To his surprise, his knock was answered not by his sister’s maid but by Lady Isabella, whose crimson gown was a sight to behold. Her breasts were cupped by the bodice in a manner that all but invited a man to bury his face between them. And the skirt skimmed her curvaceous figure like a second skin. It was quite his favorite of her gowns he’d seen thus far. And he rather liked them all.
“Are you finished ogling, Your Grace?” Isabella asked tartly, startling him from his reverie. He was pleased to note a slight flush creeping up her chest into her cheeks.
Trevor cleared his throat. “I was merely admiring, Lady Isabella,” he lied. He had been ogling and was not sorry for it. “You are looking quite well this evening.” It was an understatement, but he could hardly be expected to divulge all he was thinking while his sisters stood on the other side of the room..
“Thank you,” she said inclining her head in a way that revealed more of her slender neck, tempting him to bite it. Seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil, Isabella said, “Eleanor is nearly ready. My maid is just putting the finishing touches on her coiffure.”
Isabella leaned forward to whisper confidentially, “She’s quite nervous, so anything you can do to reassure her when we come down will be greatly appreciated.”
Grateful that she was here to deal with his sister’s nerves, Trevor nodded. “Of course. I suppose it is quite a—” He lost his train of thought as he noticed the curl dipping down to kiss her shoulder.
“Quite,” Isabella replied with a quirk of her lips. “Now, what can I help you with?”
Her low voice coupled with that gown sent several lascivious notions of how she could help him running through his mind, but he shook his head to clear it. His sister was in the next room for God’s sake.
Looking down at the floor, he realized he was still holding the jewel bag. He handed it to Isabella. “I thought Eleanor might wish to wear some of Mama’s jewelry tonight,” he said. “I trust you’ll be able to choose something that is appropriate to the occasion and her age.”
Isabella’s eyes softened as she took the bag. “What a sweet brother you are,” she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “Eleanor will be ecstatic. We were just wondering what she might wear to set her apart from the other girls.”
Under the influence of that smile, Trevor thought, a man might be inspired to move mountains. Giving in to temptation, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. It was just a kiss. Though the jolt of desire it sent through him was not easy to ignore, he held it back. “Thank you for helping her,” he told Isabella. “I know she appreciates it.”
Her cheeks pink, Isabella still managed to raise a questioning brow. “And you?” she asked.
“I am quite grateful,” he replied. “I’m not quite sure how I’ll ever repay you.”
Her eyes darkened. “I can think of a few things,” she said. The aborted seduction of last evening hung in the air between them for a moment.
Then the moment passed.
Trevor squared his shoulders and gave her a brisk nod. “I will see you downstairs.”
* * *
It had been years since Isabella attended a country ball, and she found she’d forgotten that sense of unrestrained enthusiasm that separated them from their London counterparts. It was quite refreshing, she thought as she, Trevor, and Eleanor were announced by the Palmers’ very stuffy butler. Isabella much preferred the pleasant assurance of Trevor’s own majordomo.
Mr. and Mrs. Palmer had greeted them with an unbalanced sense of welcome. Mr. Palmer, though quite polite, seemed less than pleased to be in attendance at his own ball. Isabella could well imagine him enjoying a visit to the tooth drawer with more enthusiasm. Mrs. Palmer, however, made up for her husband’s dourness with her own brand of effusive welcome.
“We are ever so pleased to welcome you, Your Grace, Lady Wharton,” she gushed. “And of course, Miss Eleanor, what a delight to see you here. I am quite sure that you will find yourself in excellent company for this, your first foray into the social whirl. May I say that you look quite pretty? That gown is quite fetching, isn’t it?”
Greeted by this onslaught of chatter, Eleanor simply nodded and looked every inch the girl on the verge of making her debut. Isabella was pleased by the girl’s neat manners. And in her gown of palest pink, which was set off perfectly by her mother’s pearls, Eleanor was indeed very pretty. Isabella had little doubt that whatever local swain saw her first would be instantly smitten.
“My guest Lord Thistleback has already joined the dancing,” Mrs. Palmer said. “I’m sure you will wish to have a long chat with him about your mutual London friends.”
