on the proviso that she is seated next to you.’ There was an excitement in Razeby’s eyes as he had paced the drawing room of Linwood’s apartment. ‘So much for your denials that anything happened between the two of you on the green-room balcony, you sly dog!’
‘We exchanged polite conversation, nothing more.’
‘I do not know what you said to her, but evidently she liked it. She has never attended one of my dinners previously. Indeed, she has never attended any dinner held by a gentleman.’ He had given a wry smile. ‘God only knows why, but it seems that the divine Miss Fox is interested in you, Linwood.’
Linwood had shaken his head to deny it, but Razeby’s words had kindled something within him. Since then the pulse of desire that he felt for Venetia Fox had beat all the harder. What man would not respond to a woman like her?
‘Naturally I sent a note back by return, saying that the seating arrangements would be to her preference and that I looked forward to seeing her.’
The two men had looked at one another.
‘You cannot let me down, Linwood. You will have to come now.’ Razeby smiled before adding, ‘To have Venetia Fox grace my little soirée will be quite the coup. And you do owe me one.’
And so here Linwood was, waiting only for her.
He stood alone, the glass of champagne in his hand untouched, the bubbles rising in a riotous frenzy through the pale golden liquid. All around him the conversation buzzed loudly. Snatches of other people’s conversations reached his ears. Men’s talk of horses, gaming and politics. Women’s, of fashion and wealth and men. There was the chink of glass and silver as footmen glided silently through the small crowd, topping up glasses. And the high, tinkling, affected laughs of the women, mistresses and actresses and courtesans, not a respectable one amongst them. The latter were all beautiful creatures, all expensively and provocatively attired, their necklines so low as to reveal nipples that had been rouged to attract even more attention, the skirts revealing, even transparent in some cases. It was most certainly a demi-monde affair. And then all at once the talking seemed to fade away to leave a hush.
He saw the almost imperceptible effect that rippled through the room the instant she appeared. All eyes riveted to the door. In the men there was a sudden gleam of both interest and appreciation, a puffing out of chests, a preening, a sharpening of expression that was almost predatory. And beside them the change did not go unnoticed by the women who stood by their sides. While their men’s darkened with desire, the women’s eyes narrowed. Linwood did not need to look to know that it was Venetia Fox that stood there in the doorway, but he looked anyway...and was not sorry that he did. The murmur of conversation began again.
* * *
Venetia saw Linwood almost immediately. He was standing by the farthest window, alone, unsmiling, emanating an air of such dark, brooding intensity as if to ward off any that might approach him. Their eyes met through the crowd and her stomach tumbled and swooped and that tiniest of moments stretched and expanded to fill the room and render it empty save for the two of them. With every beat of her heart she could feel something of him calling to her, every thud that reverberated through her chest; inside knowledge spinning a false sense of connection between them.
‘Miss Fox, so delighted you could come this evening.’ Razeby’s voice smashed the illusion, bringing her back to reality, allowing her to break free from Linwood’s gaze. She smiled at Razeby with gratitude.
‘It is a pleasure to be here.’
‘A glass of champagne, first, and then allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends before we go in to dinner.’
She saw the way his eyes flickered towards Linwood before coming back to hers.
She met Razeby’s gaze boldly, almost daring him to say something of the request she had made, a hint of amusement playing around her lips. She knew that he would have told Linwood.
Razeby made no mention of it; he was too shrewd for that. She drew him a small wordless acknowledgement and accepted the crystal glass of sparkling wine, touching its rim to her lips without actually drinking anything of it. Then she allowed Razeby to make his introductions without a single word or glance in Linwood’s direction. And all the while, she prepared herself and