Chapter Nine
From the corner of his eye, Halsey detected Inès Bechard’s path through the crowd. Slowly, casually, she wove her way among the guests and spoke with this one or shared a short remark with another. He had tracked her every move since she arrived…and now, she seemed to be headed toward him.
What a woman. Was it proper French manners to approach a man at a ball? He had no idea. And if she did, she did not care. His heart swelled with pride. He applauded her.
His pulse surged with excitement. She intended to engage him in a discussion?
“Good evening, Lord Halsey.” She stood beside him, facing those on the chalked dance floor, considering the positions they assumed at the end of the country dance that had just ended.
“You fare well this evening, I think. Your sister, Lady Ranelagh, is a very fine dancer. Your youngest sister is having a lovely time, as she should. She is…hmm… What do you say here, a jewel of the ton? The musicians are excellent. The guests delightful.”
She went quiet, her hands folded before her.
Satisfaction filled him—and it was less about all she had mentioned and more about how she had observed it all and, still, had come to him for more. So it was easy for him to ask, “And the wine?”
She did turn her beautiful oval face toward him then. Her expression was all seduction. “You have excellent contacts in France. The vin rouge is smooth.”
“And the vin blanc?”
“Silky. The finest grape. From the Vouvray. I commend you.”
“I will be interested in your assessment of my chef’s offerings for midnight supper.”
She gave him an impish smile. “I will sample every dish. I am very hungry.”
He wondered what specifically her appetites craved, but, of course, he could not ask. Not yet could he go so far into her private thoughts. “Have you a note on your card for an escort into supper?”
“I do. Sir Rafe.”
“Durham.” Fiend. I will upbraid him tomorrow. “I should have known he would act fast.”
She smiled, reading his jealousy as if he had his thoughts printed on his forehead. All whimsy, she gave him a sprightly tip of her head. The tease. “Have you an obligation to a lady for this next dance?”
“None.” He locked his gaze on how her long lashes fanned her elegant cheekbones.
“Good.” She moved closer, her body heat as alluring as her delicate perfume. She was delectable, all golden-brown eyes and glimmering blonde hair, with lips like juicy bits of peach. “Would you dance with me?”
His heart went thump. “I will,” he accepted much too quickly. A callow boy would have had more patience. “But I owe you an apology. At the Carlisles’ in the garden, I was wrong to demand things of you. I was rude.”
“Thank you for that. Many men would not have apologized.”
“I was arrogant to demand you reveal things to me that I had no right to know.”
She toyed with a smile, looking pleased at his words. “Merci beaucoup.”
“I want to be friends.”
That made her arch a brow in mirth. “Do you?”
“For a start.”
“Why? I am no one to you. A stranger. A woman of little means and no social connections, save those that you suspect imply many things.”
“Don’t you want a friend? A feeling of safety? Serenity in the presence of others?”
That appealed so much to her that her lovely brown gaze melted into his. “I do.”
“Then accept me as your newest friend.”
She licked her lips.
He wanted to do the same.
“Done,” she said, and put out her hand. “Shall we dance now?”
He took her hand and led her to the center of the floor.
For that minute, as they waited for others to take their places and for the orchestra to strike their first note, he was busy noting the height of her forehead, the hollow of her cheek, the tip of her nose, and the bow—the strong, pretty bow—of her upper lip.
He would kiss her soon. Take those lips again.
Open her wide and make himself known as her fond admirer.
She liked him. But she was torn. She did not want him as a lover, and in the same thought, she most assuredly did.
Why, how, did he detect that? It did not matter.
He had all the time in the world to discover all her objections, all her desires.
The music began, and he took her against him as the type of dance demanded. She was as lithe, her breasts as plush, as he remembered.
The caller declared this dance to be a placid walkabout.
Halsey rejoiced. He could have his hands on her for long minutes.
They began, and she followed him easily.
She was full of a grace that spoke of years of understanding music.
In the jaunty chords, he chased away the jealousy that she had danced with some other man in whose arms she had flowed like a swirling river to the sea.
