"And where are you off to?" Amanda asked. She didn't care what Luc suspected-he'd never suspect the truth-but she saw no reason to stand by and let him bolster Reggie's resistance to her schemes.
Luc didn't immediately turn her way, but when he did, his dark blue gaze was acute. "I plan to spend the rest of the evening in"-his long lashes veiled his eyes as he straightened a cuff-"rather more private surrounds."
A footman approached. "Your carriage is waiting, my lord."
"Thank you." Luc turned to the door, glancing again at Amanda. "Can I offer you two a lift?"
Amanda smiled sweetly. "I doubt Cavendish Square is on your way."
Luc held her gaze, then nodded. "As you say." With a nod to Reggie, he strolled to the door.
Leaving Reggie looking uncomfortable; Amanda looped her arm in his and chatted to distract him.
She managed well enough; by the time they were admitted to Lady Hennessy's, Reggie's usual amenable temper was restored. After greeting their hostess, Amanda pressed his arm. "I want to check who's here. Why don't you fetch some champagne?"
"Right-o."
Five minutes later, she'd verified that Dexter was not gracing any of her ladyship's rooms-at least, not the public ones. She didn't want to think that he might be gracing one of the private rooms. Determinedly, she envisioned him at Mellors, or one of the other exclusive hells.
Hiding in the shadows. Out of her reach.
Damn him-he was clearly not going to make his conquest easy.
She found Reggie loitering by a well-stocked table. Munching on a pastry, he handed her a glass of champagne. She took one sip, then set the glass aside. "There's no one here I want to meet. We may as well go home."
"Home?" Reggie stared. "But we've only just arrived."
"Without the right company, any place is boring. And I've just remembered I have an appointment tomorrow morning at six o'clock."
"Six? No one has appointments that early, not even with modistes."
"I do." She tugged at his sleeve. "Come on. I need to get home." In time to send a footman with a note to Fulbridge House.
Looking over the table, Reggie sighed. "Dashed fine salmon patties."
She let him take another, then dragged him away.
Chapter 5
When she saw the dark figure atop the pawing roan waiting under the tree the next morning, Amanda knew a moment of abject relief. That much, at least, she could count on. Trotting up, she smiled sunnily. "Good morning."
It was damp, cold and grey, a light drizzle turning all about them fuzzy, indistinct. His expression impassive, Dexter inclined his head and turned his horse toward the distant track.
She'd half-expected a grunt. Falling in beside him, she set the mare pacing alongside the roan.
How to prod him into arranging for the rest of her adventures? Into spending more time with her, alone.
She glanced at him, waited to catch his eye.
He didn't look her way. He rode straight to the start of the tan, then, with barely a glance at her, sprang the roan.
Jaw setting, she went with him. That he was determined to be difficult could not have been clearer. Through the thunder and rush of the ride, it occurred to her that he knew perfectly well what she wanted to ask.
It irked her that she felt too wary to demand openly, as she would with any other man. Dexter was hard enough, untamed enough, simply to refuse. And then where would she be? Dealing with him was like a game of snakes and ladders-one foot wrong and she'd be back at the start.
The end of the track neared; they slowed, then turned aside onto the turf. He drew rein and halted; she did the same. They were both breathing hard, the exhilaration of the ride still streaking through their veins. She lifted her head, looked into his face. Fell into his moss-agatey eyes.
Green, gold flecked, they held her gaze; in the cool of the morning, she again felt the heat, the rush of sweet warmth she'd experienced in his arms. The fire still burned, embers