She felt Heath’s frown as he turned his gaze on her. “Surely you won’t be attending the soiree?”
Her brow furrowed. “But of course. What did you expect?”
His frown never wavered. “The company will not be what you are accustomed to.”
“If you are concerned about the impropriety, I plan to come in disguise-a mask and turban-so no one will recognize me.”
“Even so, you don’t need to be there.”
Lily’s eyes widened at his obvious disapproval, until she realized that he was worried that his bachelor friends would think her among the muslin company. “But I must be there, my lord, to help our boarders if necessary. Surely you see that I cannot abandon them now? This soiree is far too important to their futures. Not to mention that a successful outcome of the soiree should help us to repay the debt owed O’Rourke.”
Heath didn’t argue but sat silently regarding her. Uncomfortable with his penetrating gaze, Lily rose to her feet. “Thank you for the gift of the book, my lord, but if you will forgive me, I have another class scheduled in a few moments. Shall I see you at the soiree tomorrow evening at eight? Regrettably I won’t have time before then, since we will be making preparations all day.”
“Till tomorrow at eight,” Heath said as he also stood.
He offered her a polite bow before she turned away toward the door, although he didn’t appear at all happy with her, Lily noted.
Yet his happiness was not her chief concern now-or at any other time, for that matter, she added mutinously to herself.
Her only concern now was holding a successful soiree so that her pupils could acquire new patrons who would care for them and give them better lives than they could ever hope for otherwise.
Heath was indeed severely unhappy with Lily’s decision to attend Monday evening’s event. He most certainly didn’t want his future marchioness at such a risque gathering, exposed to the blatant overtures of his friends and fellow bachelors.
Thus he arrived early at the soiree, prepared to keep a close eye on Lily.
He was restless and impatient, however, as he watched her mingle among the company. She had indeed worn a three-quarter mask, which concealed all of her face except for her mouth and chin, as well as an elegant turban to hide her lustrous hair. No costume could disguise her essence, though. She was vibrant and alive, pulsing with life and sensuality. Every man in the room noticed her-which was quite a feat, considering how much competition she had.
The soiree was an elegant affair, comparable to any glittering fete held at Carlton House by the Prince Regent’s tonnish cronies. The drawing room was filled to overflowing. Every one of the young women on display looked and spoke like ladies, and Heath couldn’t help but be impressed, knowing that Lily’s “academy” had turned them into beauties worthy of becoming London’s finest courtesans.
Fleur Delee and Chantel Amour looked on like proud mother hens. Fleur was garbed in scarlet silk and black lace, while Chantel was resplendent in purple satin and matchi
ng ostrich plumes, although he suspected her amethyst and diamond jewelry was made of paste.
For the first hour, Heath hovered protectively near Lily, but she moved from group to group, ignoring him. After that, she latched on to the elderly Lord Poole and spent the next hour laughing and flirting and drinking champagne with him.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, the evening was barely half over when Lily was approached by a pair of eager young bloods.
Heath felt his fists clench when one of them kissed her hand, but it was only when Lily laughed up at the young man that he could take no more. In two strides, he was standing before her.
“Ah, there you are, darling,” Heath said through gritted teeth as he took her elbow and drew her away from the company.
When he would have led her from the drawing room, however, she pulled back, resisting. “What do you think you are you doing, my lord?”
“Taking you away from here.”
“You cannot. I told you, I must remain in case our pupils need me.”
“No, you will not. In fact, I forbid it.”
“You forbid it?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief.
“Yes,” Heath insisted, his fingers taking tighter hold of her upper arm. “You are coming with me, sweetheart.”
“Of all the arrogant, high-handed-”
Her sputtering faltered when she noted numerous pairs of eyes watching their altercation. Fuming in silence, she allowed Heath to escort her out of the drawing room and up two flights of stairs to the floor where her bedchamber was located.
The corridor was dimly lit by a single wall sconce, Heath saw, and her bedchamber wasn’t lit at all, he discovered when he shut the door hard behind them. Yet since the curtains and windows had been left wide open, his eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight streaming into the small room.