“Maybe things aren’t as they appear with him.”
She shook her head. “The man is a killer. There is nothing more to know about him.”
“I believe you know nothing about the man.”
She glanced around the room and then back at him. She stiffened her back and said, “I am not feeling well. Please return me to my mother.”
“Figured it out, did you?”
“How dare you come here? Jennette will have the vapors just knowing she sent me to the dance floor with the likes of you.”
Matthew hurried to escort her off the dance floor and back to her mother. He should have known this would be the response from any decent woman among the ton. Any woman…except Jennette, his mind countered. Jennette hadn’t run from him. She had even defended him to her brother.
As they reached Lady Bartlett’s position in the matrons’ corner, he attempted to bow over Lucinda’s hand only to have her draw it away.
“Good evening, sir,” she huffed and walked off.
There was no use in staying here any longer. No doubt, the word of his presence would blow about the ballroom with the strength of a gale-force wind. While he should at least thank Jennette for trying, he didn’t wish to bring any gossip down on her. He would sneak out the terrace door, exactly as he’d entered.
Feeling the burning gaze of a hundred guests upon his back, he walked to the door. He made his escape quickly and silently. Or so he’d thought.
“Leaving already?” Jennette stood in the moonlight looking everything like the angel she’d dressed to be tonight. She rubbed her arms as if to keep the cold wind away.
“Yes. I wouldn’t wish to cause you any further distress tonight.”
She lifted one black eyebrow. “Am I to assume the dance with Lucinda didn’t go as I’d planned?”
He approached her slowly. She had matured into an exquisite beauty. She had delicate cheekbones and flawless ivory skin, a mouth too full to be perfect but just right for other things. The white gown outlined her slender body and slight fullness of her breasts. He shook his head to clear it of his sordid thoughts.
“No,” he finally replied. “She determined my identity.”
Jennette sighed, a delicate sound that brought his attention to her full, pink lips again. “I will have to do better at this matchmaking plan.”
He moved a step closer to her, knowing they already stood far too close. “Unless you don’t wish to do better?”
She looked up at him with a start. “What do you mean?”
“Perhaps you don’t want to find me a bride.”
“But…oh, no,” she said with a little smile and a shake of her head. “I will not marry you.”
“Maybe,” he whispered. “But don’t you want to know what you will be missing?”
Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not particularly.”
He stroked her cheek with his gloved hand until she trembled. “Haven’t you ever wanted a scoundrel in your bed?”
“Like you?”
“Exactly like me.”
Her eyes darkened to the shade of sapphires as her face went somber. “But we both know you really aren’t a scoundrel.”
“If you say so.” He moved away from her, tipped his hat, and walked off the terrace. Before he was too far away, he turned and said, “Please let me know when I should expect another prospective bride.”
“Very well,” she answered. “I will send a note.”
“Or you could call on me in person.”