Heads turned as they walked into the private party in a house in Silver Street a short time later. Bridget quickly realized that most of the attention was not on account of her but rather Stephen. The rustle of fans being opened and fluttered in his direction, while their owners outright ignored her, bordered on rude.
Am I invisible?
She tightened her hold on his arm in an obvious statement of claim. Stephen might not be hers, but she was paying for his time. They had arrived together, so that should at least afford her some sort of acknowledgment or respect.
He glanced down at where she held him in a vice-like grip. “If you grasp my arm any harder, I might lose all feeling in it. Rest assured, Bridget, you have my full and complete attention this evening.”
Why did he have to notice?
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I am simply nervous at being out in polite society once more. It has been a long time.”
A deep, dirty laugh rumbled in Stephen’s chest. The temptation to pinch him was strong, but she had an inkling he might like it.
“Come. Let us get a drink, and then we can mingle and observe. As soon as the ladies realize that you and me, for want of a better word, are a couple, they will look for another distraction. And you will be able to mercifully withdraw your claws from my flesh.”
Only if you offer to sink your teeth into my skin.
Imagining what Stephen would look like fully naked sent a ripple of heat coursing through Bridget. Her tongue swept over her lips at the prospect of his manhood being on display for her private appreciation.
He is a big man. I have no doubt that he is sizable in every way.
She couldn’t muster the willpower to stop picturing Stephen in all his glory. How magnificent it would be, and just as important, how skilled he would be with it?
She put a hand to her cheek. “Is it me or is it hot in here?”
He gave her a sly side eye. “It’s you. And I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly what you are thinking. Naughty girl.”
She stumbled, and Stephen quickly reached out, stopping her from taking a tumble. His large hands, resting on her waist, he set Bridget standing steady on her feet once more.
For a moment, she simply stared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. When she finally did lift her head, he gifted her with a soft smile. Mischief glittered in his eyes. “Relax, Bridget. I was only teasing. Now how about we go and get that drink, and you forget what anyone else here, apart from me, is thinking about you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You are by far and away the most captivating woman in the entire room. And I am hoping that since every eye is on us, you will be the honey we need in order to lure our villain from his lair.”
Well, that was rather clumsily put, you are a clod. I think you even managed to mix your metaphors. Bees and honey. Spiders and lairs.
If Bridget wasn’t a bundle of nerves already, Stephen was convinced he had just made certain of it. He had meant to reassure Bridget that she was both a stunning woman and also a vital part of the plan to unmask the blackmailer, but it hadn’t quite come out that way. Now she was probably thinking he only wanted her for her looks, not her intelligence.
You are a dolt of the first degree.
Pushing aside thoughts of his ham-fisted attempt to placate Bridget, Stephen forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, observing other guests. They were here for a reason.
They made their way into the ballroom, and Stephen immediately spotted a problem. There were four large round tables in the center of the grand room taking up the space where, during a ball, people would normally be dancing. Every available seat was occupied.
Around the outside were other small gatherings of seated party guests, some in conversation, the majority watching the card games.
Damn. How are we supposed to be inconspicuous in this place?
The setup wasn’t exactly conducive for slyly observing the goings-on of the evening. Wherever they stood, they would be seen. He was a tall man, hard to miss. If there was one thing Stephen was never comfortable in being, it was conspicuous when he was trying to blend in.
He led Bridget away from the tables and with his back turned to the gathering, faced her. “This is not good. I foolishly assumed that there would be an orchestra and dancing. The card tables are normally set to one side and the people moving in and out of the games can be observed from a discreet distance. I very much doubt that if our blackmailer is here tonight, they are going to risk attempting to make contact with you.”
“We can’t up and leave. We’ve only just arrived,” she replied.
She had a point. The evening’s hosts might not take too kindly to be seeing recently arrived guests suddenly turning tail and heading out the door. They may consider it rude and a personal slight. With Bridget attempting to make her way back into elegant society, they had to be circumspect in their behavior for her sake.
“Why don’t we take a seat and watch a couple of games? I have spotted one of the people on your list here tonight. Seeing how Lady Bell is going with her cards might give us an idea as to whether she may have reason to try to get money from my family,” said Bridget.
It wasn’t ideal, but at least the evening wouldn’t be a total waste.
“Alright,” he replied.
Drinks in hand, they managed to find a couple of chairs, and they took up a spot not far from the table where Lady Bell was playing.
An hour later, and Stephen was completely engrossed in a game of cribbage. With the first set, he had barely had time to get a handle on the tells of the various players before it was over, but by midpoint in the second game, he was glad he and Bridget had stayed.
Lady Linton’s friend, Lady Bell, was far more interested in her champagne and giggling with her friends to be taking any notice of her own score, let alone how other players were adding theirs. When she lost handsomely, she simply shrugged and ordered another drink from a footman.
Now there is a woman without money issues.
Stephen leaned across to Bridget. “I think we might be able to forget about her wanting to take money from your mother.”
They had achieved at least something this evening—one suspect could be removed. But Stephen wasn’t satisfied. At this rate, it would take them days, possibly weeks to cull names from the list.
His gaze drifted from the card table to the people gathered around. For every game, there was a good number of guests just watching. Some paying particular attention to every hand.
What if our blackmailer isn’t a card player? What if they are someone who likes to watch and over time figured out Lady Linton’s trick?
“Can you recall what the original note said?” he asked.
“Something about seeing Mama adding up her tally wrong. Why?” replied Bridget.
He rose and offered her his hand. There was little point in them lingering at the party any longer. And they needed to talk. “I think that might be enough for this evening. Let me escort you home.”
The instant their fingers touched; a thrill of need sent all thoughts of lists fleeing from Stephen’s mind. A sensible man would have let go as soon as Bridget had got to her feet, but he didn’t. Instead, he was rooted to the spot staring at her.
At those blue eyes in which he was certain the unmistakable glaze of lust shone.
She is as affected by my touch as I am hers. This is dangerous territory.
“If you like, we could share a glass of wine at my home. We could go over our thoughts from this evening and make further plans. I have a well-rounded Shiraz I think you might enjoy,” she said.
“That would be very nice. You can even take a pencil and put a strike through Lady Bell’s name,” he replied.
Stephen couldn’t care less about the wine or the list. He just wanted to get Bridget alone.