promptly began to smolder. Her belly clenched with unease. She knew a predator when she saw one.
“Miss Archer.”
To her dismay, Lady Lingham’s fan was beckoning.
She approached the pair reluctantly.
The countess appraised her with a deliberate glance, her mouth smiling as if she were greeting a long-lost friend. “Miss Archer. How splendid you look tonight,” she said. “It’s a Celeste, is it not?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Consider yourself fortunate,” said Lady Lingham. “Her designs are unforgiving.” She pointed her fan at her stunning companion. “Miss Archer, allow me to introduce Lord Tristan Ballentine. Lord Tristan, it’s a pleasure to present Miss Archer.”
Lord Ballentine dipped his head. A diamond stud winked at Annabelle from in his right ear.
“Lord Tristan has just returned from a ghastly little war in the colonies,” Lady Lingham said. “He received the Victoria Cross for outstanding bravery on the battlefield a few days ago.”
“You are humbling me, my lady,” Ballentine said, not sounding humbled at all. His eyes were busy examining Annabelle’s cleavage. “How come I have never made your acquaintance before, miss? I’m usually familiar with all the great beauties of the ball.”
Lady Lingham pursed her fine lips. “Miss Archer is from the country.”
He looked up and raised a brow. “The country? Whereabouts?”
“Kent, my lord,” Annabelle said.
“Lovely,” he said blandly. “Will you do me the honor of the next dance, and tell me all about that quaint place?”
That was the last thing she wanted. He couldn’t be much older than her, but there was a depraved edge to his mouth that only came with a life of utter dissolution.
“I’m afraid I have a touch of a headache.”
His mouth quirked. “From not dancing a single dance yet?”
That left her speechless. A gentleman wouldn’t press a woman, lady or not. He’d certainly not lead on that he had been watching her. Then again, he didn’t seem to stand on protocol—he had an earring.
“I’m a rather clumsy dancer,” she said. “I fear partnering with me would endanger your feet.”
“Beautiful women usually endanger a man one way or another,” he said. “I tend to find it worth the trouble.”
“How valiant. I can see how the Victoria Cross has come to pass.”
That had been a mistake. Ballentine’s lips pulled into a slow smile, the way a superior fighter might smile just before he picked up a gauntlet. “Indeed,” he drawled, “I cannot help it, the valiance. It’s my family motto, you see—Cum Vigor et Valor.”
No doubt he thought he was outrageously charming, and to someone other than her, he might be.
He presented his arm.
She glared at it. She could not refuse now without causing a scene.
“Oh, do us all a favor and dance with the man, child,” Lady Lingham tutted. “Ballentine never takes no for an answer and we will be bantering coyly until the morning hours if you don’t take a turn with him.”
Perhaps there was a section in Debrett’s Etiquette Manual on how to fend off a joint attack by a countess and a viscount. If there was, she hadn’t read it.
Slowly, she placed her hand on Ballentine.
Lady Lingham smiled and tapped the scoundrel’s shoulder with her fan. “Do behave yourself.”
The first notes of the music already filled the air.
A waltz.
She promptly forgot her displeasure and felt a sting of panic. She had not waltzed in over seven years.
A big, warm hand settled on her waist.
“Eyes on me, darling.” Ballentine’s silky voice came from high above and she tipped back her head to face him. He really was absurdly tall.
And then her heart stumbled over itself.
Over Ballentine’s right shoulder, her gaze locked with Montgomery’s.
He stood right above her on the second floor at the balcony railings, his eyes blazing slits of silver.
She yanked her gaze away, fixing it on Lord Ballentine’s tanned throat. It was a very fine throat, but it managed to hold her attention for all of three seconds, and then she glanced back.
Montgomery was gone.
The music picked up, and Lord Ballentine swept her into the first turn. Her worries about having forgotten all the steps quickly proved needless—the viscount could have partnered a sack of flour and made it look good. He led her with a firm hand, a languid grace in his movements that was unusual in a man of his size.
“Is it true, then,” he asked, “you have no idea who I am? No rumors have blackened your opinion of me beforehand?” He was watching her with lion eyes.
How long was a waltz? Surely she could handle him for a couple of minutes.
“I know that you have