Before she could respond, Trevor said, “I feel sure Lady Wharton will be far too busy dancing for a long conversation.”
“Indeed,” Isabella said to the other woman, not wishing her to sense the tension that had descended upon them at the mention of Thistleback. She could only imagine Mrs. Palmer’s glee at learning her houseguest had a secret to hold over Isabella’s head. While their hostess was openly courteous to her, Isabella knew quite well that Mrs. Palmer was the sort of woman who would be jealous of anyone who might steal the spotlight from herself. She saw every other woman as a potential rival. And she would delight in seeing her rival brought low by scandal. It was simply the sort of woman she was.
“It has only been a week since I left London, Mrs. Palmer,” Isabella told the other woman with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “I feel sure that we are both up-to-date on whichever town gossip there is to be had.”
Oblivious to the tension between the two women, Mr. Palmer said, “I don’t see why you’d want to speak to the fellow. He’s as silly a man as I’ve ever met.”
Cheerful in the face of her husband’s rudeness, Mrs. Palmer tittered, “Oh, Mr. Palmer, you do say the drollest things.” Turning back to Trevor, Isabella, and Eleanor, Mrs. Palmer waved them on. “We do not wish to keep you here. Go, and enjoy yourselves.”
Taking their hostess at her word, Trevor ushered Isabella and Eleanor into the ballroom, where they saw that indeed the dancing had already begun.
“I see the Misses Green over there,” Eleanor said. “May I go speak with them, Trevor?”
The duke nodded. “Go, enjoy yourself. But do not, under any circumstances, accept any invitations to walk out on the terrace, or any other such nonsense.”
Like any girl of her age, Isabella sighed. “I am not a simpleton, Trevor.”
Then she turned and hurried over to chatter with her friends.
“Well done,” Isabella said with a laugh. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that particular admonishment since I was around Eleanor’s age.”
“As a man,” he replied with almost a growl, “I know how persuasive we can be. And I have no wish to see my sister ruined before she even makes it to London to make her debut.”
Isabella couldn’t argue with that logic. But it was the second part of his statement that caught her attention. “Then you are considering allowing her to come to London for a season? That’s wonderful!”
“It wouldn’t just be Eleanor,” he said firmly. “It would be all of us. If I am to accompany her to London, I would bring Belinda with us as well.”
He looked at Isabella intently. “Your words have not fallen on deaf ears, you know. I have been thinking quite a bit about duty and what I owe to—”
“Good god, Ormonde,” Sir Lucien interrupted, “you look as if you are talking serious business. And everyone and his cat knows that a ball is not the place for such chats. Lady Wharton, allow me to solicit you for the set that is forming before you expire from boredom.”
Wishing to hear more about Trevor’s change of heart but also knowing that it was a matter better discussed someplace less public than a ballroom, Isabella took a deep breath and smiled at Sir Lucien. He was an amiable man, and she had little doubt that he had stood friend to Trevor in the worst of times as well as the best of times. And she did love to dance. “I would be delighted, Sir Lucien,” she said, taking his outstretched hand.
Before they could step onto the ballroom floor, however, Trevor touched her on the arm. It was just a touch, but she felt it down to her toes. It was going to be so difficult to stop herself from succumbing to her own desire for the man, she thought with something like panic. She was careful not to let any of her inner turmoil show on her face, however.
“Save the first waltz for me,” Trevor told her simply. As invitations to dance went, it was hardly the most elegant. Even so, she could not stop herself from saying, “All right,” just before Sir Lucien led her onto the floor for the set that was forming.
“Careful,” Sir Lucien said as walked with her. “Don’t let the other women here see what I just saw. Else you’ll find yourself the object of gossip and a great deal of feminine ire.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said, mentally cursing herself for not hiding her feelings better.
As the strains of the song began to play, Sir Lucien merely raised his brows. He clearly did not believe her.
“Believe what you wish,” Isabella said, stepping forward to take his hand as the dance began. “I shall simply attribute your suspicions to your own feelings of a romantic nature.”
“Touché, my dear!” Sir Lucien said with a laugh. “A very nice deflection of the focus from you to me.”
“Thank you,” Isabella said with relief. Perhaps now he would drop the subject.
