Simone gritted her teeth. “Lord Tydale, would you be kind enough to procure me a glass of champagne?”
There was a moment’s pause before the older man gave a reluctant grimace. “But of course. I shall return.”
Lord Tydale grudgingly turned to move away, and Mr. Ravel boldly flicked his gaze over her slender form.
“Do all gentlemen leap to your commands so swiftly, Lady Gilbert?”
Simone was startled by the soft, seductively dark tones. There was a faint trace of an accent but it oddly only made his voice more pleasing.
She gave an unwitting shake of her head, attempting to clear her suddenly thick thoughts.
There was something ... something drawing her into a strange sense of lethargy that made it difficult to think of anything beyond the tempting beauty of his ebony eyes.
She swayed forward, nearly lost in the darkness before she was belatedly grasping her elusive anger and gathering it about her like a tattered shroud. She tilted her chin upward.
“Those who wish to please me,” she said in an admirably steady voice.
Something that might have been surprise rippled over the pale, elegant features before Mr. Ravel allowed his lips to curl upward.
“Ah, a woman who demands obedience,” he mocked. “Tell me, my dear, do you not find admirers with no will of their own rather tedious? There are, after all, faithful hounds if you wish utter submission. A gentleman of genuine strength could provide a great deal more. Anything you could desire.”
Her irritation deepened. How dare he sneak into her home, blatantly stare at her as if she were a common tart and then treat her with such aloof amusement?
“I understand that you are relatively new to London.”
He shrugged. “I arrived last week.”
“From the Continent?”
“Yes.”
She glared into the unearthly magnificence of his countenance. “Alone?”
“No. I have two cousins who traveled with me. They were unfortunately unable to join me this evening.”
Her lips tightened at the implication that his cousins would have been as arrogant as he in thrusting themselves into a gathering where they were not invited.
“Are you visiting family?”
“No, I have a small commission to be discharged and then I shall return to my home.”
“And where precisely is your home?” she persisted, refusing to be daunted by the cool haughtiness etched into his expression.
The pale slender fingers lifted to absently play with a diamond pin in the folds of his cravat. She discovered herself nearly hypnotized by the languid movement. He possessed the hands of an artist, she thought fuzzily. How would it feel to have those fingers stroking her overheated skin ...
Simone shuddered in shock as she hastily thrust the renegade thought away.
“You are very inquisitive,” he drawled in those smoky tones.
“Am I?” She forced herself to meet that disturbing gaze squarely. “Well, perhaps that is because I am unaccustomed to having strangers invade my home. I am very select in who receives an invitation.”
“Ah.” He remained supremely unconcerned at her insult. “A wise precaution, no doubt.”
“I think so. It would not do to have a clever encroacher thrusting their way into society.”
“An encroacher?” A chiseled ebony brow slowly lifted. “You do not believe anyone would possess the audacity to boldly enter society without the proper bloodlines ?”
A near hysterical giggle rose to her throat before she sternly subdued it. What was the matter with her? She would give all away if she were not careful.
“Yes, I do.”
The dark eyes seemed to narrow. “An interesting notion.”
Realizing she was treading dangerous waters, Simone prepared to take a more direct approach. Clearly the gentleman could not be shamed by more subtle means.
“I believe, sir, you are being deliberately obtuse,” she charged in low tones.
The thick brow inched higher. “Deliberately? Could it not be that I am merely unintentionally obtuse? After all, the proper bloodlines have never ensured intelligence.”
Her teeth gritted. “How did you enter my home?”
“I assure you I did not materialize from thin air.” He appeared amused by her rising irritation. “I walked through the front door as any proper guest would do.”
“Impossible,” Simone retorted, thinking of the large, barrel-chested Bartson. No matter how dangerous this man might be he could not have bested her servant without a very noisy struggle. “My butler would never have allowed anyone in without an invitation.”
He offered an elegant shrug. “He was quite understanding when I revealed that I had only recently arrived in London. I assured him that had you known of my presence you most certainly would have desired me to attend your elegant gathering. We are, after all, destined to be quite intimately acquainted.”
