Chapter 6
“Your Grace, I never thought I would see you in a room with a Redgrave ever again,” Lord Prescott joked.
Constantine nearly sneered as the old acquaintance thumped him on the back.
Only by curling his hand into a fist and imagining shoving the man’s hand away did he manage to stand still and keep up his fake smile.
He did not like being touched, but he had a part to play.
Still, Prescott had a point. Constantine was sure he was on his way to losing his mind by accepting the Dowager Duchess of Redgrave’s invitation, given everything her eldest son had done to his younger brother and the bad blood that had formed between himself and their family.
However, it was an opportunity to confront the youngest Mason about the fire, a certain beautiful young lady who had schemed her way into his masquerade and had left him both enraged and intensely curious.
“Yes, well, some circumstances cannot be helped,” Constantine replied, giving him an arrogant smirk. “Nature was not kind to you, Prescott, but she was at least consistent.”
The other three gentlemen in their circle, whose titles Constantine could not be bothered to remember, laughed and chortled at the sharp barb as Prescott turned a deep red and forced a smile.
Serves him right for peppering me with questions.
“Oh, good heavens, there she is,” the gentleman to Constantine’s left sighed, changing the subject.
“Who?” another asked, his eyes following the first man’s gaze.
“Lady Elara Mason,” the third gentleman said, his tone full of awe as he joined the other two in gawking.
Constantine’s eyes followed theirs before he could help it, and he felt a stir of heat the moment he saw her. Unlike the night they had first confronted one another, Lady Elara now looked like the perfect young lady for society.
Her raven curls were neatly pulled up with diamond pins rather than loose around her shoulders and chest. Her teal dress complemented her fair skin beautifully, and the empire waist gave her an approachable, gentle look, unlike the crimson gown that clung to her like a seductive dream.
Such a pity that such a beautiful woman wishes to be so problematic, he thought, letting his eyes wander over the small expanse of bare flesh at the nape of her neck.
He thought back to the night they met, to when she had accused him of having something to do with Evander’s disappearance. Her words were greatly offensive, but he had to admit that he was impressed by her dedication to her family. It was a trait he shared with her.
However, Elara was mistaken, which was why he had chosen to attend the ball. Despite how much she had angered him at his party, he needed her to know that he had nothing to do with Evander’s death.
Constantine left the group without another word, his eyes locked on her even after she turned her back to him and grabbed a glass of champagne from a footman.
“Are you certain it is a good idea to drink spirits so quickly?” he leaned down and whispered into her ear.
Pleasure surged through him as he watched every little hair on the back of her neck stand up at the sound of his voice, emboldening him to speak again.
“I would rather think you would want to keep your wits about you. Since you so obviously fooled your brother into sending me an invitation.”
Constantine had been sure that it was the boldness of her crimson costume that had made Elara’s eyes glow so very blue the night of his ball. However, as she spun around to face him, he realized he had been wrong.
Very wrong. Perhaps about everything, including my coming here, he thought to himself as he stared into those deep, ice-blue depths of Elara’s eyes.
Several tense seconds passed as he waited for her to break her stunned silence and speak.
“What is the matter?” he mused when she still said nothing. He raised a curious brow as he looked her up and down. “Disappointed?”
Elara’s widened look of surprise finally shifted to one of cool observance, and she lifted her right shoulder in a single shrug.
“With you, Your Grace? I fear there is always an air of disappointment,” she replied coolly.
Constantine smirked despite his annoyance at her barb.
However, amusement soon coursed through his veins as Elara, so very casually, tried to take a sip of her champagne, only to find it empty.
She even shook the glass, which made him chuckle.
When she blushed at her mistake, he felt absolutely delighted.
Reaching for her, he caught the dance card dangling from her wrist.
“What are you doing?” Elara whispered, trying to pull her wrist away.
Constantine shot her a look, tsked his tongue, and tightened his grip. She stopped fighting him, but the look of annoyance on her face was downright adorable.
“Since you do not wish to speak to me, I must assume you asked me here to dance,” he mused, penciling his name on her card.
“I do want to speak with you,” Elara whispered vehemently. “It just cannot be here, in front of everyone.”
“Well, you should have said that earlier,” Constantine sighed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He dropped her card and the tiny pencil as he straightened. “Now we must honor your dance card.”
He raised a brow, as if daring her to make her next move. He was rewarded with another glare from her, one he had to admit made her pert nose wrinkle and her sculpted cheeks flush so beautifully.
“Oh, do my old eyes deceive me, or do I see the young Duke of Ashworth?”
Constantine snapped out of his confounding reverie at once when he heard the voice of Evander’s mother.
He turned to face her and felt a little out of his depth as the Dowager Duchess wrapped her arms around his shoulders, just as she had done so very long ago when he and Evander were boys, and hugged him tightly.
Constantine could not help the well of emotion that rose in him.
He might have issues with her children, but Constantine could never act coldly toward their mother.
“Your Grace,” Constantine replied, sweeping into a low, respectful bow before Nora.
He placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, then rose.
As he did so, he noticed two things. First, Evander’s mother, though still beautiful, appeared much more frazzled than when he had last seen her seven years earlier.
Second, Elara was looking at him as if he had grown two heads.
