“Just so,” Charles answered and then leveled a direct look at him as he confessed, “She seemed to think you might show up at Southby’s tomorrow night.”
Nick felt a strange flutter inside himself. “And your answer?”
“I told her that you were not the man to bat her eyelashes at,” Charles answered testily.
“Well done,” said Nick on a chuckle.
“Well?” Charles returned.
“Well what?” Nick answered, knowing he was irritating his cousin.
“Damnation, man, do you intend to go?”
“We’ll see,” was all the answer he was going to give. Indeed, his mind was already elsewhere as he tipped his hat to an old flame whose coach had just come up alongside his window.
Five
BABS’ MIND WANDERED as she chatted idly with friends at the soiree. Friends? So many either engaged or already married. And her dearest friend in all the world had just recently been married to the love of her life; she’d told Babs all about the thrill of ‘making love’ and just what it really was like.
With spring in the air and igniting her imagination, that particular subject had filtered through her thoughts more than once. What would it be like to make love with a hot-blooded man?
She sighed, for in this season, more than any other, her body seemed to be coming alive. She felt intoxicated with the romance that spring seemed to offer with its scents and sounds. It was as though she were shedding the girl and embracing the woman that wanted control.
Two names had recently made headlines, and gossip columns were also abuzz with anything and everything about those two names. It was their daring and their offhanded mannerisms that caught everyone’s attention. One was the poet Lord Byron, whom her father wished her to avoid, and the other, the arbiter of fashion Beau Brummell. Brummell was a valet’s son who had managed to become the Prince Regent’s friend and fashion’s dandy king.
At that moment, Babs turned and found herself flanked by both of them, and as she considered each dear, she smiled warmly.
Beau held his quizzing glass up to his eye with a show of appreciation a
nd said loudly enough for the nearby crowd to hear, “Stunning, my dear heart. That flame-colored gown fits you to perfection. Indeed, you carry it off beautifully with those black curls of yours, and those curls shine intoxicatingly as they frame your lovely face—I am …” He bent and kissed the air above her gloved fingers. “… your very obedient servant.”
“What of her dark, yes, Beau … I should write an ode to her dark eyes …” Byron said on a low, flirtatious note.
She laughed, rapped Byron’s shoulder lightly, and wagged a finger at Beau. “Stop it, you two, or you will have my head swell, which would be most uncomfortable.”
She looked across the room at that moment, and there he was. His blue eyes looked directly into hers, and she was startled to discover that she was capable of feeling missish. She tried to shrug off the sensation and inclined her head, allowing the Duke of Barrington a silent greeting.
She saw an amused smile light up his oh too handsome countenance while both Bryon and Beau kept up a lively conversation beside her. She returned her attention to these two and tried not to think of the duke across the room.
***
“Nick, you devil!” Charles exclaimed, coming towards him. “I can’t believe you actually came!”
The duke smiled at his cousin but ignored his remark as he shook hands with his host, Southby, and made an outrageous remark to Southby’s latest flirt. He then followed this up by whispering something in her ear that made her catch her breath and fan herself. “Well … if Southby doesn’t mind …” she said softly, looking at the portly man beside her.
“Mind?” spluttered Southby. “Of course I mind, you naughty piece of fluff.”
She released a ripple of musical laughter and moved off towards the orchestra. Southby turned to the duke. “What’s this, Wildfire, stealing me wench right out from under me nose?” His tone was full with lively banter.
“I am persuaded that she is much too attached to you.” The duke smiled and turned to find the object of his scheme standing with Count Stauffenberg. “She is merely … ah …” The waltz he had requested was struck up. “Do excuse me, but my blood beckons.”
Southby and Charles watched him move in, bow to Lady Barbara, and lead her onto the dance floor for the first waltz.
“Damn, but what is he doing?” Southby shook his head. “Not in his usual style, the Lady Babs …” He leveled a hard look at Sir Charles. “Best to steer him off. It just won’t do—”
Charles bristled in defense of his friend and relation. “You are out there. First of all, he is the Duke of Barrington with name, position, and wealth. Secondly, can’t make him do or not do anything he has a mind to do or not do. Thirdly, he is just amusing himself for the moment.”
“Is he, well then, if that is all it is … no doubt leading her out so pointedly like this would have made her season had she not already been the sweetheart of the ton. I’m told she has a list of would-be suitors but will have none of any of them.” He sighed. “The wonder is she has turned ’em all away.”