“Balderdash, Millicent, dear,” Lady Heathecoute cooed as softly as was possible given her strong voice. “We’ll forego the next party if we must. Have a dance with the earl. That’s what the Season is for, isn’t it? Dancing the night away. In fact, I believe the next one is about to start. Is this dance taken, dear? Let me see. Where is your card?”
Millicent clutched her reticule tighter and smiled sweetly at her ladyship. “Ah—no. There’s no need to look. I’m sure this dance is open.”
“Then it’s settled, if you are free, my lord?” the viscountess said.
“Indeed, I am.” He extended his arm for Millicent. “May I have this dance?”
Not trusting herself to speak, there was nothing for her to do but graciously agree with a slight nod. She lightly placed her hand on the crook of his arm and walked with him to the dance floor.
“It’s impolite to decline a dance with an earl,” he said.
Millicent turned to look at him and saw by the glint in his eyes and the half grin on his lips that he was teasing her, not reprimanding her for ill manners.
She lifted her chin a notch. “Not when the earl’s flagrant reputation precedes him.”
“So you’ve been in London long enough to hear all the tittle-tattle.”
“Surely not all there is, but enough to make me wary of you and a few others. Besides what I’ve heard about you, I have firsthand knowledge of your abilities.”
“My abilities, Miss Blair?” he questioned. “I’m not certain which abilities you are referring to.”
“Your roguish ones, sir.”
He smiled again, one that was full of genuine amusement. It should have irritated Millicent immensely that he found such pleasure in her discomfort, but for reasons unknown to her his attitude didn’t bother her.
But she wasn’t prepared to let him know that. “You were positively forward last night when you happened upon me in that darkened hallway.”
“Forward? Did you think so?”
“Certainly.”
“I thought I behaved like a perfect gentleman.”
They walked by a group of people and Millicent noticed that every one of them watched her as they passed. Her aunt would not like it that she had this kind of attention. Oh, how had she caught the eye of one of the Terrible Threesome? And what was she going to do about it?
She drew in her breath with a soft gasp and asked, “Perfect?”
“Yes.”
“A gentleman?”
“Yes.”
“What rubbish you speak, sir. It was unquestionably bold of you to have brushed my hand when you gave me your pencil last evening. A true gentleman would not have allowed that to happen.”
He turned to her, a well-pleased expression on his face. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“How could I not? It was so… unexpected,” she said, remembering the delightful tingle that jolted through her at his brief touch.
Lord Dunraven nodded to a beautiful woman and a gentleman dressed in a military uniform before answering her by saying, “And we were both wearing gloves. You are obviously a very sensitive woman, Miss Blair. I shall remember that.”
Millicent could have bitten her tongue out for even bringing up the incident. It was clear she would not get the upper hand with this man. Why had she mentioned that touch? Because she hadn’t been able to forget about it. The contact was no more than a butterfly’s brush, but she had felt it all the way down to her toes. He was right, she was sensitive to everything about him. His mere presence had her senses on alert.
“I said nothing because I was sure you had touched me by mistake, and I didn’t want to alarm you.”
“It would take a great deal more than a brush of hands with a beautiful woman to alarm me, I assure you. How thoughtful of you to think of my feelings, but no, Miss Blair, I caressed your hand by design not mistake.”
He smiled that knowing smile as they took their places on the crowded dance floor and waited for the music to begin.
“You are no gentleman, sir.”
“Sometimes. I thought you would pretend forever that I hadn’t touched you. You surprise me, Miss Blair, and I like surprises.”
“You wear your title of rake well, my lord. Not only did you stroke my hand, but you deigned to blow me a kiss. It was most inappropriate for you to do so.”
“I thought it dashing.”
“Dashing? I believe mischievous is the word you meant to say, for surely it was.”
He laughed softly, attractively. Once again Millicent felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach. As much as she