The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,49

evident. Embarrassed by it, by what Miranda must imagine their relationship to be, Ida headed for the stairs with added stiffness. “Come on. We’d better not keep his lordship waiting.”

As it turned out, Miranda proved herself to be a woman of great talent, arranging and pinning Ida’s hair in a style far more complicated and pretty than anything she’d have been able to manage alone.

“There,” Miranda said once she’d helped Ida into her gown. “You look absolutely dazzling, miss. Just like a princess.”

Excitement bubbled within Ida’s veins. She’d never felt more dazzling than she did right now with crystal-tipped pins adorning her hair and an exquisite gown hugging her curves. She took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. This was really happening. She was actually going to attend a Society ball. Her lips curved and she almost laughed. It would be a splendid evening. Nothing would ruin it for her, not even Simon’s caustic mood.

Turning away from the mirror, Ida thanked Miranda for her help and exited her bedchamber. She descended the stairs with great care so as not to accidentally step on the hem of her gown, crossed the foyer, and entered the parlor. There she paused, her gaze meeting Simon’s the moment he turned toward her. Surprise widened his eyes for a second before something darker and far more dangerous flared to life in their golden depths. Ida’s traitorous heart leapt in response. Every nerve in her body awoke, sizzling beneath the heat of his direct regard.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. Balling her hands into fists, she fought her body’s response, only to feel her skin prick with delicious awareness the moment he stepped toward her.

“Stunning,” he murmured as he circled behind her. He stopped her from turning with him by placing his hand against her shoulder.

The nearness was too overwhelming, his rich scent of sandalwood too enticing.

“Absolutely exquisite,” he whispered close to her ear.

Ida’s eyes drifted shut. She tried to draw breath.

Resist.

She dug her nails into the palms of her hands and focused her mind on the pain.

“I thought you might appreciate this.” Something cool landed softly against her throat. Ida’s eyes flew open. She couldn’t see the necklace clearly but she could feel its weight. “Diamonds and aquamarines to match your gown.”

His breath brushed the nape of her neck, causing her to shiver. She could feel his warmth seeping into her back. There, then moving away.

She gasped in response to the sudden chill taking its place and the feeling of loss that followed. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw he’d removed himself to the sideboard where he was now in the process of fixing two drinks.

“I thought you might like a sherry while we talk.”

Ida stared at him. Her nerves were clanging together, her body aflame on account of the need he’d instilled in her with the barest amount of effort. And now he was gazing at her with a bland expression while waiting for her response. Blasted man. She reckoned he knew precisely what he was doing.

“Please,” she muttered with tight irritation. “And thank you for letting me borrow the necklace.”

His gaze hardened for a brief second, but then he smiled. “It’s a gift, Ida. Yours to keep.”

She sucked in a breath. “No. It’s too costly. I cannot accept it. It’s too much, too—”

“Relax.” His voice was suddenly sharp. He handed her one of the two drinks he’d poured. “It’s just a necklace.”

A very expensive one. The sort a man only gave to a woman from whom he hoped to gain something in return. She took her glass and almost dropped it when she felt his fingers brush against hers.

“Steady now,” he told her softly before taking a step back and adding distance.

With her heart pounding hard against her breast, Ida took a sip of the sweet Spanish wine and told herself to calm down. Simon had already promised he wouldn’t seduce her unless she invited him to.

All she had to do was maintain her resolve.

“I can say with confidence that neither Elmwood nor Nugent wrote the note Captain Murdoch gave us.”

“And Kirksdale?” Ida asked, relieved to have something else to think about.

“Unfortunately, I was unable to learn if the writing matched his. The only thing I’ve ever received from him by post was presumably written by his secretary.”

“Oh.” Now that they’d turned their attention back to the subject concerning the wrongful sentencing of her father, Ida felt more herself – less aware of the man she was with and less