Part 58 (1/2)

”Still so cruel, divine one?” Sir Mar ma duke's dissolute gaze roved over her familiarly. Lady Polly Sea- grave had never been an accredited beauty, but there was nevertheless something very alluring about her, he thought.

Tonight, in the deep aquamarine which was rather daring for an unmarried lady, albeit one of more mature years than the debutantes, she looked particularly attractive. Her dark hair was up swept and restrained with a diamond studded slide but she wore no jewels other than a string of pearls that had the same translucent glow as her skin.

She did not need adornment.

Sir Mar ma duke's eyes lingered in lascivious appreciation. Whilst the dragonish Dowager was fully occupied, he intended to take full advantage of this unexpected teteatete.

Polly sighed again. She had far too much a.s.surance to feel threatened by Sir Mar ma duke's slimy overtures. In a crowded ballroom she was in no danger from him, other than of being bored to death by his unwelcome compliments.

”So your young brother has fallen for the lure,” Sir Mar ma duke said, abandoning flattery and pursuing a more scandalous line.

”Never did a lamb go more happily to the slaughter! The on-dit is that the lovely Susanna had a mind to take him away from her foster sister, and what chance did Miss Mark ham's untried charms have against such a wealth of experience?”

Polly was shocked, but tried not to show it. It had not occurred to her that Peter's flirtation with Susanna Bolt was anything more than a coincidence.

She knew a little of Lady Bolt's activities, far more in fact than her mother would have thought proper, and now that she thought about it she remembered hearing of more than one occasion when Susanna had set out to destroy a couple's happiness. But her own foster sister? It argued a particularly harsh and jealous nature.

”Indeed?” Polly murmured, refusing to rise to Sir Mar ma duke's bait.

”I do not care for this conversation, sir.”

”No?” Sir Mar ma duke's gaze moved thoughtfully to her empty gla.s.s and he summoned another full one from a pa.s.sing flunkey.

”Your pardon, I was only wis.h.i.+ng to warn you of Lady Bolt's vicious nature.”

”I should hope that her ladys.h.i.+p's diversions would not affect me, sir.”

”No?” Sir Mar ma duke said again. There was a look of malicious amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes which made Polly profoundly uncomfortable.

”Perhaps not. You will not be interested in the most piquant part of the tale, then, which is that young Peter is her ladys.h.i.+p's second choice, for she first set her sights on Lord Henry March night...”

For a moment Polly's dark gaze met Sir Mar ma- duke's, then she looked away.

She took another mouthful of fruit punch without noticing. It was so easy to take refuge in her gla.s.s to avoid difficult subjects. And the drink was so refres.h.i.+ng and unusual. Normally she was only allowed lemonade, which, now she considered it, was ridiculous for one of her age and experience.

The Dowager Countess was such a high stickler, Polly thought. Perhaps it was time she a.s.serted her independence.

”Your squalid gossip is of no interest to me, sir,” she said distantly, wis.h.i.+ng that more congenial company would present itself.

Unfortunately, Lady Sea- grave was still chatting, glancing across at her daughter with unusual and misplaced satisfaction. It would take a brave soul to interrupt Sir Mar ma duke now that he was so entrenched, Polly thought resignedly. As if to underline the point, the elderly baronet stretched his arm along the back of Polly's chair and leaned closer. His breath was stale with wine.

”Can I not please you?” Sir Mar ma duke murmured. ”When my sole intention is your delight, beauteous lady--' ” Your servant. Lady Polly. s.h.i.+pley. ” Polly almost jumped. She felt a quiver of awareness along her nerves even before her hand was taken by Lord Henry March night himself. Perhaps it was the drink, which she was now regarding suspiciously, or perhaps the effect of Lord Henry's presence, but she felt suddenly lightheaded.

”I am persuaded,” Lord Henry said gently, 'that you would do so much better dancing with me, Lady Polly. Will you do me the honour? ” For a moment, as Polly's startled dark eyes met Lord Henry's narrowed, lazy gaze, she had the oddest feeling that he knew she had been thinking of him.

Various thoughts jostled for dominance in her mind. Her first was that Lord Henry never asked her to dance. How could he, when he seldom even spoke to her? The second thought was that this was a waltz and the Dowager Countess would not approve. The third was that she was feeling ever so slightly odd-not unpleasantly odd, but definitely a little adrift. Which no doubt explained how she came to be waltzing in Lord Henry's arms before she even had chance to think about it properly.

The lilt of the music was very seductive and Lord Henry was an exceptionally good dancer. After one circuit of the floor, Polly realized with some incredulity that she felt rather delightfully abandoned, like thistledown floating on air. Lord Henry was holding her at an entirely respectable distance from his body, but nevertheless the strength of his arm about her, the unfamiliar brush of his thigh against the slippery material of her dress, was peculiarly exciting. Polly blinked slightly, aware that she was not feeling quite normal, but the thought slid away, out of reach. Normal? She felt marvelous.

”You are keeping dangerous company tonight, Lady Polly,” Lord Henry said in her ear. The thought of his lips so close to the sensitive skin of her neck sent a delicious s.h.i.+ver through Polly. She tried to pull herself together.

What on earth was wrong with her this evening?