could think up a response—anything to keep him from delving any further—the assembly seemed to shift in one direction. The sudden change in the atmosphere brought her back to her senses, and she blinked, finding that supper had been announced. Everyone was now making their way to the parted doors leading into the Covington’s opulent dining room.
Pursing his lips, Mr. Burke crooked his arm in her direction, sending horror lancing through her. Something else she hadn’t counted on when accepting his offer to dance—her partner for the before-supper dance would also be her escort into dinner.
Calliope couldn’t think of anything she’d like less—except perhaps having a tooth extracted or stepping barefoot on a pebble. Her hopes for sitting beside Mr. Lewes dashed, she resigned herself to more time in her courtesan’s company, when all she wanted was to be away from him.
As they approached the dining room, Diana appeared at her side on Hastings’s arm. Eyes bright and cheeks flushed, she grinned at Calliope as if she could hardly contain her excitement.
“I daresay you’ve achieved your goal tonight, sister,” she whispered. “Your dance with Mr. Burke cannot have failed to escape his notice. Goodness, if I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you were actually attracted to one another.”
Calliope flinched, one hand coming up to her throat, but a quick glance put her at ease. No one had overheard them. However, she was now horrified that her sister thought she had any interest whatsoever in Mr. Burke.
“What on Earth are you talking about?” she demanded, keeping her voice low.
“Do you mean you hadn’t noticed? Darling, no one could take their eyes off you and Mr. Burke during your waltz. I doubt any of us would have been surprised if the two of you began shooting off sparks. It’s all anyone is talking about.”
“Nonsense,” she mumbled, though her protest was a feeble one.
Now that Diana mentioned it, she could feel the eyes on her, and heard the occasional whisper. Holding her head high, she ignored it as she always did.
So what if she and her courtesan had caused a bit of a stir? If it made Mr. Lewes pay closer attention to her, then their dance would have served its purpose. If people chose to derive romantic notions from what they’d seen, then so be it.
As for Mr. Burke, she would simply tolerate him until her own ends were achieved. Then, she would leave him behind and never think of him—or the unsettling effect he had on her—ever again.
By the afternoon following the Covington’s ball, Nick was inundated with messages and invitations to more soirees for the next several weeks. Thorpe had been delivering them by the handful, his typically stoic expression holding a hint of humor. Apparently, the invitations he’d received before were nothing more than an afterthought. No hostess had expected him to show his face in any room where desperate matrons were shoving their virginal daughters under the noses of any male with a pulse. Now that he’d appeared at a ball and made a public spectacle of himself with Calliope, everyone wanted his attendance at their next gathering.
With an annoyed huff, he tossed aside the twelfth invitation to arrive in the past few hours and ran his fingers through his hair. Here lay the proof of why taking Calliope Barrington as a client had been a terrible idea. Aside from the fact that their arrangement barred him from making his way between her thighs, there was the side-effect of everyone who mattered in London speculating that he was on the hunt for a wife. What other reason could there be for all the invitations? He had opened the night waltzing with an unmarried woman before escorting her to supper. Then, he’d spent the other half of the ball partnering other ladies, because it was far too soon for him to make Calliope his only partner for an entire night.
But, what a partner she had been.
Slouching in his chair, he let his mind take him back to their dance. From the moment he’d seen her standing at Lewes’s side, vibrant and sumptuous in yellow silk, he had been transfixed. No woman in the room could compare in their drab pastels, their charms unremarkable when contrasted with her undeniable allure. Then, she’d let him take her into his arms for the waltz and that damned aroma of vanilla and roses had assaulted his senses.
She had been as stiff as a plank of wood at first, but then