Although seething, Kate forced herself to take a breath and calmly exit the ballroom. Her barbed exchange with Julia Dalton still echoed in her ears. Not only had the widow thrown down the gauntlet, declaring her intention of competing for Deverill’s hand, but she had attacked Kate directly.
“You are fooling no one with your pretense at matchmaking,” she purred. “You want to capture Lord Valmere for yourself.”
Kate pasted on an icy smile. “You are mistaken, dearest Lady X. Unlike you, I needn’t rely on deceitful tricks to land a suitor.”
Her retort brought out Lady Dalton’s own lethal smile. “The larger deceit is your self-delusion, Lady Katharine. Clearly Valmere finds me far more appealing than he does you. You are too prudish and controlling to ever attract a strong, vigorous man like him.”
It was all Kate could do to step back from their confrontation without pulling out the widow’s hair. But while Julia Dalton had always rubbed her the wrong way, the cutting words stung keenly. Worse, the thought of Deverill consorting with that harlot made her stomach knot.
Needing time to cool her temper, Kate made her way to the supper room, where buffet tables were laden with domestic and imported delicacies. She gratefully accepted a glass of wine from a footman but had barely taken a sip when Deverill unexpectedly appeared beside her.
“There you are. I came to solicit your hand for a dance.”
“You should be dancing with your potential brides,” Kate pointed out.
“True, but I prefer your company to any of those tedious young misses.” He glanced down at the buffet table, where a selection of fruits and cheeses had been artfully laid out. “Are strawberries in season?”
“These were likely grown in a hothouse.”
“I haven’t had one in ages.” He picked up a plump red berry, then bit into it and made a small sound of approval. “As ripe as summer fruit. You should try it.”
“I am not particularly hungry—” Kate began, before he brought the uneaten half to her lips.
When she opened her mouth reflexively, he slipped the strawberry inside. The tart sweetness was a burst of flavor on her tongue.
His gaze fixed intently on her mouth, Deverill watched her savor the taste. Then after she’d swallowed, he brought his thumb up to stroke the corner of her bottom lip.
Caught off guard, Kate felt the contact like a lover’s caress, the pleasurable shock of it setting her pulse racing. Perhaps he was only wiping a drop of juice away, but he imbued the simple gesture with a sensuality that was unmistakable. And his eyes…How could a mere glance be so potent?
Kate shook herself. What was she doing, allowing him to feed her strawberries in public with the intimacy of a kiss? It would be safer to dance with him, she realized.
“We should return to the ballroom,” she announced, setting down her wineglass.
Deverill’s half smile suggested he had accomplished his goal. “My thought precisely.”
He accompanied her back to the ballroom and led her onto the floor just as the orchestra struck up a waltz. No sooner had they settled into the steps, though, when she saw Lady X eyeing him from across the room. Reminded of her earlier contretemps, Kate felt her lips tighten.
Deverill must have noticed, for he bent his head so that he could be heard over the music. “Was that an altercation I witnessed between you and Lady Dalton earlier?”
“Of a sort.” Peering up at him, Kate debated whether to report on the beauty’s sordid history. She was no tattletale and despised backbiting females, but Deverill deserved to be warned of the danger. “How well do you know her?”
“Thus far? Not well. Why do you ask?”
“Let us just say that she is up to her favorite sport—husband-hunting, with you as her target.”
Deverill quirked an eyebrow at her acrid tone. “Now who is jealous?”
Although coloring at being caught out, Kate resorted to denial. “It is hardly jealousy. I merely would hate to see you tangled in her web. Julia Dalton is avaricious enough to make Miss Armitage look like a perfect angel in comparison. Her aim has always been to marry a wealthy nobleman.”
“Why is that a mark against her when you’ve said that most of the unattached ladies in London have the same aim?”
A fair point, Kate silently conceded with reluctance. “Are you aware that her sobriquet is ‘Lady X’? Dallying with her will reflect poorly on the respectable image you hope to cultivate.”
“I expect my image can withstand the association,” Deverill replied mildly.
Kate bit back a retort at his nonchalance. “Very well, if you must know…She is wellborn but practically a lady of the evening. Moreover, my dislike of her is personal because she attempted to ensnare Quinn two years ago. Actually, she was his mistress for a time and caused him a great deal of grief, embroiling him in a public scandal that was the talk of the town for weeks.”
“I see” was all Deverill said.