Chapter 4
Four
Dash held his features in a composed mask that had carried him unscathed through far more perilous rooms than this.
On the Continent, he had stood in rooms where a single misstep cost far more than his pride.
His hard-earned composure served him now, though it did nothing to ease the sharp, uncooperative twist in his chest as Lady Lavinia turned her back upon him with the coolness of a woman who had been thwarted too often and too recently.
Dash could not help recalling the easily embarrassed girl she had been. That girl did not exist now. She had tenacity and courage that he admired even while it irritated him. He would rather she used all that fortitude against someone other than him.
Thornhill said in a lazy drawl that was as smooth as silk, “Perhaps we ought to begin again, Lady Lavinia. I had been complimenting you on your wit and...”
“What he means,” Dash cut in, his tone mild enough to seem nothing more than a simple social interjection, “is that he has nothing of consequence to add.”
Thornhill’s smile did not fade. If anything, it brightened and became all impish and knowing. “If memory serves...consequences are rather your specialty, Ravenwood.”
Dash met the other man’s gaze and held it, letting silence speak for itself. Thornhill, for all his charm, was not a fool. He understood a warning when it was directed at him. “It’s good that you do remember,” Dash replied, quietly.
Lady Lavinia tightened her shoulders. It was the only sign she gave that she had disliked what she’d heard. “Lord Ravenwood,” she said in an irritated tone, “you cannot simply insert yourself into every conversation I happen to be having.”
Dash flexed his jaw. He kept his voice low to prevent his words from being overheard by anyone else, though the music and laughter would swallow most of it regardless. “When you are speaking to a man who can charm a bishop into treason, I can and I will.”
She paused, but only briefly before she met his gaze.
She lifted her head and stared directly into his eyes, and the flare in her bright blue eyes was unmistakable.
She turned her head slightly as if she were studying something beneath her notice.
“How very dramatic,” she murmured. “and exhilarating.”
Dash had spent his life among men who pretended fear had no hold on them.
He had learned, early, that bravery often looked like insolence.
He could not help but wonder if that was what Lavinia was presenting to them now.
What had happened to her since the last time he had seen her?
What had made her suddenly afraid? He couldn’t very well ask her that now.
Thornhill lifted his glass as if offering a toast. “You wound me, Ravenwood. I have never charmed a bishop into treason. A curate, perhaps. But never a bishop.”
“You haven’t?” Lavinia said. “And here I had begun to believe your persuasive skills were unparalleled.” Lady Lavinia’s mouth curved faintly despite herself—an unwilling smile, quick as a candle-flame.
He hated Thornhill for his ability to charm anyone.
Hated the ease with which the man could coax laughter from a room or that he could soften a woman’s guard with nothing more than a glance and a turn of phrase.
It was a skill that had kept Thornhill alive.
It was also a skill that made him dangerous in ways a pistol never could.
Tonight, with Lavinia’s safety balanced on unseen threads, Dash could not afford to indulge any man’s talent for drawing her attention. Especially not Thornhill’s. He had to ensure no one harmed her or he might very well lose his mind.
“Lord Thornhill,” Dash said, the civility in his tone honed to a fine edge, “you will excuse us.”
Thornhill’s brows rose. “Will I?”
Dash stepped a fraction closer, just enough to block the view of his lips from most angles, enough to make the exchange private without appearing intimate. “You will,” he said in a firm tone.
Thornhill’s smile lingered a bit longer and then shifted into something else. It was less teasing and held more intent. Only Dash would have caught the change. “You are being obvious,” Thornhill murmured, so low it would have been nothing but air to anyone else.
“So are you,” Dash returned. “Why are you here?”
Thornhill met his gaze and said, “I might ask the same.”
Dash did not blink. “You know precisely why I am here.”
Thornhill stared at him, his blue eyes appeared far too innocent to be believed. “Do I? I had heard you were not fond of balls or polite conversation”
“You do not know me as well as you believe you do,” Dash said in a dry tone. “Stop pretending that you do.” Thornhill had never been one of the men he had a close relationship. The man was a damn good spy though. “I have attended a ball before.”
“Clearly you enjoy them,” Thornhill replied, “Considering the glower you sent in my direction.”
Dash dropped his voice into a low tone. “Do not test me tonight.”
