“God’s teeth, but that man is an ass.” Alex thought he spoke under his breath low enough for his angel not to hear him, but from the glare she tossed his way, she had clearly heard every word.
“Language, Mr. Waters. If you please.”
Alex forced himself to smile. He would be charming and reclaim Catherine’s full attention, pale fops be damned. “I beg your pardon, Catherine. I am not fond of the shift in your taste in men.”
“I am here with you, am I not? And do not call me Catherine.”
His smile was genuine then as he looked down at her sweet lips pursed in displeasure. If he could get her alone for the space of five minutes, he could have her smiling again. Well, perhaps not smiling, but definitely sighing and clinging to him.
The fantasy was broken as they were separated by the motion of the dance. He turned his smile on the lady to his right as he drew her through the steps and helped her back to her original partner. He saw Catherine looking at the other man, some boy Mary Elizabeth had danced with earlier, with undisguised pleasure. The boy looked as if he had been poleaxed. Another conquest for her then. At least he would not have to fight that one off. The boy would run if he only raised an eyebrow at him.
It seemed Lord Farleigh of Who-Knows-Where would not be as accommodating.
But Alex had his hands on his angel again, and this time, he would not let her go. Instead of taking her back into the dining room when the dance ended, he drew her behind a potted palm, which Lady Jersey had kindly set up to block various drafts and to give lovers a place to converse in semi-privacy. Of course, Catherine was not his lover. Yet.
He did not know where that dastardly thought had come from, save perhaps from the rose scent of her hair. He took in the faint shape of her body beneath the modest gown she no doubt had sewn herself, and he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman, experienced courtesan, widow, or bored wife. Pearls gleamed in the soft curls of her hair, and one pearl nestled, not between her breasts, but in the hollow of her throat. If she were his, he would buy her a longer chain and leave the pearl to dangle between her glorious breasts while he ravished her from above. The very thought made him lose his breath.
“I must return to Lord Farleigh,” she said. She tried to get around him and leave him flat, but he blocked her with his body.
She drew back from him, her gloved hands coming up to touch his shoulders for the briefest moment, as soft as a butterfly’s wings. She did not put her hands behind her back in an effort not to touch him, but left them at her sides. He felt like a villain, and could almost hear his father’s sharp bark in his ear, ordering him to stand down. He ignored the teachings of his youth, and his own sense of fair play, and he stepped closer to her, pressing her back against the plaster wall behind her.
“We did not finish our discussion from this morning.”
“Indeed we did.” Her breath was coming short, as his was. It took all of Alex’s willpower not to stare down at her breasts as they rose, almost touching his chest. The two of them were hidden from the room for now, but they could not stay hidden for long. Still, the scent of her lingered like an aphrodisiac. He did not know how he was going to let her go.
“If we were in the Highlands,” he said, “I would simply carry you out of here.”
Her green eyes were bright with desire, though she no doubt did not understand what that was, nor what to do with it. He would give his soul, and all his tomorrows, to be the one to teach her.
“We do not condone kidnapping in London.”
“More’s the pity.”
He stepped back then, and gave her room to breathe. He offered her his arm. “I will escort you back to your Englishman.”
She looked shocked, and more than a little disappointed. “You will?”
He did not reveal his pleasure, but kept his face guarded and neutral. Still, within his breast, his soul was singing. She would be his, come hell or high water.
“It is where you wish to go, is it not?”
She sounded less certain, but she answered at once. “Yes.”
“Then that is where I will take you. But I will apologize to you properly. I feel it is only fair to warn you.”
She smiled a little at him as he led her back into the ballroom. No one had noticed their disappearance save Lady Jersey, who would say nothing to besmirch a young girl’s reputation. For all her faults, his old lover was fair, and often kind.
Before he could return Catherine to the English fop she seemed to fancy, Mrs. Angel descended on them like a whirling dervish.
“Margaret has taken ill!” Mrs. Angel said without preamble. Catherine turned pale at hearing this, and Alex placed a hand over hers to shore her up. She did not seem to notice it, but she leaned on him.
“Ill? Margaret? She was fine when we left.”
“A sudden fever. Mrs. Beam sent word.”
“Then we must go at once.”
Before Catherine could head for the door, Mrs. Angel held up one hand. “No, no my dear. There is no need for your evening to be cut short. I will leave you in the capable care of the Waters family. Mr. Pridemore will see me home.”
