the only possible choice given their circumstances. No one would believe she was simply his friend, particularly given the way he’d manhandled her. But he’d had reason—if he hadn’t kept his hands on her, she might have bolted. Or Harry Merton might have demonstrated his interest in “plowing her field” or whatever that revolting man had said.
In truth, Merton was an attractive man in his early thirties, with bright eyes and clear skin and a sunny smile. He had also appeared to be on the edge of inebriation, but for some reason Melisande wasn’t quite sure if she believed it. There was a sharpness to his gaze, above the foolish smile, that suggested there was more to Harry Merton than the fop he appeared to be.
Lady Elsmere’s chuckle was…there was no other word for it…lascivious. “I envy you, my child. I’d love a chance to taste Lord Rohan’s energy.”
She couldn’t push, tempted though she was. The Heavenly Host was the epitome of a secret organization—there was no way they’d invite her in, given her reputation, until they were really sure of her. Besides, the idea of Lady Elsmere touching Rohan was revolting. The thought of any woman touching Rohan filled her with a sharp stab of anger that was totally inexplicable. She had always prided herself on her equable frame of mind, but somehow Benedick Rohan had a genius for upsetting her.
She wasn’t going to examine that too closely. She returned the old woman’s smile. “For now he’s all mine.”
“Indeed, I am, my heart.” A voice came from behind her, and she felt the heat flood her face. His hands slid down over her bare shoulders, and in a few more inches he would have been cupping her breasts.
She let out a squeak and jumped up, half-afraid he wouldn’t let her go. But he continued with his cool, slightly teasing smile, and she wondered if she could get away with slamming her elbow into his ribs. His feet had certainly survived her previous attempt.
Her urge toward violence shocked her again, and she took a deep breath, determined to regain her equilibrium. But then he moved beside her, sliding his arm around her waist in a shockingly intimate gesture, and his hand was dangerously close to the underside of her breast. She tried to disguise her sudden intake of breath as he leaned down and breathed in her ear with a gesture that would have looked more like a nuzzle than the warning it was. “Remember we are lovers, Charity. At least try to act the part, or I’ll be forced to give them more graphic evidence.”
She moved her foot, but he sidestepped her quite neatly this time. “Come along, my pet. Lord Elsmere wants to dance with you. I warned him that it would be a challenge, but he’s more than willing to undertake it. Just make certain his hands stay above your waist, not below it. And don’t let him dance you off into a corner.”
“But I don’t want…”
“Lord Elsmere! Lady Carstairs was just telling me how much she’d adore a dance. But be gentle with her—she hasn’t had much chance to practice.”
He really was the most annoying man, she thought, giving him a tight smile as the wizened old man took her into his arms. She should have had the gaggle help her with her dancing. If this absurd partnership lasted for more than this night she’d have to practice. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t still attempt to stomp on his feet given half the chance. Any violence she could deliver on his person was earned well in advance.
She danced perfectly well with the old man, who did have a tendency to let his hands roam southward. She kept him busy talking, but he said little that could be helpful, apart from extolling the beauty of the Kent countryside and a place called Kersley Hall. After Lord Elsmere she danced with a hearty gentleman name Robert Johnson, a quadrille with Harry Merton, and by the time she finished with another waltz she was feeling quite comfortable. She’d never had much of an opportunity to dance when she was younger—her hand had not been sought during her season and Sir Thomas had been too frail to attend dances. But she’d had the requisite lessons, and by the time supper was announced her nervousness had vanished and she was quite enjoying herself.
Lord Elsmere claimed the right to take her into supper, and she went happily enough until Rohan brushed by