Reaching Alicia, all thoughts of Adriana and her swains disappeared; taking Alicia’s hand—the hand she now freely offered—he bowed, then placed her fingers on his sleeve, covering them with his.
She looked up at him, faintly arched a brow.
He simply smiled at her.
With a haughty look, she returned to her watching brief.
He studied her. Her gown of apricot silk, a warm and subtle shade, deepened the rich mahogany of her hair and made her creamy complexion glow. The gown hugged her curves, the silk flowing over her hips and down the long line of her legs. For the moment, he was content simply to stand and let his senses drink her in.
Two days had passed since he’d last had her to himself. He’d spent those days and the intervening evening pursuing a whisper Dalziel had heard of a possible link between Ruskin and someone in the War Office. Nothing, however, had come of it; while there might be someone in the War Office interested in things that were no business of theirs, there was no hint of a connection between Ruskin and anyone bar the mysterious A. C.
He’d caught up with Alicia at a ball yesterday evening; he’d had to content himself with a waltz before leaving to spend the rest of the night trawling through gentlemen’s clubs and exclusive hells.
Jack Warnefleet was busy, Gervase likewise in Devon, and Jack Hendon would arrive in town late tomorrow. Jack had conveyed his willingness to place his time and contacts at Tony’s disposal, an offer he intended to take up with all speed.
Tonight, however, the single question nagging him was: how slow was slow?
Cumberland House was a massive old mansion, one with numerous useful little rooms; he’d explored it years ago with some amorous young matron who had known more of its amenities than he. Such knowledge, however, was never wasted.
The musicians were resting; he wondered at his chances of convincing Alicia that Adriana would be perfectly safe for a time.
He glanced at her; she straightened, coming alert. He followed her gaze and saw Adriana looking questioningly Alicia’s way.
Alicia responded; he moved with her as she glided to Adriana’s side.
Adriana looked uncertain. “Sir Freddie was wondering…”
Smoothly urbane, Sir Freddie stepped in. “I was wondering, Mrs. Carrington, if you would permit me to take Miss Pevensey for a stroll in the conservatory. It’s been opened for the evening, and many others are enjoying the cooler air. I thought perhaps you and”—Sir Freddie’s gaze flicked, man-to-man, to Tony—“Lord Torrington might accompany us?”
Alicia smiled regally. “A stroll in the conservatory sounds an excellent idea—it’s quite stuffy in here.” She nodded encouragingly to Adriana, who smiled and accepted Sir Freddie’s arm. “You go ahead, we’ll follow.” Alicia glanced at Tony as Adriana and Sir Freddie turned away. “If you’re willing…?”
He looked down at her, then slowly arched a brow. She blushed lightly and glanced away.
Ignoring Geoffrey and his suppressed displeasure—an emotion Tony had no difficulty interpreting—he tucked Alicia’s hand more definitely in his arm and steered her in her sister’s wake.
While crossing the crowded ballroom, they chatted of this and that, but once inside the long conservatory, with its glass doors latched open and a wide corridor down the center cleared for promenading, there was space enough to ask, “How lies the wind in that quarter?” With a nod, he indicated Adriana, conversing animatedly with Sir Freddie.
Alicia humphed. “Much as I feared. Your friend Manningham has stolen a march on all others. However, as the saying goes, true love never runs smoothly.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Adriana believes she should be certain of her feelings before she bestows her hand on any gentleman. And how is she to be sure other than by testing the waters?”
“Ah. I take it Geoffrey isn’t taking well to her testing program?”
“Indeed.”
He glanced down; a distinctly satisfied expression was stamped on Alicia’s fine features.
“It’s only sensible that a lady should be sure of her choice before declaring it, and if a gentleman has problems with that, well…”
Her gaze was fixed on Adriana and Sir Freddie; Tony told himself she wasn’t speaking of herself. Their conversation drifted to other things, yet as they returned to the ballroom, he couldn’t quite rid himself of the suggestion.
If she needed assistance making up her mind, he was only too ready—and willing—to supply it. How slowly could slowly be, after all?
The musicians had resumed; Lord Montacute was waiting to claim Adriana’s hand in a country dance. Sir Freddie nobly requested Alicia do him the honor; to Tony’s irritation, she granted Sir Freddie’s wish.
Deserted, he went searching for the refreshment room.