"Oh, ah-indeed." Lord Foster glanced around as if studying the room for the first time. "Average enough, don't you know."
An uneasy silence fell. Amanda bit her lip-there were six other gentlemen gathered about, but they'd all been struck dumb by the advent of Dexter-the ton's very own untamed lion-into their midst. They were all eyeing him as if he were some exotic beast who might bite if provoked. Inwardly sighing, she opened her lips to comment on the weather-
Lord Elmhurst turned to Martin. "I say, is it true that you acted for the Government in negotiating with the maharajahs?"
Martin hesitated, then inclined his head. "In certain matters."
"Did you travel much on the subcontinent?"
"Did you meet any Pathan warriors? Fearsome fellows, I hear."
So much for the weather. Amanda stood and listened as Martin fended question after query on his activities in India. She tried to turn her mind to the highly pertinent question of what he intended with this latest start, but found it impossible to concentrate. More gentlemen joined the circle, drawn by the male voices and the potent sense of excitement.
"My cousin works for the Company there-he writes that you were an acknowledged hero within the Company's ranks."
"I heard that you singlehandedly convinced the Maharajah of Rantipopo to allow us to trade in his emeralds."
She pricked up her ears at such details, tucked them away for later dissection, to be added to the sum of all she knew of him.
"Did you ever visit one of their harems?" The eager question from young Mr. Wentworth overrode the first notes emanating from the orchestra.
Martin smiled at Mr. Wentworth, then turned that smile, rather more intently, on her. "That's the prelude to the first waltz, I believe." With a nod, he indicated the orchids she carried in her hand.
She looked down, saw them, remembered.
Heard him softly say, "As you've done me the honor of carrying my token, I presume you'll do me the honor of granting me this dance."
It wasn't any kind of question; she was carrying the orchids, and he'd just claimed them. Plastering a smile on her lips, she looked up, offered her free hand. "The honor is mine, my lord." Then she opened her eyes wide. "You do waltz, don't you?"
His smile was feral as his fingers closed about hers. "You may judge for yourself."
She knew he waltzed like a god, but she wanted everyone else to think they'd never met before. She had to let him lead her to the floor, let him take her in his arms, in front of the entire ton. In front of a host of extremely interested eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Despite having to speak through her smile, she imbued the words with an angry hiss.
He met her gaze as they started to revolve. His lips kicked up at the ends. "Changing the rules."
"What rules?"
"The rules of our game."
That did not sound promising, not from where she stood, within the circle of his arms in the middle of a tonnish ballroom.
She'd expected him to appear tonight-the orchids had been a clear warning. But she'd assumed he'd materialize as before, on the outskirts of the crowd, and whisk her away to some private place where they could continue their "discussion" of marriage.
Not that she would again allow him to practice any sexual arguments. After he'd let slip his views on paternity, she wasn't about to take further risks on that front. But she'd hoped to dangle the carrot of further intimate moments as an inducement for him to think more deeply about what he felt for her.
The very last thing she'd imagined he'd do was to walk into the light and come straight for her.
Consequently, on gaining the ballroom, she'd drifted away from her mother, Amelia and Reggie, drifted toward the other end of the room, dodging those intent on paying court to her. Then she'd heard him announced, looked up, seen him stroll in. She hadn't known how to react. In a flurry, she'd gathered gentlemen willy-nilly to protect her; the instant she'd heard the name "Dexter" intoned, she'd known she'd need protection.
Some protection. And once those tidbits of information he'd let fall did the rounds of the clubs, the lion would be lionized and she'd have no chance of securing better-indeed, any-effective protection next time.
There would be a next time-she had little doubt of that.
As to his purpose, however…
Refocusing on his agatey eyes, she smiled serenely. She, after all, was much more at home in this arena than he.