When at the end of the dance Lord Montgomery returned her to her circle, she was somewhat surprised to discover Chillingworth patiently waiting. Her gratitude bloomed anew as under his direction, the conversation remained light-hearted and general. Then the musicians struck up a waltz, and she realized why the earl was waiting.
The look in his eyes as he bowed before her was flatteringly intent. "If you would do me the honor, my dear?"
Alathea hesitated, another large gentlemen very clear in her mind. She looked up-and found him watching her, waiting to see what she would do, ready to step in and claim her if she didn't fall in with his decree. His intent reached her clearly as the circle of her admirers, noticing him, parted like the Red Sea.
Tamping down a spurt of rebelliousness, accepting she dared not bait Gabriel in his present mood, she glanced at Chillingworth. "I'm afraid, my lord, that I'm already promised. To Mr. Cynster."
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That last was redundant; Chillingworth's gaze had fastened on Gabriel's face. Primitive challenge flashed between them, then Chillingworth bowed. "My loss, my dear, but only a temporary one. There'll be many more waltzes tonight." Even more than his words, his tone signalled his intention.
With a grace to match Chillingworth's, Gabriel bowed and held out his hand. Alathea placed her fingers in his, conscious to her toes of the restrained strength in his grasp. He drew her to him, turning as she joined him, effectively cutting off her court. The dance floor was only a step away, and then she was whirling in his arms.
Alathea inwardly frowned. She was aware the outcome of that little scene had pleased him. It hadn't, however, pleased her. "You're drawing too much attention to us."
"In the circumstances, it's inevitable."
"Then change the circumstances."
"How?"
"Your insistence that I waltz only with you is ridiculous. It's going to cause comment. It's hardly something one can explain on the grounds of long-standing acquaintance."
"You want me to let you waltz with other men."
"Yes."
"No."
He whirled her through the turn. Alathea gritted her teeth. Why did he imagine he could dictate such things? Because of the hours she'd spent with him in the dark. She bundled the recollections aside. "It isn't wise to attract the attention of the gabblemongers. People are starting to wonder."
"So? They're not wondering anything that will reflect adversely on you."
Yes, they were-if he kept on as he was, the whole ton would soon believe that he and she would marry, but that wasn't going to happen. By the time they'd dealt with Crowley and his company, Gabriel's attraction to her would have waned and he'd be off laying seige to his next conquest. Raising expectations destined never to be fulfilled was not a good idea. Worse, these were the sorts of expectations guaranteed to fuel the gossips' fires. She was too old-far too old-to be eligible.
Alathea seethed through the rest of the waltz, her temper not improved by the speculative glances thrown their way, or by his continuing-and she was quite sure deliberate-rasping of her senses.
By the end of the dance, she was ready to be returned to the safety of her court. He, it transpired, had other ideas. The reception rooms opened one into the other; on his arm, he paraded her through them. Only the increasing crush prevented them from being the focus of far too many eyes.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere less crowded."
She could hardly argue with the wisdom of that; tall though she was, she was feeling hemmed in. The small salon to which he took her had palms and statues breaking up the space. Consequently, it boasted areas in which one could converse, not private but protected. Gabriel led her to a nook created by a trio of potted palms and an ornamental arch.
A footman passed with a tray. Gabriel collected two glasses of champagne. "Here-it's only going to get hotter."
Accepting the glass, Alathea sipped, relaxing as the bubbles fizzed down her throat. She scanned the room, then she sensed Gabriel stiffen. When she turned, her gaze collided with Chillingworth's as he joined them in their retreat.
"I count myself fortunate to have found you again, my dear."
Gabriel snorted derisively. "You followed us."
"Actually, no." Chillingworth snared a glass as the footman hove within reach. He sipped, his gaze on Alathea's face. "I assumed, after that little display in the ballroom, that Cynster would retreat to some area more conducive to his purpose."
"A tactic you would know all about."
Chillingworth looked at Gabriel. "That point has been puzzling me. You are, after all, a friend of the family. Your present tack is one I would never have expected."