“I suspect he feared that if he tried, you might throw it at his head.” Jacqueline’s brow went up. “You have a way of putting out barbs when he is in the room, Bella, and truly I cannot understand why. If any man should inspire a lady’s suspicions it is Lord Bedwyr, not the comte. Why, for all that he is a naval hero and bears that dashing scar, he is the veriest puppy.”
Arabella did not believe it. He had enlisted Jacqueline’s aid so that she could not refuse his gift, and yet he had not yet told anyone the truth. He was playing a deep game, like he had played with her from the beginning, and the panic he stirred in her washed against her relentlessly.
He was not a puppy. He was a wolf.
A CENTURY EARLIER, a grand room for balls had been built onto the castle’s farthest end to reach across the river, completing the bridge from one bank to another. A corridor from within the arched colonnade led into the magnificently high-ceilinged room, a door at the opposite side letting out onto a trellised walkway into the woods.
Tonight the ballroom sparkled with hundreds of candles and the reflection of torches set in buoys upon the river glittering through the windows that stretched from sparkling parquet floor to stucco-sculpted ceiling. The prince’s musicians were adorned in blue and gold livery, playing brightly to fill the vast chamber. Footmen in the silver and black colors of the duke’s household moved through clusters of guests, offering wine.
The guests were likewise magnificent. This was his world, the men and women of his society of whom she had only ever caught glimpses while readying her students, gowned and garbed at the height of fashion and all with an air of sublime superiority. The ladies, their lips stylishly rouged and necks draped with jewels, turned long-lashed eyes upon her and lifted their fans to whisper.
Arabella held her chin high, unfurled the lacy fan Jacqueline had given her and went into the crowd.
The queen entered on Prince Reiner’s arm, with Jacqueline behind. Guests dipped into bows and deep curtsies as the royal party made its way to the dais, where the prince deposited his mother in a gilded chair. Then he took his sister’s hand, led her down the dais step, and came directly to Arabella.
Astonished gasps were audible throughout the chamber.
He released his sister and bowed deeply over Arabella’s hand. “Comtesse,” he said quietly, “I should very much like the honor of a dance with the beautiful wife of my fondest friend.”
Jacqueline gaped.
Arabella could do nothing but allow him to lead her into the set. He smiled pleasantly, and it was all as if there were nothing unusual about a prince dancing with a governess.
“You should not have done this, your highness,” she whispered when the pattern brought them close.
“I could not do otherwise. It would evidence the greatest lack of gratitude on my part to fail in soliciting your hand for the first dance. This is, after all, your house.” He smiled.
“The guests think you are dancing with a servant.”
“The guests will know differently soon enough.”
Across the glittering room Luc stood in a cluster of ladies and gentlemen. As though he felt her regard, he turned and looked at her.
The dance came to an end and the prince bowed and went off. Jacqueline glided to her side.
“Comtesse? Good heavens, Bella, what have you hidden from me and why does my brother know when I do not?”
“He must have told him.” She grasped Jacqueline’s hand. “I am sorry I did not tell you. I didn’t know—”
“Oh, none of that. We all have our secrets, after all, though admittedly yours is an enormous one. I don’t know why you and the comte are hiding this from everyone, or why you are acting as a servant when you are the mistress of this house. But—” She looked through the crowd again, this time at Luc. “I must compliment you. Your husband is very handsome.”
“I don’t know what he wants of me,” she said honestly.
The princess’s wise regard settled on her. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
He was walking toward them. Jacqueline squeezed her fingers and moved away.
Then he was before her, taking her hand and bowing over it.
“How beautiful you are this evening, duchess. As always.” He brought her hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed the center of her gloved palm. Tingles shivered over her.
She dragged her hand away. “What are you doing?”
He smiled comfortably, confidently. “Making myself immeasurably frustrated. Come with me to the terrace.”
“No. Everybody will think you are trying to seduce the governess.”
“Hang everybody. And anyway I already accomplished that weeks ago. Come with me.”
He already accomplished that. “No.”
“Your greetings still leave much to be desired.”
“I suppose I haven’t sufficient practice being fondled in public.”
“Since I prefer fondling you in private, I will allow you this point.”
“That beach was hardly private.”
“True. But my imagination has run ahead with all sorts of plans for us.”
Her hands fisted. “Why do you tease me as though there is nothing else to be said?”
“What else should be said, then? How’s this: this ball is for you.”
“For me? But you—”
“Call it an betrothal party of sorts.” He glanced about them. “Now everybody is actually staring. Apparently a man is not allowed to speak at length with a beautiful lady in a ballroom. You must dance with me to soothe their outraged sensibilities.”
“I thought you said hang everybody.”
“Dance with me, duchess.”
“You confuse me.”
“And you bedazzle me.” His gaze slipped down her neck and caressed her breasts, then continued to her hips. He was handsome beyond her dreams in a dark blue coat that made his broad shoulders seem as though he could lift his ship from the water himself, and a single large sapphire the color of the night lodged in his neck cloth. A pristine black silk band covered his eye and even the scar seemed dashingly elegant. If she were a woman to have her heart stolen by a man’s consequence and beauty alone, she would be lost. But she had no heart to be stolen; she was safe.
“You must dance with me,” he said. “I will not accept refusal.”
“You enjoy having the upper hand.”
“Rather, I enjoy having my hands on you. It puts me in mind of that brief but memorable sojourn on the beach. Before the unfortunate incident with the knife, of course.” He smiled.
Her cheeks were hot. “I have heard you talking with the ladies-in-waiting. You do not speak to all women in this frank manner.”
“No. Only my wives, and among them only those who refuse my request for a dance.” He moved a half step closer and looked down at her. “Will you dance with me, Arabella?”
He had not spoken her name before. He seemed to caress it.
“I—I—” He tangled her thoughts and intentions. She knew he did it intentionally. “For three days you have not tried to speak with me alone, yet now you tease me as you did aboard your ship, as though nothing has happened in the meantime.”
“For three days of agony I have held myself aloof from you to allow you to become accustomed to the truth in your own time. Clearly that was the wrong tactic.” He glanced at the tiara tucked in her hair.
“Only a man of poor character would seek to cajole a woman with extravagant gifts.”
“You are no doubt correct,” he said. “Dance with me anyway.”
She could not resist him. She nodded.
Lord of the manor, he merely lifted a hand, and far across the chamber the orchestra commenced the new set. Then he took her fingers in his. His hand slipped around her waist and then up to the back of her ribs, unnecessarily caressing, but she accepted it. She lifted her hand to lay it upon his arm and he drew her into the waltz.
“Haven’t tried this since that reprobate put out my eye,” he said quietly, a smile in his voice. “I beg your pardon in advance for stepping on your toes.”