Thornhill smiled. But it was not a friendly smile. It was far too sharp around the edges to ever be considered warm. “Ah. So, something is amiss. Care to share it with a fellow compatriot?”
Lavinia’s gaze flicked between them, her impatience mounting. “If you two are going to continue to speak as if you’re about to come to blows,” she said coolly, “might I suggest you do so somewhere less crowded? You are drawing attention.”
Dash’s instincts urged him to agree, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. He slid his gaze throughout the room. No one appeared to be watching them. There were no lingering gazes or any footman hovering too long in any area. There did not seem to be any danger to be concerned about.
Still, Dash kept vigil, because danger was not always obvious…
“Lady Lavinia is correct,” Thornhill said with an insufferable sigh. “Ravenwood you’re being quite cantankerous. It is so… unbecoming.”
Dash leveled his gaze on him. “You should be elsewhere. Don’t you have another lady or two to charm?”
“And leave Lady Lavinia to you?” Thornhill’s voice warmed as though he were savoring the provocation. “What a dreary prospect. I should feel guilty.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Dash returned. “Guilty is the last thing you should feel. What you should feel is terrified. If you do not leave, I might throttle you in full view of the entire ton.”
Thornhill lifted his brow. “Jealousy, Ravenwood? I would not have suspected you capable of such an emotion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lavinia lifted her chin. “No one is jealous.”
Dash could not believe he was arguing with Thornhill about something so trivial. It also irritated him that the blasted man was right. He was jealous. Lavinia seemed to be paying far more attention to the charmer than to him and he did not like it. He glared at him and said, “No one asked you.”
“That is an answer in itself, is it not,” Thornhill said, pleased.
Dash turned to Lavinia, because if he kept sparring with Thornhill, he would be tempted to do something that would require an apology, explanation, or perhaps both. Either way he hoped to avoid that possibility. “Lady Lavinia,” he said, in a controlled tone, “you will dance this next set with me.”
She stared with astonishment. “That does not sound like a request.”
“It is,” Dash said evenly. “I simply have very little patience at the moment. Please dance with me.”
The flare in her eyes was immediate and filled with so much heat it almost burned him. “You have even less patience for being contradicted, it seems.”
“He does have a point, Lady Lavinia,” Thornhill made a thoughtful sound. “Refusing him in public would be a scandal. A delicious one, but still.”
“Do not encourage her,” Dash bit out.
Lavinia turned her gaze toward Thornhill, then back to Dash. Her voice softened into sweetness, which was a warning in itself. “If I agree, answer a few questions?”
“I will consider it,” Dash said.
“Only consider it?” she retorted as she raised a brow. “That hardly seems fair. Perhaps I should consider causing a scandal after all.”
Thornhill’s smile turned triumphant. “Oh, I do adore you, Lady Lavinia.”
“Why are you still here?” He was tired of Thornhill’s witty remarks.
Lavinia curved her lips upward defiantly. “Fine,” she said at last, placing her hand in Dash’s. “I will dance. But only because I refuse to grant you the satisfaction of thinking you have won.”
Dash bowed. “How generous of you, my lady.”
Thornhill lifted his lips upward, his impish charm in full view. “Enjoy yourselves. Try not to stab one another until the last note.” As if Lavinia had a knife… He did, but she did not need to know that.
Dash guided Lavinia onto the floor and settled his hand at her waist. The waltz began and he swept her through the steps with ease.
Tension filled her even as she moved with grace.
She held herself like someone determined to show no weakness, though he suspected she was carrying more fear than she would ever admit.
“Are you always this difficult?” Lavinia asked.
“Only when necessary.” He wanted to be honest with her as much as possible. “I can be reasonable.”
“Who decides what is necessary?” Her voice held challenge.
“I do,” Dash replied. It was how he had always done things, and he doubted he would change for her. He might consider it, but some things were far too difficult to do.
Lavinia huffed softly. “How convenient for you.”
He turned them, letting the music carry them closer to the far side of the room, away from most of the couples on the floor. “Why were you talking with Thornhill?”
“Do I need a reason to speak with him?” she asked.
She would make an excellent spy with the way she dodged that question. He admired her wit and tenacity. “I suppose not,” Dash said, but he could not leave it at that. “But we both know that is not the truth. Tell me what you were hoping to discover from him.”
She met his gaze and held it. “Perhaps I just liked him. Can’t that be enough?”