched the onlookers. Mr. King stood by a side table, positioned so he could watch Eve, which he did with discourteous avidity. He was in conversation with a woman Julius didn’t recognize, an older lady with fine but out of date clothes, her hoop the wide oblong of ten years ago. There was nothing so derided as ten-year-old fashions.

He linked arms with lady facing him and whirled her around. She giggled. Julius could never abide gigglers, but he met plenty. Impatiently, he gritted his teeth, curving his lips in a deliberate smile of social enjoyment. She flushed and smiled back. As they turned once more, he heard, “La, sir, I declare you are the most athletic of dancers!”

Julius ground his teeth, but kept the smile. “A pleasure, madam,” he said.

He needed every bit of his social training tonight.

However, his next three partners proved more pleasant, dancing well and exchanging polite nothings as well as any society lady. The floor bowed in an alarming way in the corner of the room, but that was not the only reason he was glad to make his way back to her.

Julius and Eve finished the dance together. When they had politely applauded the musician, Julius led Eve off the floor in the direction of the open windows. Eve flicked her fan open and wafted it before her face. “Thank you, sir. You should pay some attention to Miss Simpson, you know.”

Sir Henry arrived and claimed a dance from Eve, so Julius had little choice. Good manners dictated that he spoke to Miss Simpson. Tonight, she was sulking, a pout pursing her lips. Her gown was too old for her, too low-cut, too boldly patterned and badly fitting to Julius’s critical eyes. He offered to escort her into supper rather than endure a dance with her.

The supper room was smaller than the one set aside for dancing. The dark red walls and the heavy sideboard standing along one wall gave it the appearance of being a dining room in the normal course of events. Small collapsible tables were set along the other walls and under the windows. Several people already sat at them, plates of delicacies before them.

Was he fated to escort this young woman all night? “Are your parents here? I have not yet thanked your father for his sermon on Sunday,” Julius said mendaciously. In fact the vicar had droned on about the prodigal son, making no points Julius had not heard many times before in different churches. He could, however, thank the vicar for his brevity, for the sermon had lasted barely half an hour. Before now he’d sat through two hours or more of haranguing and condemnation of worldly ways before watching the cleric waddle his way down the pulpit steps to stand before the altar. One gentleman, one he knew was a six bottle a day man, had even had the temerity to order the congregation to moderate their excesses.

At least he could leave Miss Simpson in the vicar’s care, which he did, with alacrity. At first disappointed not to see Eve there, Julius began to wonder where she could be. This house was not large, and the host must have limited reception rooms suitable for such a gathering. Where was she?

Eve had considered the ball an enjoyable affair, and her success in avoiding Sir Henry made her experience better.

Until she came face to face with the man who had made her heart beat faster. The knowledge lay in Julius’s blue eyes, his gaze devouring her in a way that sent a light shiver drifting over her skin. She lifted her fan and used the action to swallow her nervousness and speak to him like a sensible person.

But then he asked her to dance, and she felt compelled to do so. She wanted to, but she longed for so much more, enough to shame her in the midst of these people she knew so well. Surely they could see right to her soul, which was a foolish sensation, but as she went through the familiar steps, they felt strange because of the man she was dancing with. He did not stand out from any of the other participants, hopping and leaping as enthusiastically, but his movements seemed more fluid somehow. Typical she should know this as well as everything else.

One of her acquaintances, a gentleman from the next village along, winked broadly at her, and when they met for their part in the dance, murmured, “You have an admirer!”

Eve made a face at him. She’d known Ian for a good many years and they never stood on ceremony. “I have admirers. They don’t come up to scratch, and who could blame them?”

Ian sighed. “If not for Mary, I’d have married you in a heartbeat.”

Oh, yes, and Mary had brought a comfortable competence with her. But she could not blame Ian. His parents had arranged the contract, and it had turned into a love match, so she could only be glad for them. Men of any substance needed to make such alliances, not to wed someone from merely liking them.

Even Julius would disappear. For all his fervor, he was probably amusing himself with her, whiling away a tedious visit to the country with a flirtation. When the dance ended, he led her off the floor. She was forced to spread her fan once more to cover her nervous swallow. She had to get away from him, if only to control her pounding heart, so she offered to introduce him to Miss Simpson.