Page 23 of Enticing the Devil
It was clear his answer didn’t particularly please her, but she didn’t try to argue or persuade. Instead, she gave a soft little sigh and glanced to the side. It was then that he realized they were now quite alone in the conservatory. Not even a footman had remained behind.
Every muscle in his body tightened. At the same time, she brought her gaze suddenly back to meet his. Though not currently swirling with quiet intensity, there was still a surprising depth in her eyes. Like a mystical, never-ending pool.
And he found himself holding his breath. It would be frighteningly easy to drown in those eyes.
“I suppose I shall see you at dinner then, Mr. Thomas.”
Not knowing what else to do, he nodded then watched as she turned and glided gracefully from the room.
He muttered a curse.
Though there had been many times since he’d first met his brothers and sister that he’d experienced a sense of being totally out of his element, especially in the months since he’d been officially introduced to London society, he’d never felt so at a loss as he did whenever Lady Anne walked away from him.
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THAT NIGHT, THE DRAWING room was filled with fragrant and colorful bouquets, providing an opportunity for the guests to admire and assess the creations prior to the announcement of the winners.
Though he tried not to pay undue attention to the twitters and speculation the other guests engaged in as they passed by Lady Anne’s arrangement, Beynon couldn’t fully ignore the occasional sly glances cast in his direction. No doubt everyone found his lack of sophistication in choosing flowers so obviously out of fashion very amusing, but he refused to feel shame for it. Such a skill had no purpose in his life.
Directing his attention away from the floral display, he crossed the room to where Roderick stood with Emma beside Lord and Lady Harte.
Beynon only had a moment to mutter good evening before a bit of a commotion drew everyone’s attention toward the main doors.
Lady Harte gave a little laugh she quickly hid behind her glove as Emma murmured, “We should have known she’d made a theatrical entrance.”
Beynon turned to see the Countess of Chelmsworth—an elderly Frenchwoman who preferred her hair ink black and her lips ruby red—sweep into the room wearing an emerald-green gown with a skirt displaying a veritable garden of embroidered posies. Caillie walked beside her, also dressed in a floral-themed frock of pink and green, carrying a pink silk pillow on which nestled a crown of white lilies.
Roderick gave Beynon a nudge with his elbow. “I think our little sister has a true flair for the dramatic, don’t you?”
“I wonder where she gets that from,” Beynon noted dryly as he gave a pointed look at his brother’s waistcoat.
For the most part, Roderick’s style was fashionably understated by London standards—with one significant exception. No matter what the event or time of day, he never failed to sport a waistcoat in some dramatic color. Tonight, it was a leafy green brocade.
As his brother chuckled, Lady Chelmsworth, who insisted everyone call her Angelique, paused in the center of the room. Though quite elderly, the lady had a very commanding presence and a style all her own. Emma and Roderick had once discussed how Angelique often told tales of her life prior to her marriage to the Earl of Chelmsworth. Tales that—if all were to be believed—suggested she had lived a very colorful existence.
“’Ello, ’ello, everyone,” she began in a voice that carried her accented words surprisingly well throughout the murmuring crowd. “Though it was a very difficult decision requiring consideration of a great many factors, I have chosen zee three winners.”
Not particularly interested in which bouquets were deemed the best, Beynon allowed his attention to drift toward Lady Anne. He wasn’t at all sure why he’d developed the annoying tendency to seek the woman out whenever his attention wasn’t otherwise occupied, but he wasn’t particularly inclined to resist it either.
As always, she sat with perfect posture. Her slim shoulders, partially bared by the wide neckline of her gown, were straight and proud though she held her head with a slight bow that gave a graceful arc to her neck. Her hands rested gently in her lap and her expression was one of unstudied poise as she gave her full attention to the announcement of winners.
But even from his angle and distance, he was able to detect something slightly discordant in her manner. There was nothing specific in her appearance that was incongruent. It was really just a feeling. An internal sense that her outward demeanor was just a bit forced.
He scowled. He was being ridiculous.
Then, just as he was about to look away, Lady Anne suddenly stiffened. Her eyes widened and her gaze flickered very briefly in his direction. The glance was so quick, he would never have noticed it if he hadn’t been staring so intently. And though she immediately turned her attention back to Angelique, her fingers were now interwoven and clasped tightly together.
It was then that he heard the ripple of laughter chasing through the room followed by more surreptitious glances in his direction.
“What in hell?”
Beside him, Roderick to give a low chuckle. “Congratulations.”
“For what?”
Roderick lifted a brow. “Weren’t you listening?”
“Just tell me,” Beynon growled as the looks and whispers continued. A quick peek toward Lady Anne revealed a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she spoke quietly with the ladies seated beside her.