Grace watched the marquis in mild fascination, having never been on the receiving end of such a seduction, for lack of a better word. He seemed to be waiting for her response, but Grace could not find a reply.
“The next step in this particular dance, Lady de Courtenay, is for you to give me your glass, and I will give you mine.” He extended his hand.
Her eyes widened. Speechless, she handed her glass over, still in shock from his whispered words. She may have just agreed to their flirtation, but she had no idea that such an action on her part would leave her completely out of her element. This gentleman could be dangerous to an innocent’s heart. Luckily, she could attempt to play her part to ensure Miranda would see the point that the marquis was not one to play games with.
Aldridge placed his own glass gently into the hand she still had outstretched then lifted the glass she had given him, cradling it with one long-fingered hand and caressing it with the other. “How sad,” he mourned, “that this is the closest I will come to tasting the sweet lips that so recently touched this privileged glass.” Over the rim, though, his eyes were watchful.
A wave of heat flushed Grace’s face for she had never had a gentleman say something of this magnitude to her.
When she remained silent, he renewed his attempts to engage her in conversation. “I take it,” he murmured, in the same seductive purr, “that your sister intends to refuse this proposal? Or has she a fancy for being a duchess?”
She could feel another pair of eyes studying her beside her sister and dared a glance down the long table. Her thoughts were confirmed when she saw for herself that Nicholas had been watching her, and he did not appear pleased. Her heart heavy, she returned her full attention to Aldridge.
Aldridge noticed, too. “Your suitor is watching, by the way.”
She gave the marquis a small smile and leaned slightly closer, ensuring the scene for those who watched would appear intimate. “I suspect, my lord, that Miranda already knows she will not receive a proposal from either you or your brother. She just refuses to admit defeat.”
“She has been buzzing around our barbarian viscount, Lord Elfingham, too,” he observed, his voice low and inviting. “Self-defeating, of course. One does so hate to be part of a crowd.”
“As to my suitor…” She gave a light laugh. “He is certainly not mine. The gentleman in question is foolish enough to think I am already wed and refuses to listen to any explanation I attempt to make to remedy the situation.”
Aldridge raised a brow. “Indeed? I sense a story! Will you not share, Lady de Courtenay?”
Grace leaned even closer to whisper in his ear. “We met briefly several months back at the very same masquerade where you and I were introduced. I was pleasantly surprised to come across him here for the holiday festivities. I went to introduce him to my brother, but the moment I said his name, the man left before I could finish and tell him who the gentleman was. Men can be such fools, present company excluded, of course.” She sat back in her chair and reached for her wine glass again.
Aldridge chuckled. “Present company by no means excluded. When our loins… er, our hearts become involved, sense goes out the window. Do not doubt it, my dear Lady de Courtenay. Has he managed to miss the flirtation going on between your supposed husband and Lady Celia? Or does he not regard it?”
“I believe my brother, Adrian, has been playing his part whenever they are in the same room. I am not sure if Adrian’s purpose is to annoy me or Nicholas Lacey. He finds the situation most amusing.”
“Your brother does not approve of Lacey?” Aldridge raised both brows. “I know nothing to his discredit.” His mouth quirked at the corner again, and his eyes creased in amusement. “And I would know, I assure you.”
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