He raised his cup and drained it in one gulp.
"Dexter!"
Martin turned and saw Leopold Korsinsky pushing through the crowd. Mentally cursing, he tossed his empty cup to a passing attendant and reached for Amanda's hand. "Careful," was all he had time to growl before Leopold reached them, a cloaked lady on his arm.
Barely nodding to Martin, Leopold bowed elaborately before Amanda. "Madame-have we met?"
Using the cup to shield her lower face, Amanda looked out from the shadow of her hood, noting the sharpness of the Corsican's gaze as he scanned all he could see. She lowered her voice to a deeper key. "I believe we have met, sir, although you might not recall."
Dexter squeezed her fingers. Amanda grinned behind the cup.
Korsinsky's eyes narrowed. "My memory is often at fault, yet were I so remiss as to forget such an attractive party, I would be a lost cause indeed."
The other lady was eyeing Dexter as if he were a meal.
Keeping her voice low, Amanda laughed. "How do you know I'm attractive, covered as I am?"
Leopold shot a glance at Dexter and she had her answer.
"I would not suppose it otherwise, ma belle," Leopold returned. "But perhaps I can persuade you-"
"Leopold."
Just one word, loaded with warning; Leopold looked at Dexter, brows rising. "But mon ami, there is plenty of distraction for you here. Agnes, she is attending. She will be delighted to know you are present."
"I daresay. However, Madame is keen to see the gardens. If you and your lady will excuse us?" With a bow for the lady, a brusque nod for Leopold, Martin gripped Amanda's hand and stepped back. He barely gave her time to nod in farewell before he led her away.
Into the gardens, down the long, shadowed walks; Amanda saw no reason to remonstrate. "Who was the lady?"
"Not one of your circle." He took her empty glass and handed it to an attendant. Then he stopped, contemplated the poorly lit walk before them, then turned and led the way back to a cross path. "The fireworks will start soon."
They headed toward the grassy area where the fireworks would be set, meeting more and more people similarly inclined. When they stepped onto the lawn, there was a gaggle of couples milling and shifting. Dexter scanned the field. He grasped her elbow. "Up there."
"There" was a small hill affording a good view of the display. The slope was crowded, but he found them a place near the top.
"Stand in front of me." He wasn't the sort of man people crowded; he positioned her before him, protected by his body from the crowd behind and to some extent from the sides as well.
Almost immediately, the first rocket streaked upward and exploded. Accompanied by rapt "ooohs" and "aaahs," the exhibition progressed, a man-made tapestry of white fire hung against the ink-black sky.
The crowd was transfixed by a depiction of a horse, when
Amanda sensed movement behind her, then heard, "Martin? I thought it was you."
Luc Ashford!
She felt the loss of Dexter's protective presence, the loss of his heat down her back, felt suddenly vulnerable, exposed. He'd stepped back to avoid any suggestion of a connection between them. Luc was sharp-eyed and sharp-witted. Neither she nor Dexter wanted to direct Luc's gaze her way.
"Luc. Are you here for the ambiance, or are you with a party?"
After an instant's hesitation, Luc responded, "I'm with friends. They're down there, but I thought I glimpsed you through the crowd."
"Ah."
"And what of you? According to the gossips, you avoid social gatherings like the plague."
"One should never listen to gossips. I found little else of interest tonight, so thought to take the air here." After a pause, Dexter added, "I'd forgotten what it was like."
Another pause; Luc's voice was softer when he said, "Do you remember the first time we came? A girl each, a cheap booth and we thought we were kings."