“How beautiful you look, Your Grace,” Constantine praised, turning his full attention to Nora. “It is you, not Ponce de Leon, who has surely discovered the fountain of youth.”
“Oh!” Nora tittered, blushing like a young girl. “You were always my favorite among Evander’s friends. It has been so many years since you visited, though! I did not realize I had sent you an invitation.”
Constantine spared a glance toward Elara, who looked as if she were holding her breath, worried about what was about to happen with each passing second. It confirmed his suspicions that she was the one who had sent him the invitation.
“Yes, well, it seems we were both on each other’s minds, for you surely did send me one,” Constantine replied smoothly, adding a little charm to his voice. “And I am so very glad you did, as I now have the pleasure of being Lady Elara’s first dance partner this evening.”
Constantine did not have to look toward Elara to know she was glaring daggers into the side of his face. He could feel her annoyance at him radiating off her in waves, and he felt no shame in taking pleasure in basking in it.
“You are? Oh, how lovely!” Nora said, smiling warmly at both him and Elara. “Well, I must thank you for stepping up, Your Grace. It is our first ball in quite a while, and I fear our Elara was perhaps a bit nervous about it.”
“Mama!” Elara groaned, her eyes going as round as dinner plates. Constantine had to cover his laughter with a feigned cough. He changed his mind. He was rather glad he had attended after all.
“Do not be embarrassed, darling. It is your first Season!” Nora comforted. “It is perfectly normal to be nervous.”
Although Constantine was quite content watching Elara grow increasingly uncomfortable, he noticed, as he looked around, that several dozen sets of eyes were now fixed on them. He felt his insides quiver under the attention and, for the time being, dropped his mockery and moved the night forward.
“Perhaps now is a good time for that dance?” Constantine asked, offering his hand to Elara. She looked down at it as if it were poisonous. Then her gaze flicked back to her mother, and her cheeks flushed. Eventually, she slipped her gloved hand into his and forced a curtsy and a smile.
“With pleasure, Your Grace,” Elara said through clenched teeth.
She followed him without protest to the dance floor as the orchestra began a new song, and Constantine guided her into a waltz. Her movements were as stiff and unfeeling as the expression on her face, but Constantine noted that at least his feet did not suffer from her heels with clumsy steps.
“Your plan is not going as well as you hoped, is it?” he asked, leading her into a twirl.
“Not exactly,” she muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “However, I did get you here, so it is not a complete loss.”
Constantine smirked as he raised her hand, spun her, then drew her back to him. Warmth exploded in his palm as he touched her lower back, followed by a shiver of excitement.
“And what was your goal in getting me here?” he asked. “Clearly, it was not to dance with me. You are as stiff as a board.”
Elara glowered at him, yet he felt her soften slightly in his embrace, her movements becoming more fluid.
“We never finished our conversation the other night,” Elara whispered, still eyeing him warily. “And furthermore, how do you know my mother so well? I thought you hated my brothers?”
“It was not always so,” Constantine murmured.
Elara’s lips parted as if she were about to ask more about what he meant. Not wanting to revisit such memories, Constantine cut her off.
“So you wanted to talk. Fine. Where?”
“My brother’s study is on the second floor,” Elara replied, her soft tone sending another shiver of excitement through his veins. “Third door down the Eastern Hall on the left. We will have privacy there. Meet me there when the orchestra finishes two more songs.”
“And your brother will not interrupt us?” Constantine asked.
“No, he will be too busy dancing with his wife,” Elara answered, and without waiting for the dance to end, she took her leave.
Annoyance surged through Constantine as she left him on the dance floor, looking like a fool standing alone among the swirling couples. He shook his head, grinding his jaw, then quickly removed himself from the dance floor before more people could notice.
As he waded through the sea of people and made his way toward the ballroom’s walls, Constantine once again questioned whether it had been a good idea to come.
Yes, Elara intrigued him greatly, but he was not sure whether he was more intrigued or annoyed by her.
After all, it was she who had sneaked into his home.
She who had demanded answers about the past as if she had more right to them than anyone else.
She who had just left him on the dance floor, looking like a fool.
Elara was beautiful, yes, but as Constantine stealthily made his way to Adrian’s study, he decided her beauty was not worth the aggravation she had stirred in him.
He had more responsibilities than ever now, and the last thing he needed was some nosy lady coming in and making a mess after all he had done to make things appear clean again.
Constantine opened the study door and his mouth, ready to tell Elara he was leaving; his brows rose, and his mouth snapped shut when he found the room lit by oil lamps but otherwise empty.
He took a step into the room. Then another.
He walked over to the back of the couch facing him, peered down at the dark green velvet cushions, and found them empty as well. Elara was not there.
Just where is she? Does she intend to make a fool of me?
Curious and now more agitated than ever, Constantine turned on his heel to leave the room.
Just as he took his first step toward the door, it was suddenly pushed shut.
Constantine raised a single brow as Elara stepped forward from where she had been hiding between the door and the wall, and smiled as she reached for the lock and turned it with a key.
“What do you think you are doing?” Constantine demanded.
“Ensuring you cannot leave until I have my answers,” Elara replied.
Then, with a flourish of her wrist, Elara slipped the key into her bosom. With that little act of rebellion, Constantine felt his lust roar back to life.