Danger Wears White (17 page)

How stupid could she be? When she got back to her room, she’d stick a pin in that damned list and take the one it hit. As long as it was no relation of his.

Shoving past someone, ignoring the yelp of anger, she reached the princess’s side just as that lady turned around. “Why, Miss Thane, you appear a little disheveled. Is everything well with you?”

Instead of yelling, “No! A man I thought cared for me turned out to be the worst kind of liar!” she forced a smile and bowed her head. “A trifle warm, ma’am, that is all. I came back to see if there was anything you required.”

“I don’t think so. Why, here is someone I should introduce you to.” She leaned closer and murmured, “He is one of the gentlemen on your list. I had hoped to meet some of them tonight. Better than choosing by name alone, eh?”

Just as if he’d given her a great treat. Bracing herself, she turned to face her nemesis, the man she had given her virginity to, the man she would have done anything for—until five minutes ago.

Tony—Valentinian—was wearing blue. Gorgeous, expensive blue, a dark blue heavy ribbed silk, lined in extravagant white. His waistcoat was white, too, embroidered with silver and spangles, fastened with buttons that glittered. Probably crystals, although this magnificence could command diamonds. He wore a formal snowy white wig over his natural dark hair. But he was unmistakably the man she’d kissed, caressed, and removed her clothes for.

His eyes gleamed as brightly as the pin at his throat that fastened the neat folds of his snowy neckcloth. His mouth, currently set in a firm line, was the one she’d kissed so passionately.

Her betrayer and the man she still wanted with far too much need. She should turn her back, but that would lead to gossip. She couldn’t afford gossip.

Oblivious to the daggers glares Imogen shot at Tony, the princess introduced them.

“Miss Thane, may I present to you Major Antoninus Beaumont? Major, this is Miss Imogen Thane, lately arrived in London. I believe you may have something in common.”

The final arch response brought Imogen back to earth as Tony bowed to her, his gestures far more graceful than she’d imagined him capable of. She frowned. “I thought you were Valentinian Shaw.”

“What? No. Oh!” His voice was the same, deep and warm. “He’s my cousin. I was with him when Marcus—Lord Malton—offered to introduce us.”

Her jaw dropped. “So you really are Tony?”

“I really am.” He glanced around. “Miss Thane, would you care to take a turn around the room?” He turned his attention to the princess and bowed. “Your protégée appears a trifle—warm. Perhaps a drink would help, or a short stroll.”

“Indeed I was just remarking on her appearance myself. Pray do take her.” The princess smiled warmly. “Take your time. Major Beaumont, I have not seen you at Richmond yet. I have some horseflesh I think you’ll want to examine. I’d appreciate your opinion.”

“Your highness, you are a complete hand, the consummate matchmaker,” he said gravely, and the princess went off into a peal of laughter. “I appreciate, however, your kind offer.”

Holding out his arm, he appeared the most elegant follower of fashion. Imogen laid her hand on his arm, since he seemed to expect it, and when he walked away, she went with him.

“I thought—” she broke off. He’d said he was a humble soldier. Well, she’d mentally added the “humble” part. But surely he wasn’t wealthy enough to afford what he was wearing. “Where did you get your clothes?”

He stifled a laugh. “My tailor has a shop on Bond Street. I fear I don’t wear the military get-up since I sold out, although I’m still entitled to use my rank. Compelled, almost.”

“But I thought—“

“We will discuss what you thought in a moment, if you please.” He led her through to the supper-room, but they didn’t stop, other than to collect a glass of wine.

They went through the door at the far end. Here groups of people were sitting and talking. A few looked his way and he smiled and nodded, but didn’t stop. The next room contained a state bed. Imogen knew enough to realize nobody ever used the bed, and in any case, some people stood around in here, too, though they were looking at the furnishings.

“The further along the enfilade you go the more privileged you are.”

She bit back her response that she didn’t give a fig for the enfilade.

He continued smoothly, displaying all the town polish she’d thought him incapable of. “This being a town house, this is where it ends. Except that there’s a small cabinet room here.” He opened a door and ushered her in, his hand at the small of her back.

