“You could always make him the offer,” she said, her fan fluttering until it threatened to fly from her fingers. “I have heard the rumor that he is on the hunt of a fortune.”
“An absurd rumor, unfortunately,” Mary bemoaned. “He has been spreading enough money about town to reassure the most suspicious of matrons that he is deep in the pocket. I assure you if he were in the market I would have already purchased his services.” There was a faint pause as Mary turned to regard her with knowing brown eyes. “If you had not snatched him up first.”
Simone stiffened in shock. “Me?”
Although five years older than Simone, the widow had taken her under her wing when she had first arrived in London. She had not only helped Simone establish her image as the “Wicked Temptress,” but she had helped to choose the select circle of friends that would ensure her success.
She did, however, possess an uncanny habit of speaking her mind with amazing frankness.
“I have seen how your gaze follows him.”
Simone gave a loud sniff. “He is arrogant, opinionated and far too aware of his own charms.”
Mary gave a low laugh as her gaze returned to the ebony-haired gentleman.
“What does that have to do with anything? He is delectable.”
“He is passable, I suppose.”
“You do not fool me. You are no more immune than the rest of us poor females.”
Simone’s eyes darkened. Unlike Mary she did not allow herself to be prey to her desires. She did not tumble into lust with each new gentleman who appeared upon the horizon, nor did she readily entangle herself in sordid affairs.
Not even with a gentleman who made her skin tingle and her heart race.
She remained in complete control of herself at all times.
Complete control.
“I assure you that I am utterly immune,” she retorted in tight tones. “Although ...”
Mary regarded her with a hint of curiosity. “What?”
“I would not deny a desire to challenge that male arrogance. He is far too confident that he is irresistible.”
“Perhaps because he is irresistible,” Mary pointed out.
“Fah.”
The dark eyes sparkled in a taunting manner at Simone’s confident manner. “Pretend to yourself if you wish, Simone, but do not be surprised to discover yourself burned after toying with such dangerous flames.”
For no reason at all Simone felt a swirl of unease rush through her stomach.
She did not wish to be reminded of the danger that shimmered about Mr. Ravel like a cloak of warning. He had offered a challenge that she could not ignore. Not without appearing a coward. Something she could not bear.
“Save your sympathies for Mr. Ravel. He will be in need of them,” she said in tones far more daring than she felt.
Mary laughed in open disbelief. “We shall see.”
“We shall, indeed.” Simone snapped her fan shut as the music came to an end. It was time to teach Mr. Ravel she was not to be so easily discounted, she told herself, even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her she was being a fool. “Excuse me.”
Keeping her gaze covertly trained upon the elegant gentleman, Simone threaded her way through the guests that filled the ballroom. She determinedly ignored those who attempted to attract her attention as she angled toward the dance floor directly in the path of Mr. Ravel. He had managed to avoid her for the past hour. He would not be allowed to escape upon this occasion.
Hoping that no one could note the rapid beat of her heart or the manner her hands clutched the folds of her crimson silk gown she stepped directly in front of him.
With a graceful ease he managed to halt and offer a smooth bow before rising and regarding her with his midnight gaze.
“Ah, Lady Gilbert.”