Chapter 9 #2
She gave the same answer she gave most people who asked. “We thought that Maman might benefit from the springs at Bath. And she has. Besides, France is rather unsettled at present.”
“To say the least,” Sir Percy said.
“What about you?” Giselle asked. “Have you been in Northumberland all this time?”
“Primarily. I make occasional trips to other parts of north England but didn’t come to London until recently. You see, I . . . er . . . mean to run for office.”
Heath blinked at him. “What office?”
“Member of Parliament in the House of Commons. My father was in the Commons, you know, and I never saw the benefit of it, but now that I’m older I should like to explore it.”
“I’m not sure I even like being in the House of Lords,” Heath said. “But if that’s what you want, I wish you good luck with it.”
“Thank you.”
“Getting back to our escape,” Heath said, “I did mean to ask, did you happen to overhear anything the gendarmes said about us or our escape plans? Could they have known even then what we were about to do?”
“Not the two I was with.” Sir Percy mused a moment. “Or if they did, they certainly didn’t let on.”
“Did you ever notice anyone hanging about listening to our conversations?” Heath persisted. “Or hear anyone gossiping about our plans?”
“Not really.” He frowned. “There were people who had a habit of lounging about at the lodging house. That subordinate of Scovell’s, Lieutenant Jason Davis, had a habit of nosing around and never minding his own business.”
Then he shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t have betrayed any of you. He was quite the toady, always trying to get on Scovell’s good side. I doubt he would risk Scovell’s ire to do such a thing.”
Heath rubbed his chin. “He might if he resented not being included in the escape plan.”
“Hmm,” Sir Percy said, and exchanged a glance with Giselle. “That’s a good point.”
Sir Percy downed the rest of his glass of champagne and went to work on a second one, looking deep in thought. “What about the fellow who supplied our fake passports? Have you looked into him?”
When Giselle stiffened in alarm, Heath took her hand and squeezed. “Jon never told us who he was, so no. But Jon also said he can’t be the one.”
Why was Heath lying about it? He knew perfectly well who had done their passports. Or was he refusing to mention Mr. Beasley for fear Sir Percy might accidentally tell someone and get her and Maman in trouble? If so, that was very sweet of him.
Sir Percy nodded. “I’m sure Jon would know whether to trust the fellow.”
“And I trust Jon,” Heath said.
Heath still had hold of her hand, which he was idly stroking as he talked. Was he aware of it? She certainly was. They had both removed their gloves to eat, so now their hands were skin to skin. Her heart raced madly, a counterpoint to the slow dance of his fingers intimately caressing hers.
“Have you looked into other people in the lodging house?” Sir Percy took a deep breath. “I suppose it could have been Madame Dubois herself. She knew everything that went on in that place.”
Giselle scowled at him. “It could not have been Madame Du-bois. You merely think so because she is French! I suppose you will be suggesting me next.”
“Of course not,” Sir Percy said hastily. He looked over at Heath in bewilderment.
“Madame Dubois is her cousin,” Heath explained. “She always treated us kindly, and none of us considered her capable of betraying us. Still don’t.”
“Besides which, she is a person of good character!” Giselle said hotly as she stood. “How dare you think so ill of her, sir?”
“He was only trying to help, ma chérie,” Heath said.
“By maligning my cousin!”
Sir Percy held up his hands. “I had no idea. I am dreadfully sorry to have offended you, mademoiselle.”
“Well, you should be,” she grumbled. “It was most presumptuous of you to think such a thing about Madame Dubois, who always had only the well-being of her tenants in mind.”
“You are absolutely right.” Sir Percy stood, too. “I spoke out of turn. Please say you’ll forgive me.”
“I do not know . . .” she said, though she had to admit he had apologized very prettily.
“It sounds as if they’re beginning the dancing,” Sir Percy added. “Come show me you don’t hold my rash words against me by standing up with me for the first dance.”
He held out his hand and she hesitated to glance at Heath. Suddenly, he seemed very interested in his food.
Ooh, she did not know which would be worse—dancing with Sir Percy after he had insulted her cousin, or sitting out the dancing with Heath, who clearly refused to oblige her in her desire to dance. No doubt he thought she should sit here with him.
The devil she would!
“Very well,” she said sweetly to Sir Percy, though she ignored his hand to head for the door. “But no more talk of Verdun and Bitche. You must tell me all about your home at Tindale Castle. I have never seen an English castle.”
