Tonight, Kit found it to be nothing less than torture. Though separated by layers of kidskin, she could still feel the warmth of his hand upon hers. And his eyes… Those dark, seductive orbs seemed to follow every move she made.
'Very well, my lord, I accept your apology,' she murmured as they passed through a set of figures. 'Now you can return to London with a clear conscience, if you indeed possess such a thing.'
The marquess's eyes narrowed. 'I do not plan to return to London, Kit.'
She feigned innocence. 'Oh? Do you intend to stay and take the waters, then? I have heard they are quite beneficial to one's health.'
Irritation flashed over his face. 'I am not leaving here without you.'
She uttered a rather unladylike snort. 'Then I fear you will be in Bath a very long time, sir, because I have no intention of going anywhere, especially with you.'
'Then I will wait.'
She stumbled; he caught her against him. Her silk-clad thigh and hip made contact with his, and a jolt of electricity surged through her. Heat flooded her face. She drew back to keep a more decorous distance between them.
'You see?' he said with an infuriatingly smug smile. 'You cannot deny the attraction between us.'
'The only thing between us, my lord,' she muttered under her breath, 'is an abominable history of lies and deception.'
'I was going to tell you the truth,' he insisted, 'but Wexcombe stole a march on me with his untimely revelation.'
'You say that as if it excuses your conduct!' she snapped. The elderly couple dancing next to them glanced at her with patent disapproval, but she paid little heed. 'What you and your cousin did was despicable, my lord. And if you think for one moment that flattery and insincere apologies will get you what you want, then you are greatly mistaken.'
Putting his arm around her waist, the marquess guided her off the dance floor and around the edge of the room, where the crowd had thinned somewhat. 'And what do you think I want?'
Her body reacted to the pure seductiveness in his voice and his touch; longing pooled deep within her. She tried to ignore it. 'I… You know what I think.'
'You did not answer my question.' His dark eyes glinted. He was enjoying this!
She glared back. 'Very well. I will make myself perfectly clear on this point, my lord, so there can be no further doubt. I will not be your mistress. Ever.'
He quirked an eyebrow. 'Do you think me such a villain?'
'Yes.'
Bainbridge raised her fingers to his lips with a teasing smile. 'And yet you cannot deny that you are fond of me.'
Pain began to throb at Kit's temples. 'If this is your idea of a joke, my lord-'
'Nicholas,' he amended with a smile. 'Remember?' He turned her hand over and stroked his thumb along her gloved wrist.
Kit shivered. The pain in her head increased to a pounding. 'I am through playing these games with you, sirrah,' she declared. She snatched back her hand and glared at him. 'And I will thank you to leave me alone.' Spinning on her heel, she gathered her skirts and stalked in the opposite direction.
'Kit, wait!' he called after her. 'That's not what I-' The rest of his words were swallowed by the crowd.
Damn him. Damn him!
Tears misted Kit's vision as she fought her way toward the octagonal vestibule. Curious eyes probed at her from every direction; she raised her head, determined to maintain what remained of her composure.
After all that he had done, how could he simply walk back into her life and attempt to resume their relationship as though nothing had happened? For him to tantalize her in such an outrageous manner… and in public? The man had no moral character, no scruples at all, and she was well rid of him.
If only her body did not ache so very badly for his touch.
Viscount Langley intercepted her at the doorway, his handsome face distorted with worry. 'Are you all right, Mrs. Mallory?'
Kit shook her head. 'Would… would you be so good as to see me home, my lord? The heat… I feel a trifle faint.'
Langley nodded and offered her his arm. 'Of course; it would be my pleasure.' Then, in a lower voice, he added, 'If that bounder upset you, you have but to say the word, and I will call him out.'
Her eyes widened with alarm. 'No! Please, my lord, no more talk of dueling. As much as I appreciate your vehemence on my behalf, I assure you that all I need is to get well away from the Marquess of Bainbridge.'
Lord Langley gave her a lopsided smile. 'I may be only a viscount, Mrs. Mallory, and a rather impoverished one at that, but may I be so bold as to offer you my company as a potential diversion from his presence?'
Moisture gleamed on the edges of Kit's lashes. He was a handsome young man, though not as handsome as Nicholas-as Lord Bainbridge. His golden brown hair brightened toward blond at the crown, testament to a great deal of time spent out-of-doors. His tanned skin emphasized the blue of his eyes and his gleaming white teeth. He was not as tall as Ni-as Lord Bainbridge, nor were his shoulders quite as broad, but he was attractive, he was kind, and he was not a rake.
She swallowed her tears. 'You may, my lord, but only if you promise never to lie to me.'
The skin around Langley's eyes crinkled as his smile widened. He raised her fingers to his lips. 'Dear lady, I would do anything you asked.'
Chapter Eleven
Bainbridge paced the length of his room, turned, and paced back.
Damn.
He'd rushed his fences last night, and his rashness may have set him back even further. Instead of paying respectful and serious attention to Kit, he had behaved as he always did around members of the fairer sex. Just as at Broadwell Manor, he had found himself flirting with her, teasing her.
Seducing her.
Damn!
Was that the only way he knew how to relate to a woman?
For God's sake, stop being provoking and just tell her!
Weariness weighted his eyelids, but he had no time to heed the siren song of sleep. He thrust a hand through his hair. Think. He had to think. He had tried to follow Kit last night to explain, but Langley, that insolent pup, had intercepted Kit and spirited her away. Bad enough that he'd put his foot in it, but if he wasn't careful, Langley would take advantage of the situation more than he already had; the thought of playing into a rival's hands galled him to no end.
Perhaps he had been mistaken in seeking her out at the Assembly Rooms, after all. But would she receive him if he called upon her? Pulling a face, he bellowed first for his valet, then for coffee. He would have to risk it. So much for foolproof plans!
Bainbridge dressed with painstaking care, then left the White Hart for Camden Place. The rain had ceased overnight, and bright late-morning sunshine glinted off the numerous puddles in the cobbled streets. He winced and lowered the shade over the carriage window.
Lud, he had never worked himself into such a state before. No sleep, and less appetite. All this over a woman. His lips stretched in a gesture that was more grimace than grin. If anyone had told him that love for a lady would bring him to such a state, he would have laughed outright. As it was, every single nerve in his body seemed to be stretched to the limit, like a drawn bowstring. A knot of tension had gathered across his shoulders and showed no signs of lessening.
She would see him. She must.
The carriage brought him to Camden Place in short order, only to have Kit's tall, rather imposing Hindu butler
