Claire was astonished at her sister’s superb aplomb. Harriet was neither nervous nor disquieted by the company or the palatial surroundings. She stood on the edge of the largely empty ballroom floor with a faint smile on her face, waiting to be noticed.
She was-very quickly.
A number of men came in from the gaming rooms in a lemminglike rush, led by Baron Worth who first spied her. They made their bows and asked Ormond for introductions. As the viscount obliged, a becoming blush colored Harriet’s cheeks, and she turned an angelic smile on her suitors. Men liked innocence, she’d discovered. Playing her role to perfection, she responded to their flattery and compliments with an artless flutter of her lashes or a demure lowering of the same-exhibiting a chaste, tantalizing purity that clearly appealed to her swains.
The phrase Lead us not into temptation would be appropriate to the drama, Ormond cynically thought.
But then was that not the aim.
After having introduced everyone in what turned out to be an ever-increasing throng, Ormond turned to Harriet. “Let me find your sister and aunt a chair and then I’ll lead you out in a dance.”
“Thank you so much,” Harriet purred, lifting her innocent blue gaze to the viscount. “I would dearly love to dance.”
But no sooner had the viscount secured chairs in which Claire and Mrs. Bellingham could view the festivities, than he found himself displaced. Harriet and Lord Seego were already on the dance floor, Harriet smiling up at the duke’s heir with what could only be termed adoration and young Seego returning her regard with an equally worshipful gaze.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Mrs. Bellingham apologized, her eyes snapping with displeasure at the sight. “I’m afraid Harriet has forgotten her manners.”
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Bellingham. I wish above all for Harriet to enjoy herself tonight.”
“How gracious of you,” she murmured, thinking that the aristocracy were strange indeed. The viscount didn’t display an iota of jealousy. She wasn’t quite sure whether that was good or not.
“Perhaps I could induce you to dance, Miss Russell,” Ormond smoothly interposed. “It doesn’t seem right for you to sit out the dance.”
“I shouldn’t,” Claire demurred, aware of her aunt’s frown.
“Nonsense. If you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Bellingham,” the viscount added, politely, taking Claire’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “This song is a favorite of mine.”
“My aunt is scowling at us,” Claire whispered as he led her away.
“It doesn’t matter.” The bluntness of the privileged. He nodded toward her sister. “Was I right about Harriet or not?” he queried with a grin, smoothly drawing Claire onto the floor and into a waltz.
“So it seems.”
“In spades,” he cheerfully observed. “She has a swarm of suitors-not to mention Seego is in the market for a wife. His father wants to see the dukedom further extended before he dies. He’s ill, so time is of the essence.”
Claire frowned faintly. “How cold that sounds.”
“It needn’t be. Seego’s a pleasant enough fellow.”
“But a dukedom. I doubt Harriet can fly so high.”
“The present duke married his governess. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not disparaging the union, simply stating a fact. The family is open to new blood.”
“My goodness.” Claire glanced at her sister and her partner with a speculative gaze. “Perhaps Harriet will be engaged soon.”
“I’m not sure soon is in my best interests,” the viscount said with a wicked smile, twirling gracefully around two couples. “Perhaps we should have something in writing,” he teased.
Suddenly aware that they were the cynosure of burning interest, Claire wondered if her gown had ripped in an embarrassing spot. “Why are those people staring?” she nervously inquired.
“I never dance, that’s why. Ignore them.”
Only partially relieved, she muttered, “If only I were as dégagé as you, Ormond.” He was always the center of attention, she suspected.
“James, if you please or I shall charge you tuppence each time you call me otherwise.” His voice was playful.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Try to collect.”
“Oh, ho…what a charming prospect.”
“For a man who never dances, you’re very good,” she said, intent on changing the topic to something less licentious.
“Dancing was one of my mother’s great pleasures,” he smoothly replied, ever courteous to a lady’s sensibilities. “You pass muster rather well yourself.”
“We entertained ourselves in our household; my father played the violin, my mother the pianoforte, and we girls danced.”
“Definitely an asset for Harriet in her quest for a husband,” he murmured. “As for your accomplishments as a dancer, those I intend to keep for myself.”
“Am I obliged to yield to those wishes?”
Was that flirtatious or provocation? “Let’s just say it would please me if you did,” he carefully returned. “I believe I’m jealous,” he said with a look of surprise. “It must be your beguiling décolletage inspiring me,” he drawled, quick to ascribe his curious feelings to more familiar causes.
“Do you think it’s too daring?” Claire nervously queried. “Auntie said it was.”
“Hardly,” he said. “Most females display their breasts without compunction.”
She found herself annoyed at his observation. But she’d no more than acknowledged her resentment, than she chastised herself for a fool. Did she really think a man like Ormond would be anything more than he was? Why wouldn’t a rake and libertine notice breasts? Do not forget the kind of man you are dealing with, she warned herself.
But as the music came to an end, Ormond himself prompted her to face the reality of her agreement with him. “Come, we’ll see that Harriet is content in the company of her swains, and then I’ll show you my cousin’s library.”
“Meaning?” Did he propose to drag her off without regard for propriety?
“Meaning, I thought you might enjoy seeing the late earl’s renowned collection of maps and books on exploration.” He smiled faintly. “I have no plans to seduce you this minute if that’s what you were thinking. Ah, here comes Catherine. Would you like her to come with us and save your reputation?” he teased.
Lady Harville waved her fan in the direction of the gaming room as she reached them. “I just introduced your aunt to Lady Strand who was looking for a fourth for whist. They are off arm and arm.”
“Oh, dear. My aunt is alarmingly serious about whist and a bit outspoken, I’m afraid.”
“As is Lady Strand on both counts.” Catherine smiled. “Don’t worry. All will be well.” She glanced at Harriet twirling past in Seego’s arms. “I see your sister is being amused.”
“Indeed. Thank you for inviting us and thank you too for the wonderful books.”
“They were of no use to me and James rather thought you would like them,” she replied, not quibbling over the truth when this woman might offer James some happiness-however brief.
“Speaking of books, I was about to show Miss Russell Harry’s map collection. Would you care to join us?”
“I would love to if I could get away from my guests. Unfortunately, I see Charlotte over there looking daggers at Anne.” She made a small moue. “They are sharing a lover at the moment which makes for bad feelings. Pelham should know better, of course, but he doesn’t, insensitive rake that he is. Heavens-they’re about to make a scene!”