At first, it seemed as though she would protest again, but then she pursed her lips and allowed herself the faintest trace of conceit. “It was rather well done of me.”
He laughed. God, he found her more and more delightful, as unexpected as a butterfly amongst moths. “If you have given me the ailment of respectability, it’s only fair that I corrupt you.”
They gazed at each other. With her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, she looked like a woman eager for ravishment. He quickly assessed the chamber. There was a folding screen in one corner. He could draw her behind the screen, kiss her again, and see if this morning’s heat was atypical, or something he could coax forth once more.
He liked knowing things. Futures, investments, strategies. But nothing seemed more worth knowing than whether or not he could kiss his wife breathless with desire.
Something in his eyes must have given him away, for her smile faded and a look of anxious expectancy crossed her face.
Yes, he’d lead her away now—
A familiar voice said his name. “Leo, what the devil are you doing here?”
He smothered a curse and turned to find John staring at him in utter astonishment.
“Conducting the world’s most discreet robbery,” Leo answered.
“Mrs. Bailey.” John offered Anne a bow, and she curtsied in return. He glanced at the guests within the chamber. “This circle is a good deal more sober than your normal company.”
“Spoken as a constituent of my normal company.”
“Are you so scandalous, then?” asked Anne.
Before John could answer, Leo said to him, “You never mentioned associating with this crowd.”
John narrowed his eyes. “I have interests beyond your understanding of me. Lord Overbury hosts some of the most influential figures in the government.”
Thus, John’s presence. It made sense, yet Leo knew his friend better from late-night horse races and houses of pleasure than electoral races and Houses of Parliament.
“Please pardon me, gentlemen.” Anne disengaged her hand from his arm, and he felt a strange compulsion to snatch it back again.
“Are you well?” he asked. Though she had insisted that she had recovered from whatever mysterious ailment had troubled her earlier, he didn’t want to risk a relapse.
“Yes, yes certainly. I just need to ...” She glanced toward the corridor, which led to the ladies’ retiring room.
Within the chamber they now stood, servants were removing furniture and rolling up rugs in preparation for dancing. Anne saw this, and said, “Perhaps when I return, we might dance.”
“I don’t know the steps,” Leo said.
“I could teach you.”
“Many things I’m willing to try, but I’d sooner kiss John than learn to dance in public.”
“Flattering,” drawled John.
Yet Anne looked disappointed. Clearly, the girl who had hesitantly danced at their wedding celebration had transformed into a woman more comfortable in herself. Leo felt his own stab of remorse. He wanted to please her.
“John, you had a dancing master.”
Seeing the direction Leo was heading, John spread his hands. “Monsieur Desceliers never had a less apt pupil than I. It is rumored that, in despair, he fled back to the Continent and became a rat catcher. Or a drunkard. Or both.”
“I do not want to cause mass drunkenness,” said Anne. “Nor would I appreciate the spectacle of my husband kissing anyone but me.” She blushed, but did not lower her gaze. “We shall save the dancing for another occasion. Pardon me, gentlemen.”
Both Leo and John bowed as she took her leave. Leo watched her as she circled the room, noticing how she kept her chin tilted up, her tread confident. When they had come in, less than an hour earlier, she had kept her chin tucked low, and her step had hesitated. She grew before his very eyes, as if he could somehow watch a rose unfurl its petals within the span of a moment.
“Oh, for the love of sin,” muttered John.
Leo tore his gaze away as Anne left the chamber. “The hell are you going on about?”
“You’ll be as bad as Edmund soon.” John batted his eyes.
Leo scowled. “Edmund is besotted.”
To which John only gave him a very droll look.
To which Leo gave John a very rude hand gesture.
John smirked, but his humor did not last. In the glare of candlelight, his long, thin face and deeply set eyes looked almost macabre. “How fared you the rest of the day? Did you accomplish what you needed to do?”
Sobering, Leo answered, “Whit won’t be received at any of the gaming clubs. Not White’s, nor Boodle’s, nor the others. It took just a handful of suggestions that he played dishonestly, a few fraudulent written testimonials, and a promise to make several valuable investments on behalf of the club managers.”
John nodded, pleased. “I went to several of the taverns and coffee houses he frequented. Did much the same.” His smile widened. “Reading minds gives one tremendous insight. It makes it so much easier to say to exactly what one needs in order to render a particular result.”
“What am I thinking now?” John’s a scary bastard.
His friend glowered. “You know I cannot read the thoughts of the Hellraisers. One of my gift’s limitations. Further,” he added, “you were probably thinking something boorish about me. The gift’s other limitation is that I cannot read thoughts if they are about me.”
“Seems our mutual friend Mr. Holliday gave us all slightly flawed gifts,” Leo murmured.
“Of course he did. Only an idiot would bestow unlimited power on someone.”
“And Mr. Holliday is certainly not an idiot.”
“He chose us as the recipients of his gifts, did he not?” John grinned. “Clearly, he possesses superior intelligence.”
The dancers gathered in the middle of the chamber, forming rows for a set. They looked like troops assembling for war, troops clad in silk, armed with cutting glances instead of sabers.
Leo’s attention wavered as he saw Anne reenter the chamber. Her gown was not the brightest in the room, nor did she wear the most jewels, and there were other women who might be called more beautiful, but when she paused at the entrance of the room, he could not look anywhere but at her. Just as her gaze automatically found him. Warmth spread through him when she smiled in response.
And he was not alone in his attention. She drew the gazes of many at the assembly, especially the younger men. One of the bucks approached her, hand out. Asking for a dance. Anne immediately looked to Leo—seeking permission.
Leo’s first instinct was to cross the room and plant his fist in the bloke’s face. He already felt his hand curl in preparation.
But this was not the street. Nor even the pugilism academy. A punch laying the gent out might satisfy Leo, but damn it, he had to at least pretend to be civilized.
More to the point, Anne wanted to dance. The buck with the padded calves offered to dance with her, when Leo could not.
His neck felt stiff as whalebone as he nodded, the barest inclination of his head, granting her leave to accept the offer.
She looked momentarily surprised, then took the gent’s hand. Leo ground his teeth together as she and her partner took the floor. They faced each other. The air began, and Anne curtsied as her partner bowed. Leo did not miss the way the gent’s eyes strayed to the soft shapes of Anne’s silken breasts above the neckline of her gown. He calculated interest rates to keep himself from tackling the bloke.
“Christ,” muttered John. “You haven’t heard a sodding word I’ve spoken.”
“Something about Whitehall, something concerning Bram and Edmund.” Yet Leo continued to watch Anne as the dance began, and the dancers moved in their intricate patterns.