He produced a key and locked it. “The best thing about attending a ball in a relative’s house, or a soon-to-be one, is that you know your way around. One of the best things about soldiering is that it gives you some skills not usually associated with a gentleman’s education.” He spoke smoothly, but a slight tremor marred his tones.

Normally she’d consider this a charming little room that contained a small sofa, a table, and an elaborate cabinet. “This is where the duke keeps his special treasures. We will not, if you please, waste our time with them.”

He turned her, so she faced him. His hands were warm on her elbows, while he drank her in greedily with his eyes, his gaze roaming over her face, down her body until she flushed with self-awareness. With a groan, he hauled her close and slammed his mouth down on hers.

This was the Tony she knew, the man who’d shown her the path to infinite passion in that little room under the Long Gallery. Taken straight back there, she responded, her mouth opening to admit his thrusting tongue. Their clothes were too elaborate for her to feel much except the power of his body, but she had no doubt that his cock had risen to meet her softening cleft.

Tears sprang to her eyes, even through her passion. She could not allow him to play her like a fiddle. Had to resist. Planting both hands against his chest, she pushed. He didn’t go far, but at least her action broke their kiss.

“Now what, sweetheart, was all that about?”

She drew back her hand and, with all the force she could muster, brought it flat across his face.

His yelp of pain and shock went a small way to assuaging her confusion and distress.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a major?” Spinning away from him, she strode to the cabinet and stared a small bird done in carved stones, willing her tears to subside. “‘My tailor is in Bond Street?’ And why didn’t you tell me your real name or how wealthy you obviously are? You fooled me properly, sir, and I should thank you for opening my eyes to the world!”

Driving her hand into her pocket, she dragged out the list and screwed it into a ball, hurling it into his face. He had one hand to his cheek, his eyes shocked, but he automatically caught the paper and glanced at it. He smoothed the paper open.

“I was so worried about you! Were you really ill, or was that a ruse too? Are you a spy, after all? Is it your nature to lie to people?” When tears of anger filled her eyes, she dashed them away. “I’m ten kinds of idiot. You and your relatives have played me for one and I fell right into your trap.”

Was Julius really her friend, or manipulating her to do what he wanted?

Tony took his eyes off her to stare at the list.

“You ruined me, so now I have to do something? Marry you? Is that it?” she demanded.

He flicked a glance at her, his gaze cold. “Do you want answers?”

“Answers?” She nearly spat at him. They’d taken her, used her. They probably wanted her married. What was worse, she’d fallen in with everything they said.

Hurt ripping through her, she shoved past him and stormed from the room. After the first chamber, brought to a sharp awareness of the startled looks shot her way, she slowed her pace and rearranged her pose, putting up her chin and adopting the attitude of slight superiority that was
de rigeur
here.

She went through to the supper room. The delicate scent of fresh-baked pastry made her stomach churn. The small group of people including Lord Malton still sat, chatting, where she’d left them. She didn’t want to risk Tony joining them again, so she carried on.

In the ballroom she almost collided with Lord William Dankworth. The only sensible thing she could think of saying was, “Oh!”

With a warm smile, he put his hands on her elbows and held her steady, releasing her before she could object.

The last time she’d seen him was in her house, dragging her and her inamorato out of the little room. Would he betray her? Gossip about where he’d seen her last?

His eyes narrowed, and then he relaxed and swept a bow. “Madam, I beg your pardon. My clumsiness is unforgiveable.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, fighting to regain some semblance of composure. “Not at all. You’re forgiven.”

When she moved to walk around him, he subtly shifted to make it impossible.

“I cannot believe that you are even more beautiful in town than you were in the country.”

She faced the bull head-on. Better to be gored now than walk away and be skewered in the back.

The last time she’d seen him, he was demanding Tony placed into his custody. “We met under less than propitious circumstances.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “A matter that has entirely passed from my mind.”

What she’d learned tonight, what had rocked the foundations of her thinking, made her question everything that had gone before. Julius and his not-so-humble relative Tony wanted a mysterious document, one they wouldn’t even tell her about, and everything Julius and Tony had done was for that. Tony could have seduced her just to get it.

Lord Dankworth could be speaking the truth. He could have her interests at heart after all.

