Chapter 7
Harry swept onto the dance floor, hand in hand with the Duke of Blackstone and could hardly stop her grinning. So far, it had been a marvelous night and it was wonderful to see her old friend. She’d always thought Rob a magnificent fellow and so it felt quite fitting dancing with him at her first ball.
As she curtseyed, the perfect curtsey she had practiced until her knees had cried, she felt a sweeping feeling that everything was going to go absolutely swimmingly. As she looked up at him, she was surprised to find that he did not mirror her own joy.
In fact, he looked rather as if he had fallen off a cliff. No, that wasn’t true. He looked like he’d been shoved. Which was quite an odd look because Rob was the most handsome man in the room. There was no question about that.
He’d always been a mischievous boy with a devilish glint to his eyes and a wicked, laughing turn to his lips. One never quite knew what he’d do next. She’d adored that about him.
Much to her surprise, that carefree, laughing boy seemed to be gone now. Instead, she stared at a man whose face appeared almost stony. It was. . . astonishing.
“Your sacrifice is duly noted,” she teased as he took her hand and the first strains of the orchestra played.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, his hand firm but light beneath hers.
“I know you did not wish to dance with me,” she began. “My mother fairly swooped down upon you as a hawk does a mouse.”
“A mouse, my lady?” And there it was, that slight turn of his lips. Lips that were sensual now as well as mischievous. Amusement lit his dark eyes and she nearly tripped on her train. Something she’d sworn she would not do.
The way he suddenly unnerved her with that one look was shocking.
For now, that boyish amusement had become something else entirely. It was fiery. It was. . . scandalous.
She flushed at that smile. Something she had never done before. And it struck her then how incredibly tall Rob was. As tall as her brother, with slightly broader shoulders. His midnight hair teased his temples, eschewing powder and, seemingly, pomade. It touched his hard cheekbones, which only seemed to emphasize the hard angle of his jaw.
The feel of his big hand with its powerful fingers about hers was compelling and sent the most delicious shivers along her arm. For never, in all her years, had she ever truly noticed Rob as more than a friend. But tonight, tonight, her eyes seemed to be opened to him and the change in his demeanor. Oh, he’d been a man for years now, but there was something else. There appeared a depth, a pain, an understanding of man’s vagaries that had not been there before. And yet, thankfully, his eyes could sparkle with the old mischief, made wicked by his acquired knowledge.
“Have I rendered you speechless, Lady Harry? I never thought such a thing possible.”
“Of course not,” she immediately defended. “Only, I have realized how little I have seen of you since your return from the Continent. And I cannot imagine you as a mouse, now that you mention it.”
A deep, rolling laugh boomed from him. Several heads turned in their direction. Including her mother, who smiled. For it was clear that she was witty if she could make a duke laugh so merrily.
“I regret that our friendship has dimmed to an acquaintance,” he said sincerely. “But I have had little time for calls or balls such as this.”
“You reserve your time for more mature affairs?” she asked.
His lids lowered slightly and his lips crooked again in his devil may care way. “Why Lady Harry, whatever are you insinuating?”
She blushed again. How did he make her do that? She was not given to it. “Nothing untoward.”
He tsked playfully. “It is true. I am interested in more mature affairs, as you say. Where I go, there are few debutantes.”
She gazed up at him, trying to imagine it. “It must be heavenly.”
“Do you view your peers so poorly?” he inquired, seemingly surprised.
“Not at all.” She nibbled the inside of her cheek. Did she dare be honest? Hadn’t she always been with him? Why should now be any different? “But we are encouraged to speak of little else but the weather, the races, and lace.”
He gave her a look of mock horror. “If you must know, I have suffered a good deal of such conversation.”
“I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of it,” she agreed, knowing he, like her brother, must often be surrounded by young ladies. “But imagine my own position! Ladies are not allowed to think until they are married and then only very carefully and with the permission of an intelligent husband.”
His brow furrowed. “It is a coil, I grant.”
“Why thank you, Your Grace.”
He let out a strange but delicious rumble of protest.
“Your Grace?” she queried.
“I cannot condone this,” he said abruptly, his voice deep and rough.
“Have I overstepped?” she asked, a wave of trepidation threatening her. “I thought since we were such good friends as children—”
“You must call me Blackstone, at the very least,” he cut in.
She smiled, understanding. It did seem odd to have to be so formal after all they’d done together. “Well, I cannot call you Rob.”
His gaze narrowed and something lit with in his eyes. “That would be. . .”
“Inappropriate.”
“Dangerous,” he countered.
“Dangerous,” she scoffed.
“Yes. Dangerous,” he replied, his eyes growing dark. “For only my family calls me Rob.”
She found herself disappointed, which made little to no sense. “And I’m not family.”
“Indeed, no.”
“Only your family?” she prompted suddenly.
“Why do you ask?”
The openness she’d always shared with him seemed to loosen her tongue and she asked before she could give consideration to her words. “Well, surely there are ladies. . . do they always call you Blackstone.”
“Lady Harriet.” He stifled a stunned laugh. Pausing, he grinned. “I cannot believe my ears. Well, I suppose I can. You always were a shocking minx.”
She gave him a cheeky smile. “And you adored it.”
“I did,” he confirmed readily, guiding her easily about the floor. “I can’t bear a sheep.”
She sighed. “Alas, I fear I shall be bahing for several months at least.”
“Months?” he queried.
