Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,8
face. “You pompous, conceited, braying ass!” she ground out. Inwardly she mourned. For a moment she had loped he knew nothing of her wretched reputation. It was all too clear he was aware of the on-dits and was indeed one to take up the knife and twist it further. “How dare you approach me! You are correct when you say it is the highest piece of impertinence, and I’ll thank you to quit my sight.”
She quivered with anger while the Viscount laughed delightedly. Lady Elizabeth was aware that they had become the subject of many inquisitive eyes and whisperings about the room. She ground her teeth in irritation. Though her reputation had again preceded her, her own wretched tongue gave purchase to the gossip. In all fairness, never had she met a gentleman such as this stranger. She wished she knew his purpose. His laughter made her rage burn hotter. She raised her arm to fling the contents of the punch glass she held into his face.
The stranger was faster than she. He caught her arm, his hand a steel trap, heavily bearing her hand down until the cup emptied its rose-colored contents onto the floor, some splashing to stain the flounce of her gown. She did not say a word as she watched the last drops fall. She raised her eyes to the gentleman before her, trying desperately to still her rapid breathing. There was whispered silence throughout the room.
The Viscount watched her with a strange, twisted smile upon his lips. She was glorious, a seductive blend of fire and ice. It was no wonder the staid and simpering society he knew was appalled, for this woman was no mealy-mouthed miss to follow meekly the dictates of society. To be sure, she was an uncut diamond. The breath in his chest tightened at the thought he was to be her gem cutter. In the background, he was dimly aware of activity by the orchestra where Lord Amblethorp was ordering them to strike up some music, anything to end the awful silence. The orchestra in a flurry played the next piece on their stands. It was a waltz.
“You know, my dear,” St. Ryne began conversationally, “you almost disappointed me by your speechlessness when I first approached. You lived up to my expectations, however—and your reputation I might add—and came through like a storm on the isle of Jamaica with its wind, lightning, and giant raindrops. One may hate the storms, but afterward the world is beautiful; clean and refreshed. They are playing a waltz. Come, let us join.”
Lady Elizabeth was taken aback by his reaction and more than a little ashamed of her actions but she clenched her teeth and stood rigidly. “I do not waltz. Not now, not ever, and particularly, not with you.”
“I applaud your reticence,” he commended affably. “It is still considered by some to be a fast dance; nevertheless, on this occasion you will, and with me.” So saying, he grabbed her arm, propelling her to the dance floor.
Lady Elizabeth walked like a broken doll but soon threw up her head in defiance as she heard the whispered gasps about the room. She went readily then into Justin’s arms though she scowled up at him. St. Ryne laughed yet did not say anything else as he tightened his grasp on her waist and began to twirl her around the room.
“You dance very prettily,” he remarked some moments later, “for someone who hasn’t had the practice. Which is fine with me since I do not dance much myself. Only please don’t step on my feet.”
Lady Elizabeth gasped and tried to pull away from him, but he only held her more firmly.
“I do not care to dance,” she declared, glaring her challenge at him as she stopped in the middle of the dance floor causing other couples to misstep as they tried to dance around them. She was amazed at her own audacity; such behavior on her part would set the cat among the pigeons for sure. Inwardly she cringed at the possible repercussions this incident might cause; however, she defiantly stood her ground.
St. Ryne, a dangerous glint in his eye, bent over to whisper in her ear “If you knew me better, you would not try such antics and if you don’t care to be ignominiously carried off the dance floor on my shoulder, you will dance again.”
Looking into his eyes, Lady Elizabeth saw the truth in his statement and with ill grace allowed herself to rejoin