The subject was dropped when Lord Allingham returned, bringing with him a footman who carried not one, but three glasses of lemonade on a salver, which his lordship presented to Audrey, Isabella and Lady Allingham with a bow.
‘Very nice,’ Isabella said appreciatively as she took a sip. It was really quite warm in the ballroom, the press of bodies exacerbating the summer heat. Many ladies were employing their fans to cool their flushed skin. ‘What charming manners you have, my dear Lord Allingham.’
‘I am humbled that you think so, Mrs. Carstairs,’ he returned gravely. ‘Your good opinion is something I treasure.’
Isabella dimpled at this. ‘Is it indeed? And why is that, do you suppose? Is it because you are trying very hard to make a good impression?’
These questions had the effect of throwing poor Allingham into some confusion and Audrey patted his arm soothingly. ‘Pay her no mind, Sir. She is forever teasing. Indeed, I am afraid my sister has not a very serious outlook on life. It has been a great trial to us all, I can assure you.’
‘Has it indeed?’ Isabella returned, but without rancor. ‘Well you can rest assured that my sister is very serious. One only has to hear her on the subject of Lord Byron or any of the romantic poets to know that she has a very philosophical outlook on life.’
Audrey gave her sister a quelling look. ‘I have read the romantics,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘Don’t you recall how you pressed me to do so and offered me your own copies of Lord Byron’s works?’
Lord Allingham smiled at the pair and opened his mouth to reply but nothing emerged from his mouth. Indeed, his entire expression changed and he suddenly seemed to go very still. They watched the smile disappear off his face, to be replaced by an expression of angry disbelief. He had been looking towards Isabella but his eyes had gone past her to focus on something – or somebody – behind her. So extraordinary was that glance that all three ladies turned to look in the same direction and saw a tall, rather rakish figure strolling towards them. He was dressed in immaculate evening clothes that sat very well on his long, lean frame but there was something in the loose-limbed way he carried himself that suggested that the man was not the usual domestic animal to be found among the glittering crowds of Almack’s. Indeed, Audrey was reminded of a large feline, the kind that stalked through the veldt as it hunted its prey with ruthless determination and she shivered a little. The newcomer was dark, a little saturnine in fact, and as he drew nearer she saw that there was a twist to that well cut, full-lipped mouth that suggested that he thought very little of his surroundings.
Extraordinarily, considering none of the ladies present knew him, he came to a stop several feet away and made the group a mocking little bow.
‘Kirkwood,’ Lord Allingham muttered, causing all three of the ladies to turn their attention back to him. ‘What the… what are you doing here? I didn’t even know you were back in England.’
The man raised a long eyebrow. ‘Really, Roddy? I would have assumed you would have been expecting me. You’ve turned three and twenty, after all.’
His lordship flushed a little. ‘I was not… that is to say -’ the earl broke off, apparently remembering that he was the focus of three pairs of interested eyes. He turned and looked at Audrey, obviously trying to master himself and his obvious shock at seeing the new arrival. He managed a smile. ‘Forgive me, Miss Hathaway. I must excuse myself.’
‘Oh now,’ the man drawled, his heavily lidded black eyes sliding appreciatively over Isabella and Audrey in turn. There was an inappropriate amount of interest in that look that he didn’t even begin to disguise. ‘I did not mean to interrupt your party. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’
‘No,’ Lord Allingham said from between what sounded like tightly clenched teeth. ‘I am not. If you will excuse us, ladies -’
‘I am Kirkwood, Lord Allingham’s brother,’ the gentleman continued on, ignoring the earl entirely. ‘May I have the pleasure of an introduction?’
Audrey blinked, taken aback. So this was the wicked brother, the man who had been in charge of the Allingham fortune. He certainly did not resemble his sibling in any way. On the contrary, he looked decidedly exotic. The man standing before them did not look like a younger brother, either. Audrey would have put him in his late twenties, surely a few years older than Lord Allingham himself who, as had just been mentioned, had turned three and twenty only the week before.
Perhaps he is the black sheep, she reflected, eyeing him with interested curiosity, aged by dissolution. He certainly looked like he knew a thing or two about sin. The announcement of his identity had left an unpleasant little void behind it. Not unexpectedly, Lady Hathaway stepped in to fill the awkward silence when it seemed that Lord Allingham had been overcome with a sudden paralysis.
‘How do you do, Mr. Kirkwood. I am Lady Hathaway. Please allow me to introduce you to my daughters; Mrs. Carstairs and Miss Hathaway.’
Both Isabella and Audrey gave him a curtsey. He offered a bow to each in turn and Audrey found herself once again being scrutinized far more closely than must be considered proper. By now she was used to seeing interest in the eyes of other men but the expression that glowed in Mr. Kirkwood’s dark eyes was a great deal less respectable than she was used to. He was a great deal less respectable, she amended silently and she unconsciously raised her chin and gave him a cool look in return. Obviously he had not inherited his brother’s affability or delightful manners. On the contrary, the reprobate before them seemed to embody the kind of man one’s anxious parents specifically warned a girl to stay away from.
‘Miss Hathaway. Do you know, I believe I have heard your name only recently in connection with my brother.’
‘Indeed, Sir?’ Audrey replied warily. She did not quite trust this man to behave as he ought and from the restless way Lord Allingham stirred, neither did he. It was nothing more than instinct, but there was something about Mr. Kirkwood that told her he was a man used to pleasing himself, not Society.
‘Oh, it was very complimentary,’ he assured her softly, his eyes lingering on her mouth. ‘People do tend to exaggerate, do they not? But in this instance I can see they had the right of it. You are very fine.’
Audrey looked at him, disconcerted by such directness. It was a very odd sort of compliment, uttered as it was in such a considered way. His apparent interest in her mouth made her feel uncomfortable, as if he were examining it with a view to doing something improper. Indeed, his very presence was making her acutely self-consciousness and – rather alarmingly – she was struck by a sudden awareness of him as a man, the kind of man who would take a woman into his arms and kiss her very thoroughly, quite likely to the satisfaction of everyone involved. It was such an unexpected, ridiculous thought that she did not react but merely stared at him, too rattled to make a sensible response, had she been able to come up with one. A reaction was not necessary, however for Allingham had clearly had enough of his brother’s intrusion. He stepped forward, taking Kirkwood firmly by the arm.
‘I will thank you to come with me now!’
For a long moment Mr. Kirkwood continued to stare at Audrey, before he turned his gaze to the hand that was resting on his arm. ‘As I came here specifically to speak with you, I hardly think a display of manly aggression is necessary, do you? Unless we’re proving something to the ladies? No? Then kindly take your hand off my arm, brother.’
Rather surprisingly, the earl released the man hastily, as if the fabric of Kirkwood’s evening coat burned. A flush suffused his skin but he maintained his composure. ‘You know we cannot talk here,’ he said shortly.