But she was not so lucky.
“Perhaps it is not so much something to hide,” the baronet continued when the dance brought them together again, “as something to be a bit more discreet about. I have little hope for Ormonde on that score, you know. He has never been very good at dissembling. Honest to a fault, is our Trevor.”
“Then what good would it do for me to dissemble?” Isabella asked, grateful that the music was loud enough to hide their conversation but not so loud as to prevent them from hearing each other. “If I were indeed dissembling, which I have not yet admitted is the case.”
Sir Lucien’s eyes lit with mirth. “Far be it from me to accuse a lady of untruth, Lady Wharton. Even so, I fear your partner in crime has given the game away. Trevor cannot hide his feelings to save his life. And I very much fear he’s smitten.”
At the other man’s assessment Isabella felt her heart unclench, and instead a bubble of happiness rose up in her chest, threatening to burst out from her in giddy laughter. Clamping down on her emotions, she regained her composure and blinked at Sir Lucien. “You exaggerate, surely,” she said, trying to sound skeptical.
“Perhaps,” the man said, “and perhaps not. I can only say that I’ve known him my whole life and I’ve never seen him look at another woman like he looks at you.”
Before she could question Sir Lucien further, they had to change partners and Isabella was startled to find her new partner was none other than Thistleback. Who, unfortunately, appeared to be his usual loathsome self.
“Lady Isabella,” he said, clearly not cowed in the least by their quite public location. “I hope you have reconsidered my offer of last evening.”
The man spoke as if he’d offered to purchase a horse from her instead of trying to blackmail her for something she had no control over.
“If by ‘reconsidered’ you mean ‘decided to ignore completely,’” she said coolly, “then yes, my lord.”
She saw, with some degree of amusement, his lips tighten. “I could destroy your reputation,” he said through clenched teeth. “Utterly.”
“You could,” Isabella agreed, “but you would in turn find yourself facing some serious questions about your own role in Ralph’s schemes. I have little doubt that there are some gentlemen in town who would be quite interested to know that you both made it a regular practice to use weighted dice in your gambling pursuits.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Thistleback hissed as the movement of the dance brought them closer together.
“Try me,” she said, her voice low and hard. She had spent a great deal of the night—the part where she wasn’t regretting Trevor’s scruples over summerhouse seductions—thinking about how to rout Lord Thistleback, and what she’d finally decided was that any show of weakness would simply play into his hands. Bullies would only be routed by another bully. So she was prepared to combat his insinuations with a show of force.
Fortunately, the dance returned them to their original partners at that point, and it was with some relief that Isabella took Sir Lucien’s arm again.
“What was that about?” he asked, his eyes narrowed on the back of Thistleback’s head as they promenaded. “He looks as if you just told him to go jump in the nearest lake.”
Her own gaze on Trevor as he stood chatting with a group of gentlemen, Isabella said, “Something very like. I’m afraid that Lord Thistleback is not a man who enjoys being denied.”
And determined not to let her husband’s crony ruin her evening, Isabella gave herself over to the movements of the dance.
Thirteen
From the side of the ballroom Trevor kept a watchful eye on both Eleanor and Isabella. He did his duty by dancing with a few of the wallflowers, but for the most part, he was unable to keep from watching the ladies of his own party.
Thistleback’s presence was troubling, especially considering his threats against Isabella, but there was nothing Trevor could do to make the fellow leave. He was the Palmers’ guest, and Trevor could hardly approach the man in an open ballroom and demand that he hie himself back to London. Or, better yet, to the Americas. Trevor would just need to ensure that the man didn’t harm Isabella any further.
He was waiting impatiently for the waltz Isabella had promised him when Lucien approached. His usual lighthearted countenance was marred by a troubled expression.
“I don’t suppose you saw that Thistleback approached Lady Wharton during our dance?” Lucien asked, his tone low to keep from drawing the attention of the other guests.
Trevor’s jaw clenched. From where he stood he could see Isabella performing the steps of a quadrille with Mr. Palmer. “I did not,” Trevor said, his voice equally low. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” Lucien responded. “I only know that the dance steps required her to link arms with him and when she came back to me she looked troubled and he looked smug.”