Impetuous Innocent (Regencies 3)

Dominic greeted her with a formal bow and a cold, “Elaine.”

Inwardly, Lady Changley winced, but she kept a bright if brittle smile fixed on her lips and attempted to inject some warmth into her habitually cold gaze. “Dominic, darling,” she purred, “how pleasant to find you here. Have you come to alleviate the singular boredom of this party?”

Dominic allowed his gaze, which had returned to the dancers immediately after greeting her, to come slowly about to rest on her face—a handsome face, pale and perfectly featured, but devoid of all softness, all womanly feeling.

The music stopped.

Suddenly nervous, Elaine Changley plied her fan, fluttering it delicately just below her eyes.

Curtly Dominic bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I am engaged for the next dance.”

With that, he left her, aware of the avid interest of the dowagers, and of Elaine Changley’s eyes, following him.

Paler than ever, Elaine Changley had no move left on the board. She had perforce to remain where she was, her temper in shreds, and bear the sly feminine whispers of the ladies from across the room and the less subdued cackle of the witches on the sofa beside her. Her apparently impetuous approach to Lord Alton had been designed to draw all eyes. His leaving her after no more than a minute made his uninterest as clear as if the town crier had announced it. And he had gone straight to Miss Hartley’s side! Seething and impotent, Lady Changley stood rigid as a post, forced to accept the most comprehensive defeat of her varied career with what very little grace she could muster.

A sudden tingling rippling along her nerves told Georgiana, chatting easily with Lord Ellsmere, that her next partner was close. She turned slightly to find her hand taken in a firm grip and placed, equally firmly, on Viscount Alton’s arm. Chancing an upward glance, she found his lordship’s blue eyes smiling down at her, that curiously warming expression readily discernible.

“Julian, I believe Arthur is looking for a fourth in the card-room.”

Lord Ellsmere laughed at the overt dismissal and, with a smiling bow over Georgiana’s free hand, he left them.

There was a slight break betwen the country dances and the waltz, while the musicians retuned their instruments. Lord Alton seemed quite content to spend the time staring at her. Unnerved, and knowing she would very likely dissolve entirely if she permitted him such licence, Georgiana strove to find a suitably distracting conversational gambit.

“All the ton seem to be attending tonight. The rooms are quite full, don’t you think?” Breathless and quivering, it was the best she could manage.

“Are they?” Lord Alton replied, brows rising, but his gaze remaining fixed on her face. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The expression in his blue eyes and the seductive tenor of his voice infused his words with a meaning far in excess of the obvious. Georgiana blushed.

Dominic smiled. “But you remind me of something I had to ask you.”

“Oh?” Georgiana struggled to reduce their interaction to the commonplace. If she could only keep talking, and avoid those soft silences that he used so well to steal her mind and her wits and her very soul, she might just survive. “What was that?”

“Why, only that I wondered what your plans for the winter months were.” The music restarted, and Dominic drew her gently into his arms and into the swirling drifts of couples on the floor.

Her feet circling dutifully, Georgiana made a desperate effort to focus her mind on his words. “Ah…” She moistened suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, then tried again. “I… That is to say…” She caught his amused look. A sudden little spurt of anger allowed her to regain her composure. Putting up her chin, she stated calmly, “I expect to be returning to Italy.”

A woebegone sigh met her declaration. At her look of surprise Dominic said, “Mrs Landy and Duckett will be so disappointed. I’m sure they would love to see the eminently fashionable young lady you have become, if only to congratulate themselves on their far-sightedness.”

Georgiana looked her puzzlement.

Effortlessly guiding her about the turns required to negotiate the end of the room, Dominic waited until they were once more precessing up the length of the ballroom before smiling down into her large eyes. “I have invited Bella and Arthur to spend Christmas at Candlewick. It is my earnest hope you will join us.”

Wise in the ways of his Georgiana, Dominic watched her thoughts in her eyes. He waited until the desire to accept his invitation had been overcome by her instinctive fears, and a reluctant refusal was about to leave her lips, before allowing a pained expression to infuse his features. “Before you come to any hasty conclusion, I beg you will consider what a refusal would mean to me, my love.”

His evident distress, the unacceptable endearment, combined with her own conflicting emotions, which he had skilfully invoked, left Georgiana’s head in a whirl. “What…? Why, what on earth can you mean, my lord?” Her eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

He ignored her last question, and continued in despondent vein, “You must see that it really won’t do.”

Dizzy, Georgiana made a grab for sanity. She drew a deep breath. “My lord—”

“Dominic.”

Georgiana blushed, and was further confounded by his lordship’s rising brows and the words, “If I’m to go about calling you ‘my love’, it’s only reasonable for you to use my Christian name.”

Georgiana was so flustered that she could think of nothing to say.

“Now where were we?” mused his lordship. “Ah, yes! You were about to accept my invitation to spend Christmas at Candlewick.”