She didn’t know what to believe any more. Instead of distressing her, the knowledge made her furious. How dare they dance around her and keep her from the truth?

So she gave Lord Dankworth, who was, after all, a handsome man, a beaming smile. “I’m here as a maid of honor to Princess Amelia. I should get back to her.”

“Congratulations.” If he was surprised, he didn’t betray it. “Allow me to escort you.”

When he held out his arm, she had two choices. Snub him or accept. She was affiliated with Julius, Lord Winterton, and his family members were the enemies of the Dankworths. He probably knew that, and this was his way of thumbing his nose at them.

Damn all of them. She’d do as she saw fit. She accepted his offer with a gracious smile.

“Daring of you,” he said with a smile. “Do I address you as Lady Imogen?”

She shook her head. “For goodness’ sake, no. I’m Miss Thane.”

“Thus warning me not to call you ‘my lady.’” His smile turned sympathetic and his gray eyes warmed. “You are amongst friends, my lady. Don’t worry, I won’t call you that in anyone’s hearing.” His step halted and he turned to face her more fully. “Would you care to dance, Miss Thane?”

* * * *

Tony stormed out of the small room after Imogen, but he was too late to stop her going off with William Dankworth. He ground his teeth, but he could do nothing.

He wanted to talk to her about that damned list. He’d recognized her writing. Fool that he was, he still had the one she’d made of provisions. Now she was making a list of prospective husbands? He’d show her. He’d claimed her first, and he was damned if he’d stand aside and let someone else have her.

Rather than provide an obvious show for the great and the good, he returned to the supper room in search of alcohol. All he found was wine, but it would achieve his purpose if he drank enough of it.

Someone touched his shoulder. “I’d lay off that if I were you. You’ll have an appalling headache in the morning. Much better to stick to good French brandy, dear boy.”

Slamming the glass down on the table, he spun around, more than ready to do battle. His cousin Valentinian Shaw backed off, holding up both hands in a gesture of peace, grinning, God damn him.

“Steady, my bully. If that’s how you feel, you’d better come with me. There’s a little hell not too far from here where you can drink all night. The girls are clean, too.”

Tony glared at Val. “I just need the drink, and I can get that at home.”

Val frowned. “What maggot has got into your head? You’re one of the least volatile of the Emperors usually.” His face cleared. “Ah! It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

Tony shrugged and picked up his glass. “In a way.”

Val reached for a glass of his own. Someone had poured several glasses of wine, probably intending to fill the trays that servants were carrying. At this rate there wouldn’t be any left. “So is she angry with you?”

“Yes. And now she’s off flirting with a Dankworth.”

“I should take care what you say.” Malton, another cousin, spoke from behind him. The one he’d seen earlier with Imogen. He wished he hadn’t interrupted now. “Matters are afoot with that family. We should discuss this in private, should we not?”

“Plenty of places here,” Malton said. “But since I suspect it will be a long conversation, maybe we should defer it until tomorrow.”

Realizing just what he’d have to confess if he decided to let his cousins into the whole plot, Tony decided to defer the whole thing. Indefinitely. “I want to speak to Julius, but he’s out of town. When he gets back, we’ll talk.”

Malton’s mouth hardened and small lines bracketed it. “If it involves Dankworths, yes, we certainly will.”

Another time Tony would have pursued the reaction. Malton did not customarily exercise himself with the Jacobite question.

“Should I call Nick?” Malton asked.

“No,” Tony said. His brother was the last person he wanted involved in this mess. “We should wait until Julius gets back. His discovery could change everything.”

When Tony strode through to the ballroom, intent on leaving the gathering, he spied a sight that enraged him. His brother Nick had claimed her, and now she was looking at him as if he were her savior as they danced together.

Almost he would have paced across the dance floor and snatched Imogen from Nick, but that would give rise to the kind of gossip he preferred to avoid. Gossip grew annoying, especially when it couldn’t be ignored.

Instead of leaving, he waited until the dance concluded and his brother led Imogen to the edge of the floor. Where he was waiting. Close by a couch full of matrons fanned themselves and watched. Their gossip quietened to a desultory word or two and then stopped altogether.