An Unwilling Conquest Part 28

"Oh, definitaly, my dear Mrs Babbacombe.

Definitely! "

She bestowed another arch glance on Lord Ruthyen, then turned her sights on Mr Amberly.

Lucinda didn't notice--she was trapped in Harry's green gaze. The planes of his face were hard, sculpted, his expression impa.s.sive yet growing more forbidding by the second.

She saw his eyes narrow slightly; his lips were a thin line. Breathing was suddenly very difficult. The squeak of the violins saved he~--she didn't know from what.

"Mrs Babbacombe--I declare you must, positively you must, bestow this quadrille on my poor self."

With a mental curse, Lucinda glanced to where Mr Amberly stood watching her, entreaty in his eyes. She blinked--and realized that he was begging her to rescue him. She couldn't help but smile.

She glanced up at Harry; gently she' withdrew her hand from under his. For an instant, his fingers tensed-then he released her.

"I haven't thanked you for my waltz, sir."

Lucinda lifted her eyes to his.

"It was most enjoyable."

His features were granite. He said nothing but bowed, effortlessly elegant in his severe black and white.

With an inclination of her head, Lucinda turned away and placed her hand on Mr Amberly's sleeve.

To her intense disappointment, Harry was no longer present when, at the conclusion of the quadrille, Mr Amberly returned her to the small group close by Em's chaise. Under cover of the conversation, Lucinda scanned the surrounding shoulders but could not find the ones she sought. She saw Heather, bright-eyed and clearly enjoying herself hugely. Her stepdaughter waved, then turned back to her set--Gerald Lester, the Morley sisters and two other young gentlemen. Feeling distinctly deflated, Lucinda forced herself to pay attention to her cavaliers. The circle around her, which had earlier thinned, now pressed in on her. She could understand why these events were labelled crushes. At least Mrs Burnham hadn't deserted her.

But her enjoyment in the evening had waned; it was an effort to conjure a bright smile and a witty response to the constant flow of repartee.

Somewhat later, the lilting strains of another waltz drifted from the musicians' dais at the other end of the room. Lucinda blinked. She had already danced with all those of her court, she considered reasonably safe--she hadn't antic.i.p.ated another waltz.

She glanced up--to find Lord Ruthven's eyes upon her, a curious glint in their depths.

"Well, my dear'?" he drawled.

"Which one of us will you favour with a second dance?"

Lucinda raised her brows haughtily. And scanned those she had yet 'to favour at all. Three promptly pressed their claims--one, a rakish dandy a few years older than herself but infinitely more experienced, held the greatest promise. He might have impropriety on his mind but he Was, Lucinda judged, manageable. With a serene smile, and a cool glance for Ruthven, she extended her hand.

"Mr Ellerby?"

To give him his due, Mr Ellerby behaved with all due decorum on the dance floor. By the end of the dance, Lucinda was congratulating herself, not only on her increasing confidence in the waltz itself but on her

STEPHANIE.

accurate a.s.sessment of her partner, when Mr Ellerby abruptly reverted to type.

"Quite stuffy in here, don't you find, Mrs Babbacombe?"

Lucinda glanced up and smiled.

"Indeed--one could hardly find it not.

The room is certainly very crowded. "

So crowded she could no longer see Em's chaise, concealed by the milling throng. The waltz had landed them at the other end of the room.

"This window leads to the terrace. And Lady Haverbuck's gardens are extensive. Perhaps a stroll through them would cool your cheeks, Mrs Babbacombe?"

Lucinda turned to stare at her erstwhile partner. The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Wouldn't want you to feel faint, would we?" Mr Ellerby leaned closer on the words, pressing her fingers meaningfully.

Lucinda stiffened. She drew a steady breath and opened her lips, fully intending to advise her importunate partner that her temper rarely induced faintness, when she was saved the necessity.

"I don't think Mrs Babbacombe needs a stroll on the terrace just now, Ellerby."

The drawled yet steely words sent a fris son of excitement through Lucinda; they turned Mr Ellerby sulky.

"Just a suggestion." He waved the point aside, then offered Lucinda his arm, all but glowering at Harry.

"It's suppertime, Mrs Babbacombe."

"Indeed," came from beside her.

Lucinda glanced up and saw Harry's green gaze grow coldly challenging. His fingers feathered down her arm, then fir reed about her wrist. She quelled a s.h.i.+ver. Harry looked down at her.

"If you wish, Mrs Babbacombe, I'll escort you in."

He lifted her hand and settled it on his sleeve. Lucinda met his eyes--then turned to coolly dismiss Mr Ellerby.

"Thank you for an enjoyable waltz, sir."

Mr Ellerby looked as if he wished to argue--then he met Harry's gaze.

With a grumpy air, he bowed.

"My pleasure, ma'am."

"I'm sure it was," Harry muttered beneath his breath as he turned Lucinda towards the supper room.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucinda blinked up at him. "Nothing." Harry's lips compressed.

"Couldn't you chose a more suitable partner than Ellerby? You had enough real gentlemen about you--or can't you tell the difference?"

"Of course I can." Suppressing her smile, Lucinda put her nose in the air.

"But i'd already danced with all of them. I didn't want to appear to be encouraging them." Harry resisted the urge to grind his teeth.