those women. A frown settled over Lord Ottwell's brow as he fought for a suitable reply.
Just then, she sensed someone approach from behind her. The delicate hairs on the base of her neck came to attention, heightened awareness prickling through her only seconds before a familiar velvety voice slid past her ears like a caress.
"Good evening, Mrs. Smythe. What a pleasure to find you here tonight."
A shiver that began at the base of her spine rippled outward, spreading all the way to the ends of her fingers and the tips of her toes. Slowly, she turned and gazed upward into Ethan Andarton's penetrating amber eyes.
Her breath caught at the sight of him, looking resplendent in a traditional black tailcoat and breeches, white shirt and waistcoat, his attire as impeccable as that of Beau Brummell in his prime. His starched linen cravat rivaled Beau's as well, the knot—tied in a precise
Tr�ne d'Amour
—emphasizing the strong, square line of his jaw and setting off the golden brilliance of his neatly trimmed hair.
So, he has found me,
she sighed, unable to decide whether to be vexed or glad.
"My lord," she replied with a curtsey. "How do you do this evening?"
"Very well, thank you." He paused, then tossed the other man a nod as if he had only just noticed him. "Ottwell."
"Vessey."
"What is this about horses, then?" the marquis asked, obviously having overheard the thread of their earlier conversation.
Lily straightened her shoulders. "I was just telling Lord Ottwell that I wish to learn to drive, and he was about to tell me whether or not he would consent to give me lessons."
Beside her, Ottwell made an odd humming noise in the base of his throat as though he were preparing to issue a refusal, but a moment later he surprised her. "Why, it would be my great honor to instruct you on how to manage the ribbons, ma'am. We must be sure to set a date."
"Splendid, my lord," she said, bestowing a smile upon him that left the man blinking as if he'd stared directly into a noonday sun.
Vessey arched a brow, one corner of his mouth turning upward in a knowing way.
Lily ignored the look. "Lord Ottwell has also agreed to teach me to waltz this evening. I am quite looking forward to our dance."
She didn't know what prompted her to make such a bold declaration, other than the fact that Lord Vessey seemed to bring out the imp in her. Instead, she knew she ought to be looking for ways to extract herself from his presence. Yet like all forbidden fruit, he was a temptation not easily denied.
"In that case, you must allow me the pleasure of claiming the second waltz of the night," he said.
Knowing herself caught in a trap of her own design, she inclined her head. "As you will, my lord. The second waltz is yours."
"We shall wait until later to see what else may yet become mine."
She quivered, readily sensing the underlying sensual implications of his remark. She only hoped Lord Ottwell didn't realize them as well.
Moments later, a quartet of musicians assembled on one side of the room and played a few notes to signal to the guests that they should take their places for the opening dance. To Lily's relief, she realized it was the waltz.
"Ma'am," Lord Ottwell said, extending his arm.
"If you will excuse us, Lord Vessey," she said, "the dancing is about to begin."
The marquis bowed and stepped aside to let them pass.
Strolling onto the dance floor, Lily restrained the urge to glance back to see if Vessey was still watching. But a full minute later as she waited for the first strains of music to begin, she gave in and turned her head to check—and discovered he was no longer there.
Her shoulders drooped.
He's probably gone in search of a dance partner of his own,
she mused.
Just as he should. Well, no matter,
she told herself.
I am far better off without the constant attentions of Lord Vessey.
So why am I disappointed?
Calling herself ridiculous to the utmost degree, she pasted a cheerful smile on her face and let her partner
Just then, she sensed someone approach from behind her. The delicate hairs on the base of her neck came to attention, heightened awareness prickling through her only seconds before a familiar velvety voice slid past her ears like a caress.
"Good evening, Mrs. Smythe. What a pleasure to find you here tonight."
A shiver that began at the base of her spine rippled outward, spreading all the way to the ends of her fingers and the tips of her toes. Slowly, she turned and gazed upward into Ethan Andarton's penetrating amber eyes.
Her breath caught at the sight of him, looking resplendent in a traditional black tailcoat and breeches, white shirt and waistcoat, his attire as impeccable as that of Beau Brummell in his prime. His starched linen cravat rivaled Beau's as well, the knot—tied in a precise
Tr�ne d'Amour
—emphasizing the strong, square line of his jaw and setting off the golden brilliance of his neatly trimmed hair.
So, he has found me,
she sighed, unable to decide whether to be vexed or glad.
"My lord," she replied with a curtsey. "How do you do this evening?"
"Very well, thank you." He paused, then tossed the other man a nod as if he had only just noticed him. "Ottwell."
"Vessey."
"What is this about horses, then?" the marquis asked, obviously having overheard the thread of their earlier conversation.
Lily straightened her shoulders. "I was just telling Lord Ottwell that I wish to learn to drive, and he was about to tell me whether or not he would consent to give me lessons."
Beside her, Ottwell made an odd humming noise in the base of his throat as though he were preparing to issue a refusal, but a moment later he surprised her. "Why, it would be my great honor to instruct you on how to manage the ribbons, ma'am. We must be sure to set a date."
"Splendid, my lord," she said, bestowing a smile upon him that left the man blinking as if he'd stared directly into a noonday sun.
Vessey arched a brow, one corner of his mouth turning upward in a knowing way.
Lily ignored the look. "Lord Ottwell has also agreed to teach me to waltz this evening. I am quite looking forward to our dance."
She didn't know what prompted her to make such a bold declaration, other than the fact that Lord Vessey seemed to bring out the imp in her. Instead, she knew she ought to be looking for ways to extract herself from his presence. Yet like all forbidden fruit, he was a temptation not easily denied.
"In that case, you must allow me the pleasure of claiming the second waltz of the night," he said.
Knowing herself caught in a trap of her own design, she inclined her head. "As you will, my lord. The second waltz is yours."
"We shall wait until later to see what else may yet become mine."
She quivered, readily sensing the underlying sensual implications of his remark. She only hoped Lord Ottwell didn't realize them as well.
Moments later, a quartet of musicians assembled on one side of the room and played a few notes to signal to the guests that they should take their places for the opening dance. To Lily's relief, she realized it was the waltz.
"Ma'am," Lord Ottwell said, extending his arm.
"If you will excuse us, Lord Vessey," she said, "the dancing is about to begin."
The marquis bowed and stepped aside to let them pass.
Strolling onto the dance floor, Lily restrained the urge to glance back to see if Vessey was still watching. But a full minute later as she waited for the first strains of music to begin, she gave in and turned her head to check—and discovered he was no longer there.
Her shoulders drooped.
He's probably gone in search of a dance partner of his own,
she mused.
Just as he should. Well, no matter,
she told herself.
I am far better off without the constant attentions of Lord Vessey.
So why am I disappointed?
Calling herself ridiculous to the utmost degree, she pasted a cheerful smile on her face and let her partner
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