“Once I am married, I can shed my wool, don’t you see?”
“You mean to find a husband this year?” he all but bellowed.
She blinked rapidly just as the music came to a close. Rather quiet now, he led her off the floor. But then she stopped him. “Why is that so appalling?”
Staring down at her, he said solemnly, “It is a very important decision, a future spouse.”
“Indeed, it is. But I am also eager for the independence such a thing will bring.”
“Independence,” he echoed.
“Yes. From the sheep.”
The look upon his face was nigh unreadable. But then he said, “I wish you happy hunting.”
She laughed, unable to stop herself. He had to have known she would marry soon. Didn’t all young ladies?
As he bowed, she watched his powerful form retreat back to the corner of the room and she thought, let the hunting begin, indeed.
“I’m sorry about that, old chap.”
Rob swallowed a good dose of brandy then turned to Harley who had snuck up on him quietly. “For what may I ask?”
Harley winced, but it couldn’t quite hide the amusement in his gaze. “I saw Mother ambush you.”
Rob held his glass up, admiring the cut of the crystal, as he acknowledged, “Well, I did ask you to dance with Mary.”
“You did but I know it is impossible to tell Mother no.”
A smile tilted Rob’s lips as he thought of Harley’s mother. “You know how I like her.”
Harley nodded. “You like the whole family, really. As we do you.”
“Indeed. Your sister seems to be determined to wed,” he blurted. As soon as the words were past his lips, he wished he could retract them for they were likely very out of place.
Harley’s eyes widened. “Does she? Given her mulish stubbornness, I find her throwing herself at marriage to be ill advised but I won’t stand in her way.”
“Someone should.”
Harley’s brows lifted, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Rob’s proclamation. “I beg your pardon.”
“All I say is, be extremely careful in her choice of husband.” He thought of her at the mercy of a husband. A bad husband. His grip tightened on his snifter. “She’s too wonderful a lady to be risked to some lout.”
Harley didn’t protest but studied him carefully. “Certainly, old man. Certainly. I’m sure you’ll do the same for Mary.”
Oh, he would. Whoever Mary married would have to pass considerable tests lest she find herself attached to a complete lecher like their father and older brother. The idea of a good young lady tortured by such a husband made his stomach turn.
Harley paused, his gaze traveling about the small, masculine room decorated with portraits of horses and hounds. As soon as he was clearly certain they were alone he said, “It’s been some time since we’ve seen you at Number 79.”
Rob ground his teeth. The comment was expected but not welcome. “I’ve had several affairs to attend to.”
“For the last year?” Harley asked, obviously not taken in.
“The death of my father has led to a great deal of business.”
“Of course,” Harley said carefully. “But surely you could use the company of friends.”
It was his friends that he could not bear to be around. For how could he hide the truth from them once in the safety of their ranks? Oh, he knew there were rumors of his financial troubles, but through considerable manipulation and his life upon the road, he’d kept most of it hidden.
That would be over very soon.
How was he going to look them all in the eye?
“Say you’ll come,” Harley urged.
He stared at Harley, at the man who had been by his side through so much, and knew immediately that there was no way around it. For what sane denial could he give? None. “Of course. I shall see you—”
“Come this week,” Harley broke in, determined. “Drake just arrived in town.”
Drake. The man who had really started it all. If it hadn’t been for that day so long ago now, they would not have created a mutual sanctuary and Rob did not know if he and the others could have remained such close friends given the tempestuousness of life.
At last, Rob nodded.
“Good.” Harley smiled knowingly. “Notes will go out.”
They had long ago established a method of ensuring a meeting. A single, black-edged note with the simple word, Here and a series of numbers which indicated a date and time scrolled on it would be sent out to the dukes. There was never an address.
But the rendezvous always took place at Number 79. A place they used for many things to hide its true nature.
Harley suddenly scowled. “Damnation.”
“What?” Rob asked, surprised by his sudden turn.
“My sister seems to be a success,” Harley growled as he spotted her through the tall doorway.
Rob’s own insides did the strangest thing at the mention of Lady Harriet’s success. He shoved it aside. “Is that such a terrible thing?”
“I loathe callers,” Harley drawled. “No doubt, I’ll wake up to a greenhouse in the salon tomorrow morning and a house full of waxed ponces.”
Rob laughed, but he did not feel mirth. They’d gone to considerable length to ensure that the morning room and the foyer were still adequately furnished to receive callers. The rest of the house was a veritable shell. He picked up most of the decent pieces in the East End in second hand shops. No doubt, the furniture of men who’d sold every last thing they had.
Harley’s eyes narrowed and his breath caught in his throat, as if truly seeing Rob for the first time for some months. “You look quite morbid.”
Rob replied dryly, “Black has always been my color.”
“Not your clothes, man.”
“What can I say?” Rob shrugged, determined to keep the truth at bay, for as long as he could. “I’m not a boy anymore.”
“You haven’t been a boy since we went to war,” Harley pointed out. “None of us have been.”
“True.” They’d all been through hell and come back, in various degrees of damage. But how did he explain that he was even more jaded now than when he’d first returned? More despondent? He couldn’t. It was as simple as that. He swallowed the rest of his brandy. “Until our meeting.”
He did not miss the strange look that Harley gave him as he ventured out into the thick ballroom, wondering if two o’clock in the morning was too early to leave. He hoped to God it wasn’t. For he was ready to leave the scene of people dancing in golden rooms, as the rest of the world burned.