But she stared into his eyes for a moment or more, then closed them, afloat in his embrace.
He took it as a sign she did feel safe with him.
A good first step to have more of her. Serene, composed, self-possessed—she was a rare creature.
#
His hands on her told her he was a commanding man used to those who did his will. She could offer him her trust for the dance, for the moment. She wished she could appreciate his protection to its fullest, but years of denying any man power over her had created a habit of resistance.
“You like to dance,” he said, not as a question but a statement that brought out both of his dimples.
“I do and have not done enough of it. I note you dance well even with that persistent limp.”
“I was wounded last summer.”
“A hunting accident?” she asked.
“Definitely.”
“What did you catch?” In the summer, what game was sought here in England?
“A criminal.”
She was surprised he was so forthright. “You are in that business?”
“Aren’t we all?” he asked, and the question burned her with its truth.
She took to dancing.
When they parted to face the others in their set, then returned, he got in another question. “What else do you like besides dancing?”
“Riding. Billiards. Shooting.” She should not have said that last.
“Are you good at them?”
“As fine as can be when I am astride a horse like a man…” She watched his appreciation of that. “And when I have an opponent who is a novice at billiards.”
“And shooting?”
“I take proper aim.” When I must.
“I am not familiar with French practices about the hunt. Do ladies go out?”
“They do in the countryside.”
“And in the Loire? On your brother’s estate?”
She caught a breath and met his languid gaze. He had asked about her brother. What did he know about him? “No one does that on Bechard land these days.”
“Your brother does not approve?”
“He cannot. Vaillancourt, Fouche’s deputy, put Luc into La Force two years ago.”
His fingers flexed against her flesh. His reaction warmed her. “Oh, I am sorry, mademoiselle. I did not know.”
“Few do. Do not apologize.”
“I should have. I try to keep informed about such things.”
“My brother is a good man.” To most. But to Fouché and his deputy, the venal Vaillancourt, prison is the right reward not only for Luc’s actions but also for my own. “You have heard of him?”
“Is your brother not heir to the Duc de Brissac’s estates?”
“He is. He was forced to claim them, when Bonaparte enforced a tax on our home estate if Luc did not claim the greater holdings. Luc did not wish to be associated with the Brissac name or reputation.”
“The duke was a close associate of the late King Louis.”
“And a corrupting influence,” she said. “My brother is the opposite. An upright man of ethics and morals.”
“I hear your anger and your despair. I apologize for broaching the subject. Would you like to end our dance?”
“No apology is necessary, sir. You are kind, but let us finish the dance. We do not want people to think you have offended me when, indeed, you have not.”
His fingers moved on her waist, pressing and drawing her ever so slightly nearer. “You have an eye for Society’s reactions. That is practical, mademoiselle. And you are kind to me to continue the dance.”
They broke apart to do a promenade, and when they returned to face each other, he took both her hands to lead her forward in the steps and she said to him, “Neither of us has a desire to create any rumors.”
“None.”
“Your reputation speaks of good deeds, sir.”
He cocked a brow. “You have asked about me?”
“I have not had to ask. Many value what you do and who you are.”
He twirled her about, and when they were once more face to face, he smiled down at her, those dimples showing as he whispered, “I am honored.”
She could not help but smile. “Do you try to gild the lily, Monsieur le Comte?”
He gave a laugh. “What do you mean?”
“I pay you a compliment and you try for more?” She arched her brows.
“No, mademoiselle. I am pleased with what you have given me.”
Of course he was pleased! She had to tease him, though she knew it would encourage him more. “Another kiss?”
“Oui, definitely that.”
“It was a surprise, monsieur. The carriage, too.”
“Evan,” he corrected her.
She gave him a sly side-eye. “I was taken by storm. Both times.”
The musicians drew the dance to an end. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists. “As was I.”
She took a quick breath, at once unwilling to part with him. Was she succumbing to his charms? “The dance is done.”
“But our time is not.” He led her off the floor to a corner where no one else stood. She went for the sake of the looks of it. But he inched delectably near her. “I wish to kiss you again.”
