Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring by Ella J. Quince Page A

would be any way out of this that wouldn’t cause a bloody mess, either emotionally or publicly.
    He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, but he began to hear the strains of music once more, and his neck was stiff. He stood drearily and prepared to commence his watch over Heather. It was quite possibly all he would ever have of her again. He returned to his perch, his expression brooding, his eyes red from strain. He looked down on the guests with a bitter smirk. He wasn’t good enough to be among them, his birth being of lower status in their eyes, but that hadn’t stopped Heather, the only jewel among them, from seeing him, from wanting him the way he wanted her. That made him feel like a king.
    His breath caught when he saw her again. Lord Rigsby was escorting her to the dance floor. Rigsby was safe, Rigsby was a good chap. Heather floated through the steps of the cotillion like a butterfly moving from flower to flower. Fallon took great enjoyment in watching her from the shadow of a pillar, hidden mostly from view unless one cared to look diligently. He watched her entire set with Rigsby and then she moved on to her circle of friends. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, her smile light. He was glad she was enjoying herself despite everything. A new set would soon begin. He watched her sip greedily from a glass of lemonade and smiled. The smile turned to a snarl as a gentleman took her glass and pressed a flute of champagne into her hand. She reluctantly took it, and the gentleman turned enough so Fallon could identify his profile. Lord Draven. What the devil was that bounder up to? He could tell by Heather’s rigid posture that she was not pleased by his presence.
    Fallon cursed. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do. A new dance set was beginning, and by the looks of it, Heather was partnered with Draven. Fallon cursed again and gripped the railing with white knuckles. It was innocent enough. Draven led her to the floor quite properly, smiling arrogantly—in Fallon’s opinion, and amused with the sound of his own voice. Fallon gritted his teeth as it became apparent that this dance was to be a waltz. The dancers took their places and then began to move with the music. Fallon pushed away from the bannister in agitation. He considered returning to the Study, or even his room to get drunk, but the drive to watch over her was too strong.
    *
    Heather smiled as politely as she could as Lord Draven made an attempt at conversation. She was grateful he was a very good dancer, but that was the only kind thought she had about him. He dispensed with the pleasantries effortlessly, and then his gaze sharpened as it focused on her.
    “Miss Everly, how do you find his graces’ steward?”
    Heather gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to talk about Fallon, not with him, not with anyone. She took a moment to collect herself. “I’ve little experience judging the capabilities of stewards, Lord Draven. I suppose he is competent.”
    Heather noticed his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit, almost as if he were trying to see through her words. Her pulse began to beat quick and heavily through her temples. It was a nauseating feeling.
    “Competent, you say?” He tilted his head to the side. “You are aware that if you marry the duke, he will be an employee of yours as well as the dukes. Do you plan to keep him on?”
    “I don’t see why I wouldn’t. I have found no fault with his doings. It would be entirely up to the duke.”
    “Are you saying you would tell the duke about your association with Mr. Calder? I commend your honesty, Miss Everly, though it does not seem wise.”
    Heather’s heart skipped a beat. She would have stumbled, but Lord Draven turned her smartly and they carried on without misstep.
    “I beg your pardon?” Heather asked breathlessly.
    “Don’t be daft. You know of what I speak, and I should warn you that if I have noticed, others most certainly have. So what will you do? It will titillate the