“But what about our carriage?” his angel asked.
Her mother pursed her lips as if in thought, and Alex started to see which way the wind was blowing. “That is a conundrum. Hmmm… I wish we had a fine, capable man here to advise us.”
Catherine frowned at her mother’s obvious bid for sympathy, but before she could speak, Alex did—to test the prevailing winds and to confirm his suspicions.
“If it would be convenient, Mrs. Middlebrook, it would be my honor to see Catherine cared for and to convey your carriage home.”
Catherine opened her mouth, doubtless to protest, but before she could, Mrs. Angel smiled as if he had solved all the world’s ills and thrown a barley cake into the bargain.
“Mr. Waters, that would be perfect. We would be ever so grateful if you might assist the family in this way.”
Alex bowed and Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she took in her mother and him both. But before she could cry foul—as indeed, foul it was—Lord Namby-Pamby stepped into the group. “May I be of any assistance, Mrs. Middlebrook?”
“Oh, my lord, you are too kind.” Mrs. Angel fell short of fawning over the fop, but only just. Clearly she was hedging her bets where her daughter’s suitors were concerned. “If you would assist me in finding Mr. Pridemore… I fear I have lost him in all this crush. This to-do has overtaxed my nerves.”
“Of course, Mrs. Middlebrook.” Lord Namby cast his eyes toward Catherine, who smiled at him valiantly. “You will be all right?” he asked her, as if she stood not in a London ballroom but on a frozen tundra with none to aid her. Alex ground his teeth.
“The Waters family is kind enough to see me home. They are great friends of my mother and sister.”
“Friends of the family, you say?” Lord Pamby eyed Alex with a jaundiced eye.
“Practically cousins,” Catherine said. Alex heard the desperate tone in her voice, and spoke to smooth it over.
“My brother, sister, and I will see to Miss Middlebrook, if you would be so good as to assist her mother.”
Alex hoped that the fop had not heard of the carriage that needed tending. If he knew of Alex’s intentions to take her home in a closed carriage, alone, he would not move from her side. Alex was banking on the fact that Lord Namby did not suspect, just as Catherine did not.
A man’s intentions were his own business, after all.
Lord Pamby must have seen the nervousness reflected in Catherine’s eyes, for he bowed to her. “I will call on you tomorrow, Miss Middlebrook. Please give my regards to your other two Scottish cousins as they see you safe home.”
“Thank you, my lord. I will.”
The fop’s gaze lingered on her as if she belonged to him already, as if Alex and her mother did not stand just by. He seemed to want to say something else, but could not in company. Alex did not like the look of that, nor the look his angel gave the fop in return, as if he were a friend she leaned on, a man she could look to in times of trouble.
He wanted to be that man, damn it. He wanted her to look at him that way.
He heard his brother Ian’s voice in his head: Then stop acting like a horse’s ass, and behave like a gentleman.
Mrs. Middlebrook led Lord Namby away then, still giving a good impression of worry over her youngest daughter. As soon as they were lost in the crowd, Alex looked over the ballroom until he found Robbie leaning against a pillar, looking as if he wished for death.
He caught his brother’s eye, and gave their signal from childhood that meant, Run. The English Watch is nigh.
Of course, they were not raising Cain in Edinburgh but were in London, surrounded by nothing but English, but the signal still served. Robbie moved fast, wresting Mary Elizabeth away from whatever young suitor she was talking to, and then moving for the door. Alex did not wait but drew Catherine out with him.
He managed to slip by Lady Jersey while she was chatting with another very young man. Perhaps someone she was nicely acquainted with, as she and Alex once had been, for in that moment, she seemed to have eyes for no one but him. Thank God for small blessings.
“Do you think she is very ill?” Catherine asked him as they waited for her carriage to be brought around.
Alex had almost forgotten her sister altogether. Surely her mother could have come up with a different ruse, though he could not argue with the results.
“I am sure you will find her almost completely recovered by the time you are home,” was all he said.
He saw Robbie bring Mary Elizabeth into the grand entrance hall, but he did not wait any longer than that. If he let the girls speak to each other, Mary Elizabeth would shout the house down and everyone within a mile would know that he was bringing Catherine Middlebrook home. Alone. Not the done thing.
Though of course, that wasn’t going to stop him from doing it.