She threw him an ingenuous smile. "Yes." Releasing his hand, she twirled, then halted. "Do you like it?"
His gaze had locked on her body, sweetly encased in lavender-blue twill; now he lifted it to her face-and couldn't find words to answer. His chest had seized, his wits scrambled-the pounding in his blood escalated. The sheer glory of her face, her eyes, didn't help-he'd forgotten what it felt like to be smitten by an angel.
His mother and aunt were watching, eagle-eyed; he cleared his throat and managed to smile urbanely. "You look… extremely fetching." She looked delectable, delicious-and he was suddenly ravenous.
Retaking her hand, he laid it on his sleeve. "We'll take a turn down to the flowerbeds and back."
He heard an amused "humph" from the carriage, but he didn't look back as they strolled onto the lawn, too busy enjoying the sight-and the sensations-of having his angel on his arm again. She smiled up at him-her golden curls caught his eye. "You've had your hair trimmed."
"Yes." She angled her head this way and that so he could appreciate the subtle changes. Her curls had always framed her face, but loosely. Now, by dint of artful clipping, the frame was more complete, more stable-if anything, brighter. "It suits me, I think."
Demon nodded. "It's undeniably elegant." Lowering his gaze, he met her eyes. "I expect it complements your new evening gowns well."
She blinked her eyes wide. "How did you know?…"
He grinned. "I called yesterday and heard you'd gone shopping. As it appears you've visited a modiste, and I know my mother, the rest is easy."
"Helena came, too. It was…" She paused, then smiled at him. "Very enjoyable."
Content, Demon returned her smile, then looked ahead.
They strolled in silence, as they had so often on the Heath. Neither felt any pressing need of words, deeply easy in the other's company. Flick felt the breeze ruffle her skirts, felt them flap against Demon's polished Hessians. The steely strength of the muscles beneath her fingers, the sense of strength that reached for her, surrounded her and lapped her about, was blissfully welcome.
She'd missed him. Her singing heart told her that; her exulting senses confirmed it. Tipping her face to the sun, she smiled, aglow with an emotion that could only be love.
She slanted him a glance-only to find him watching her. He blinked, a frown forming in his eyes. Even as she looked, his face hardened.
He looked ahead. "I thought you might like to know what we've discovered about Bletchley."
Guilt struck. In the whirl of the past days, caught up in her own discoveries, she'd forgotten Dillon and his problems. "Yes, of course." Strengthening her voice, she looked ahead. "What have you learned?"
From the corner of her eye, she saw Demon grimace.
"We've confirmed Bletchley arrived on the Newmarket coach. It stops at Aldgate. We checked, but he isn't known in the area." They reached the flowerbeds and turned onto the gravel path beside the display. "Montague-my agent-is organizing a watch on the venues gentlemen use to meet with the riffraff they occasionally hire. If Bletchley appears, we'll pick up his trail again."
Flick frowned. "Is this Mr. Montague the same man you came down to see before?" Demon nodded; she asked, "Has he learned anything by looking for the money?"
"Not yet, but there's a large number of possibilities to check. Stocks, bonds, deposits, foreign transactions-he'll check everywhere. He has finalized the approximate sums we're looking for-the amounts taken from each fixed race over the autumn season, and the first race this year."
"Is it a lot?"
Demon met her gaze. "Enormous."
Reaching the walk's end, they turned back across the lawn, passing close by a number of other couples. With easy grace, Demon exchanged cool nods, distant smiles and steered her on. Flick mimicked his politesse with a calmly serene expression.
Once they were free, Demon glanced at her, then lengthened his stride. She kept pace easily, but wondered why he was hurrying.
"The total amount taken is simply so huge," he continued, "it's utterly inconceivable that it won't show up somewhere. That's one encouraging point. Luckily, we've still got a few weeks before informing the stewards becomes imperative."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No." He glanced down at her, his expression impassive. "I'll check with Montague in a day or so, if he doesn't contact me." He hesitated, then added, "I'll let you know when we learn anything to the point."
She had to nod-they were almost at the carriage. Glancing at Demon's face, she noted the languidly bored mask that seemed to slide over his features, sensed the steely control that infused his movements, making them appear lazily indifferent. She assumed it was his London persona-his wolf's clothing, as it were.
But she didn't understand why, when he handed her into the carriage and bowed gracefully, he didn't meet her eye.
Horatia tapped his arm. "You'll receive your invitation to an informal ball Louise is giving today. The ball's early next week-I'll expect you to escort myself and Felicity."
Demon blinked. "Won't Papa escort you?"
Horatia waved dismissively. "You know your father-he'll want to call at White's on the way."
A grim expression flashed in Demon's eyes, then was gone. Resigned, he inclined his head. "As you wish."
As he straightened, his eyes touched Flick's, just for a second, just long enough to reassure her. With a bow to Horatia and Helena, he turned away.
"Don't be late!" Horatia called after him. "We'll be dining there."
A wave showed he'd heard. Taking the reins, he leapt into his curricle, then gravel crunched, and he was gone.
Chapter 16
"Just look at them!" Amanda hissed disgustedly in Flick's ear, then gracefully twirled away,
Amelia took her place. "Even if they're dancing, they still sneak looks." She dipped and swayed, and continued sotto voce, "And there's usually one standing on the sidelines, like Demon is now, so if we rip a flounce or tear a ribbon and try to slip away, they still catch us!"
Flick smiled at her partner and linked hands-she gave no sign of having heard the twins' grumblings. They were whirling and twirling their way through a country dance; about them, Louise Cynster's ballroom was filled with all the family presently in London, together with family friends. As the ball was informal, and most guests related to one another, an air of easy gaiety prevailed. There were many younger people present-girls like Heather and younger males, too-which underscored the feeling of a family celebration.
Flick dipped under her partner's hand and smiled at the innocuous young man; the twins did the same, no sign of their disgruntlement showing in their serene faces.
In the days since she'd first met them, they'd spoken at length on the watchful propensities of their male cousins, but Flick hadn't entirely believed them. Now she did. They did watch-she could see how the twins would find it irksome.
While Gabriel and Lucifer had both taken to the floor, they could occasionally be glimpsed through the press, checking on the twins. As for Demon, he stood at the side of the floor, not even bothering with the guise of chatting, his gaze fixed, distinctly intimidating, on their set.
At first glance, it was a wonder any male with an ounce of self-preservatory instinct would dare invite them onto the floor. However, the younger gentlemen-those not much older than the twins themselves-seemed impervious to any threat. As they were truly innocent of entertaining any impure designs on the twins, they seemed to take it for granted they were safe.