His name was Devlin Archibald Monroe, earl of Convers, heir to the duke of Brabante, and Corrie thought he was very nice-looking indeed. He wasn’t much older than James, tall, black-eyed, and his face was as pale as the portrait of a vampire Corrie had seen in a forbidden book a century old, hidden at the back of her uncle’s bookshelf. He had a dark voice that sent lovely shivers up her back.
He smiled and showed no fangs, and that was a relief. She said her rehearsed speech, he looked amused, and when he asked her to waltz, she lightly placed her hand on his offered forearm and headed to the dance floor.
Not many minutes later, Alexandra heard a beloved voice and turned, a smile on her face. “Mother, you look altogether lovely this evening. I see Father has deserted you.”
“James, my dear. Your father escaped me after one dance to meet with some of his cronies in the library. It’s past ten o’clock. You’re here at last. Where have you and Jason been?”
James moved a bit closer since there were people nearby. “Jason and I wanted to meet with some men down at the docks. No, Mother, don’t chew my ear, there was no particular danger. Besides, Jase and I are very careful now, so please don’t worry or else I can’t tell you what we’re doing anymore.”
That was a powerful argument, but it was difficult to keep her mother’s worry and advice behind her teeth. She touched his cheek. “I won’t carp at you. Did you learn anything?”
“Yes and no. One of the men had come from Paris. He’d heard that an English nobleman was going to get his just desserts, nothing more than that. Perhaps it was the same person who informed the War Ministry.
“I asked if he’d heard of any children, but he didn’t know. He gave us another name, a captain on a fishing boat due up the Thames within the week. Will he know more? I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. Ah, where’s Corrie?”
“She’s dancing with Devlin Monroe, see over there, on the other side of the dance floor.”
James shook his head. “No, I don’t see her. I see Devlin, but not Corrie.”
Alexandra said, “Ah, James, give your greetings to Lady Montague and Sir Arthur Cochrane.”
James greeted Corrie’s Aunt Maybella, who was wearing her usual pale blue. He greeted Sir Arthur Cochrane with the deference he automatically accorded an older gentleman who had claims on his father’s friendship. Personally, he’d always believed that Sir Arthur needed to bathe more often and use less pomade on what was left of his hair.
He said to Maybella, “I’ve been trying to locate Corrie on the dance floor, ma’am.”
“Perhaps you can spot Devlin. He’s so very pale, you know, with those lovely dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Ah, the dance is ending. Here they come.”
“I see him, but I don’t recognize-” James’s jaw dropped.
CHAPTER TEN
Love is a universal migraine.
ROBERT GRAVES
JAMES STARED, SHOOK his head, looked at every female near to that approaching female, who was laughing, nearly skipping, her step was so light, so filled with excitement.
No, that couldn’t be Corrie Tybourne-Barrett. Not that creature with hair the color of rich autumn leaves, all piled up on top of her head with ringlets hanging in front of lovely little white ears that were pierced with small diamond studs. All right, maybe it was Corrie-but-his eyes were on her breasts, yes, there were breasts. How had she hidden this incredible creature so thoroughly? He pictured her breeches and old hat and shuddered. He looked at her breasts and shuddered again.
She was smiling at something Devlin said. She looked fresh and innocent, a babe ignorant of wickedness, and he knew he should warn her about Devlin.
“Hello, James.”
“Hello, Corrie. Devlin, did you purchase Mountjoy’s bay gelding?”
“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.”
“A bay gelding?” she asked. “A hunter?”
He nodded. “Yes, a fine addition to my stables. He likes to chase foxes at night, isn’t that nice?”
“I suppose so,” Corrie said. “My money’s on the fox, though.”
Devlin laughed.
James took a small step forward, crowding this interloper, his voice aggressive. “Perhaps Corrie told you that I’ve known her since she was three years old, Devlin. I suppose you could say that I know her better than I know the planets. And I know the planets very well indeed. Naturally I’ve always looked out for her.”
“Ah, but perhaps she’d like to hunt sometime with me, you think?”
“No, she has night blindness,” James said and narrowed his eyes on Devlin’s pale, pale face. Then he smiled and offered his arm. “Would you care to dance, Corrie?”
Corrie ignored him, giving a blinding smile to Devlin Monroe. “Thank you, my lord, for the lovely dance.” James watched Devlin’s smile widen, and wanted to smash his fist into his pale pretty face.
“Perhaps another waltz later?” he said, half an eye on James.
“Oh yes,” she said. “I should like that.” When she turned back to James, he was still frowning as he watched Devlin disappear into the crowd.
“What was that all about, James? You were rude to Devlin. All he did was dance excellently with me, and amuse me.” When he just kept looking ahead and said nothing, she was presented with a delightful opportunity: she was free to look at him. If she looked fine, then James looked beyond fine. Every feature blended with every other feature, as if by an artist’s hand. His eyes looked pure violet this evening beneath the swarm of candles that shown down from scores of chandeliers.
“Your cravat is crooked,” she said, placing her arm on his and walking to the dance floor, not looking at him, but at the gaggle of girls heading their way. Oh dear, would they walk over her and haul him away?
They stopped only when James had led her into the center of the dance floor. He said, “I would ask you to straighten it but I doubt that is a skill you possess.”
She wanted to snarl at him, kiss him, maybe even hurl him to the floor and bite his ear, and so she twitched the cravat this way and that until it was as straight as it had been before she’d touched it.
All the while, he was looking down at her, a curious smile on his face. “Your gown is lovely. I assume my father selected the pattern and the fabric?”
“Oh yes,” she said, her eyes still on the blasted cravat that wouldn’t cooperate.
“I assume my father also thought that the gown is cut too low?”
“Well, he did gnash his teeth a bit, and he did point out that the gown was cut so low my knees were nearly on display. He started to hoist it up himself, like he does with your mother’s gowns, but stopped fast when Madame Jourdan told him he wasn’t my father, so his odd notions of bosom coverage weren’t to the point.”
An understatement. James could hear his father roaring.
She dropped her hands from his cravat, then lightly traced her fingertips over his shoulders and down his arms. “Lovely fabric, James. Nearly as lovely as mine.”
“Oh no, surely not. Is my cravat perfect now?”
“Naturally.”
“I also assume you learned how to waltz?”
“You certainly weren’t around to instruct me, were you?”
“No. I had to come to London. There were things I had to do.”
“Like what?”
“None of your business.” He put his arm around her, actually touched her back, and she nearly fell off her slippers.
