The Dangerous Love of a Rogue. Jane Lark

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       Chapter 3

      Pride in his self-discipline burned in Drew’s chest as he strolled into the Wiltshires’ ballroom. He’d avoided Miss Mary Marlow for two weeks and now the moment to return was ripe.

      Lord Wiltshire, The Duke of Arundel was her uncle. The girl would be feeling relaxed among her family and find it harder to be false and he hoped easier to establish a moment to escape as she’d done at the Jerseys’.

      Looking down from the top of the entrance stairs, at the end of the Wiltshires’ ornate ballroom, he briefly scanned the crowd of heaving humanity, the ton, England’s elite, in all their shining glory.

      If her uncle knew Drew’s intent he would never have received an invitation, but he ‘d kept away from Miss Marlow in public since last year and so, to her family, he was simply another name on a list to fill the room and enable every society hostess’s wish for a crush.

      He saw Miss Marlow; she was not far from the foot of the stairs and when his name was called she looked up. He rarely entered a room without drawing the attention of women, he ignored the others and smiled at her, holding her gaze.

      She had been looking for him, for two weeks, and she had missed him, he could see it in her eyes; they were sparkling bright with relief.

      He smiled at her, and for the first time in nearly a year she gave him a little self-conscious, confused smile back.

      Her eyes asked him questions as she kept looking. “Where have you been? Should I seek you out and ask?”

      Yes, you should, Mary.

      He let her gaze go and smiled at the room in general to avoid her family noticing the exchange. If they whisked her away to the country to avoid him, his game would be off entirely for this year.

      Drew wasted his first hour in the card room. This early in the evening she would be too much in demand to risk slipping away.

      The supper bell rang and the music died, then guests surged into the room set aside for refreshments. Drew sauntered in a little late, at the rear; a gentleman acquaintance with whom he’d been playing cards at his side, a friend he’d picked out for the sole purpose of gaining entry into Miss Marlow’s family group.

      If he was going to tempt her he needed to throw her at least a little more bait. His companion was an old mutual friend of Drew’s and Pembroke’s, from their days in Paris, during their dissipated grand tour. Days the Duke of Pembroke preferred to forget. Like Pembroke, Roger Harris had turned prude, and therefore Harris was the perfect camouflage, he would be welcome even if Drew was not.

      On cue Roger called, “Pembroke!”

      The family group were sittting about several tables. Drew ought to be daunted, but daunted was not within him, what he felt was a swell of anticipation, exhilaration. This was a bold move. He was walking a line, willing Miss Marlow to notice him while he wished her relatives to spot nothing out of the ordinary.

      His quarry sat amidst her uncles and aunts on her brother’s table.

      “Roger! I did not know you were in town.” Pembroke rose and strode the few steps towards them. “Is your wife with you?”

      With Pembroke’s attention focused on their mutual friend, Drew let his gaze deliberately meet Miss Marlow’s. He caught it just for an instant, a moment in which his heart forgot to beat as her pale blue gaze struck his – summer skies and azure Italian seas. She was still deliberating. “Should I seek you out?”

       Yes!

      Her beauty literally kicked him at times. He forgot to breathe.

      “No, I’m afraid Miriam is in her last month and not fairing too well…” Harris babbled on about his family.

      Drew nodded marginally to Miss Marlow. A blush stained her pale skin red. Drew let a hint of a smile form at one corner of his lips then looked away, nodded to Harris, lifted his hand in parting and walked on. He wanted her to watch him; it was his signal.

      Satisfied the bait had been set. Drew helped himself to items from the buffet, but did not bother with a plate, he did not wish to spend the supper hour eating. He stopped to acknowledge a few acquaintances, and then extricated himself from several ex-lovers, before turning to walk from the room.

      He glanced at Miss Marlow as he passed.

      She was watching. Would she follow?

      He gave her an encouraging echo of a smile.

      “Should I?” The thought shone in her eyes.

      His absence had done its job, all her pretence had gone.

      Striding on across the empty dance floor he looked back. Her gaze followed him still. He smiled again and nodded. This is your chance, Mary, darling…

      Deliberately picking his path to keep within her view he walked to a set of open French doors and stepped into the tepid night air, looking back one last time, throwing her a calling card.

      He was too far away now to be sure she still watched, but something in the turn of her head told him she did.

      Come on little beauty, follow.

      Outside he walked to the end of the Wiltshires’ stone terrace, he could not go too far, she would not find him.

      The terrace, like the ballroom, was deserted.

      He leant his buttocks against the stone rim of the balustrade.

      The dark house walls framed the empty ballroom and the view into the dining room, like a picture, with huge chandeliers illuminating the scene within.

      It made the terrace darker.

      He withdraw a slim cigar and a match from the pocket of his evening coat, lifted the cigar to his lips and struck the match on the stone beside his hip, then held the flame to the tip of the cigar and sucked until it СКАЧАТЬ