His fingers lifted one hand of hers and brought it to his lips. His blessing was hot.
She groaned and yanked her hand away. “We will not.”
“You wanted my kiss the other night and pulled me close.”
“That was an experiment.”
His beautiful eyes widened in mirth. “Do you experiment with other men?”
“No. Never.” Not with kisses.
“I am pleased at your answer…and hope you will experiment with me again.”
“Oh, no.”
“But why not? You loved it.”
She gave a silent laugh. To deny it would be futile. “I did.”
“Have there been many kisses you enjoyed?” He seemed to breathe the words over her skin.
“No,” she admitted, and wished she hadn’t given him more truth.
“Well, then, we must share more.” He looked around the room. “I cannot leave.”
“And I must.”
He caught her to him before she completed a step away. “Tomorrow. I will send a note where to meet me. It will appear to be an accident, just like our meeting in the shop in Piccadilly.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Not for an ice at Gunter’s?”
She laughed. “Isn’t it rather cold for an ice?”
“A pastry, then. And afterward, an afternoon of searching for items for your new home?”
“No, I will not. My reputation is as important to me as yours is to you, Monsieur le Comte.”
“My name is Evan and I wish you to use it. We are friends and will become more.”
“You should not want that.” Was her honesty getting the better of her?
“Do you?”
“Oh, sir.” She felt her chest tearing with misery. He was too kind, too appealing, and she had never had a man who called her from her loneliness with such persistence. “Evan, I should not, but I do.”
He seemed to absorb her words as if they were rays of the sun. “I will see you tomorrow at Gunter’s at two. Monday, I shall bring my mother and sisters, Fee and Jessica, to Lady Ashley’s at-home. Then, in the days after that, you and I will ride and visit friends and anything else I can think of.”
His words were a smoldering fire setting flame to her good intentions.
“Say, mon chérie, you will go with us.”
She could not find the strength to refuse him. Where would be the harm in a little fun? She yearned for it, her heart dry as dust with dedication to her cause. “Oui. I will.”
He drew near, and her instinct was to defy all of Society and kiss him then and there.
“I must leave.” She gave a little curtsy. “Good evening, monsieur. A lovely ball.”
“And you have made it so,” he murmured, and kissed her hand.
She fled like the wind was at her back.
#
She climbed into the public hack, thanking his butler for the acquisition. Settling into the cushions, she muttered her vows to do better where Evan, the noble Monsieur le Comte de Halsey, was concerned.
She would become closer to him. Submerge her fondness for his charm and the lure of his words and his lips.
She had to. He was precisely the type of man she needed to accomplish her mission—but she would use him only for the occasional information.
Not the final coup. Damn her to hell, she wanted him only for the soaring satisfaction of her own heart.
He might be well connected to those in government. The foreign minister. Perhaps the home minister, too? Officers in the army? The navy?
But she took a huge risk to be so close that she learned him better, admired him more. Non, certainment. To lose herself in a romantic liaison would confuse her. Delay her process.
Heaven knew, she could get lost in him. His dancing—she had evidence now—was indicative of his grace as a lover.
That she had craved for herself, like any young girl, but she cut the desire from her when she took on work with Luc and more for Amber.
She was not young now. Not a girl, but a woman of some experience.
Could she not act the part of a woman fascinated, a woman tempted?
One who danced and flirted, kissed, and left the man to his own devices?
She could. Clenching her fists, she must demand that of herself.
Spend time with him, go shopping with him or eat ices at Gunter’s.
That was all. She would not have to show him the ultimate favor.
That would be so unkind. She was a woman bound by her past, but she could act responsibly.
She was not, at base, an unscrupulous woman.
Resolved now as to her limits with him, she could plan better. She would refurbish her house. Establish her security. Use her solitude. Become Evan’s fond friend. Learn what she must. Find other men to give her access to the very thing she required.
People would check on her. Soon they would make themselves known. They must. They would come and ask about her timing. Her progress.
She had to be ready for their questions.
Her brother’s life depended on it.