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He had but a few moments, one brief whirl, before the dance dictated he release her.
When they returned to their places in the line, he watched other couples make the same foray into the middle he and Lilli had. He glanced surreptitiously at his partner. She didn’t clap, didn’t smile. But her little white-slippered foot tapped the floor in rhythm to the music.
Heartened, he smiled. She looked away, her strained posture and tense shoulders reasserting themselves.
The order of dance returned to them, dictating he take her hands and lead her in a dash between the rows. This time, as he took her hands, he gently squeezed.
She tore herself from his grip the moment the figure allowed. He only smiled in return.
When next the dance decreed they join hands, Drex found balled little fists in his palms and a determined glare on Lilli’s face.
“You’re too lovely to scowl,” he whispered above the music.
“I am not interested in your flattery.”
He shrugged as they stepped away, then leaned close. “A pity, since I’ve no desire to turn my attention elsewhere.”
They danced apart before Lilli could retort.
The music ended. Drex offered Lilli his arm for escort back to her grandmother. He walked her slowly about the room, standing a hint closer than propriety exactly allowed.
“What is it you seek?” she whispered hotly.
He paused. She was hardly in the mood to talk marriage. “Another dance?”
“Certainly not! You are an audacious cur—”
“Yes.” He cocked his head to one side. “And people will talk, no matter how properly either of us behaves. Still, if you wish to decline—”
“I do.” She snatched her hand off his sleeve. “Leave me.”
Drex paused before the wall from which he had escorted her. Lilli’s grandmother still stood to one side, speaking with another group of older ladies.
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“Then I shall settle for a smile,” he murmured.
She ignored his request with a dismissive sideways glare.
“No?” he questioned. “Then, rest assured, I will collect my smile tomorrow.”
With a simple nod, he turned about and left the ball, knowing she stared after him.
* * *
The following afternoon, Christina sat beside her grandmother as she received callers. Most were her friends, and Christina had known the older women all her life. By their demeanors, she knew they merely tolerated her soiled presence for her grandmother’s sake.
She had not one caller of her own, save a pair of unsavory fortune hunters she’d danced with last night. Grandmother had dismissed the two rapscallions in her own subtle but final way, which satisfied Christina. Her only other dance partner, Viscount Drakethorne, had not come. She was pleased, regardless of the irritating twinge of disappointment tugging at her.
Toying with the tips of her gloves, she smiled politely at something Lady Jersey said. Unbidden, her thoughts turned back to the previous night, to Drexell Cain-Ashmont.
He was arrogant and handsome, more so than the average London bachelor. And he’d been bent on charming her into a flirtation.
He was dangerous to her peace of mind.
She’d felt a frightening jolt, a hot spark, run the length of her body when their eyes first met. To deny that he disturbed her as a man, with his candid but urbane brand of charm, would be an utter lie. And if she could help it, she would avoid him, especially since he reminded her of the Bla—
“Christina, haven’t you heard me, dear? You have a visitor,” said her grandmother.
She plucked herself from her reverie and glanced up to find the very object of her thoughts entering the drawing room. He nodded politely to one starchy matron, flattered a lonely widow, endured an introduction of a countess’s
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horse-faced daughter, then complimented her grandmother for her exquisite taste in furnishings. The man oozed charm.
To her distress, he picked his way across the room, murmuring here and there until he reached her side. By happenstance, or her grandmother’s machinations, a seat on the sofa beside her chair became vacant. Predictably, he took it with a wry smile.
He lifted her fingers from the chair’s arm and brought her hand to his mouth, his lips lingering longer than proper.
“Lady Christina.” He inclined his head.
A spark wound down her spine. The tenor of his voice, even his dark eyes, seemed chillingly like the Black Dragon’s. Yet this man had no overlong hair, no earring, no beard, no bronzed skin. He wore only the finest garments. The voice and mannerisms were different. A few similarities couldn’t signify. The two men were worlds apart.
This man, though every bit as handsome as the Black Dragon, possessed charm with his looks. She would have to be on guard.
“Lord Drakethorne,” she replied.
“I do hope you’re not suffering sore toes and dirty slippers from my neophyte attempts at dancing.”
“My toes and slippers remain unscathed, my lord,” she answered, conscious of her heart’s faster beating. Reminding herself that men did not affect her, she drew in a deep breath.
“Then I may sleep well now, knowing I have learned the rudiments of all the polite dances, unless the waltz comes to England.”
“Too shocking, according to most.”
He smiled and leaned closer. “Tell me one woman here who doesn’t like to be shocked every now and again.”
“Lord Drakethorne!”
“Not that any would admit to such scandal,” he hurried to add. “Still, who doesn’t long for excitement in their life?”
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Christina’s palms turned damp beneath her gloves. She secretly yearned for the carefree excitement of her days aboard The Dragon’s Lair, even while she despised its captain.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know about such a thing.”
He shot her a sideways smile, eyes dancing beneath a roguish shag of dark hair. “Come now, I knew the instant I set eyes upon you that you were hardly of the same mealy-mouthed variety as the other London misses.”
More likely he’d been listening to rumors. Stiffening, Christina assured, “I strive to behave with complete propriety.”
“Are you not bored doing so?”
How did he know her so well? Though she had vowed since her return to behave with perfect decorum, and had so far, she could not deny that reckless streak within her wanted more. Such dangerous thoughts could only lead to further scandal and heartbreak. She pushed them aside.
“The season exists to conduct politics and make marriages. Many in the ton find such doings exciting in themselves.”
“I asked about you. What do you find exciting?”
Heart pounding, Christina glanced up to find Lady Jersey hanging on their every word. To her left, Grandmother was doing a good imitation of listening to her guests, but Christina knew the woman’s attention had strayed.
“I’m sure I have no notion what you mean.”
He leaned closer still. His fingers brushed her own in what appeared to be an accidental sweep. Christina knew better. Tingles plagued her body, feelings she remembered all too well from her summer’s escapade in the Caribbean.
“I think you’ve given the notion much thought. Is it shopping or tea with the ladies you find exciting? Perhaps it’s a good book or two.”
He paused to stroke his square, clean-shaven chin. She watched his fingers with unbidden interest.
“Or do you enjoy being courted?” he whispered.
She clenched her hands in her lap. Had someone asked her two days ago if she found a man’s company exciting, her answer would have been no. Today
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she could only lament that she found Drexell Cain-Ashmont’s unwelcome presence stimulating.