Sir Percy followed her. “And how long have you been in England?”
“Several months.”
Heath stood. “Giselle is a city girl,” he said, with an edge in his voice. “She’s rarely anywhere that would allow for viewing castles.”
“We shall have to remedy that, shan’t we?” Sir Percy said, then led her out of the door.
Ha! Take that, monsieur!
They walked down the hall to the ballroom and entered to find that many others had been drawn by the music and were already taking positions for the first dance.
As they joined the other dancers, Sir Percy glanced back, then said, “Your fiancé has come after us, and is now standing over there glowering at me.”
She followed the direction of his gaze. “Is he?”
It was true. Heath was leaning against the wall, watching them with the same intensity that often gave her the most delicious shivers. Deliberately, she turned her back on him, though she could not stop the thrumming of her blood through her veins.
Sir Percy shook his head. “I daresay the green-eyed monster has taken him over.”
“What is this ‘green-eyed monster’ you speak of?”
“It’s from Shakespeare’s Othello.” The music started, and he swept her into the dance. “Jealousy is the green-eyed monster.”
“Oh.”
Could Heath be jealous? Surely not, or he would have asked her to dance himself. Lord knows she had given him enough hints that she wished him to. Besides, one had to feel deeply for a person to be jealous, and he obviously did not feel deeply for her.
Nothing the man did made sense to her. He could not make up his mind what he wanted, and she was tired of trying to figure it out. So, she would dance with Sir Percy, and anyone else who asked, and have a grand time. She did not need Heath’s mercurial emotions destroying her enjoyment tonight.
For the next hour, she danced with a number of gentlemen. She flirted and laughed and tried to pretend that the sinfully handsome man who stood in the corner brooding, drinking champagne, and watching her obsessively did not hold her entire attention every moment.
Because she hated that he did so. She wished she could forget about him entirely and have a pleasant time. Especially since he did not ask her to dance even once. It began to vex her. He did not ask anyone else to dance, either, but still, why not ask her?
When Sir Percy came to ask her for a second dance, Heath appeared in front of her before she could answer.
“Your mother says she’s tired and ready to leave,” he said curtly.
She had not even seen Heath go to speak to Maman, but she had been dancing so enthusiastically that perhaps she had missed it. “Of course,” she replied, then turned to Sir Percy. “Forgive me, sir, but I must depart.”
Sir Percy took her hand and kissed it for the second time that night. “I am sure we’ll see each other another time, mon ange.”
Heath scowled at that, though he said nothing as he led her out the door. But as soon as they were in the hallway, he steered her back into the drawing room they’d been in earlier and closed the door.
That put her on her guard. “What about Maman?” she asked. “You said—”
“I lied,” he retorted, his expression as thunderous as his tone. “Last I saw her, she was having the time of her life talking to that same French gentleman she was with earlier. But before we join her we need to talk.”
She tensed even more. “About what?”
“You making a fool of me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He stalked the room like a caged tiger. “You’re supposed to be my fiancée. But instead of keeping me company, you went off to dance with any man who asks.”
She crossed her arms. “Yes. Tory told me I am not allowed to refuse unless I mean not to dance anymore. And I wanted to dance.”
He cast her a withering glance. “With every Tom, Dick, and Harry, apparently.”
She blinked. “I do not remember their names, but I suppose there might have been a Tom, Dick, and Harry.”
“It’s an express— Never mind. The point is it will not help my cause one whit in court to have you dancing with anyone who asks!”
She frowned. “You could have asked me to dance with you whenever you pleased. Instead, you stood in a corner and sulked.”
“Sulked! I did not sulk!” He glanced away from her. “Besides, I didn’t want to dance.” He even sounded like a sulky boy, the devil.
“So,” she said, planting her hands on her hips, “was I supposed to sit here and do nothing simply because you dislike dancing?”
“I do not dislike . . . I never meant . . .” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “It is merely that when you show attention to everyone but me, it raises speculation—”
“No one noticed or cared but you.” She marched over to thrust her face up to his. “Admit it, monsieur—this is not about your case in court. This is about your being jaloux of Sir Percy.”
His gaze snapped to her. “I am not remotely jealous, and certainly not of Percy,” he ground out, his eyes ablaze.
“L’absurdité! You are like a garcon who does not want his toy but also does not want anyone else to have it.” She thrust out her chin. “You do not want me, but you do not want anyone else to have me, either.”