âWould you please tell me what is going on, my lord?â
At least her voice was cool and steady, despite the feeling that she had wandered into a strange dream where nothing made the least sense.
âIt seems we are betrothed, Miss Chandler,â he said. âAnd in love.â
âIn love? Whatâ¦what sort of ridiculous notion is that?â
Dev folded his arms across his chest. âIt was the only thing I could think of to explain last nightâs debacle, particularly after my aunt accused you of trying to seduce me.â
âShe thought I tried to seduce you?â
âYes. Ironic, isnât it? Your family thinks I tried to seduce you and mine is equally convinced you tried to seduce me.â
D evin St Clair, the fifth Marquis of Huntington, stood at the window of his bedchamber in Henslowe Hall and watched the Earl of Montevilleâs carriage come to a halt in the circular drive below. He let the curtain fall and turned, a scowl on his brow. The prospect of the forthcoming ball was about as appealing as a stay in Newgate. Particularly now he knew the party from Monteville House had arrived. He had no desire to spend an evening under the same roof as Sarah Chandler.
âDev?â His younger sister Jessica stood in the doorway. She was dressed for the ball in a pale pink gown, her thick dark hair pulled back in a knot, a few tendrils framing her pretty, delicate face. He felt a little tug at his heart. She looked much too young to be going to her own betrothal ball.
She smiled at him. âAre you ready? I thought perhaps you would not mind escorting me down.â
âOf course not. Although I am surprised Adam is not fighting me for the honour.â A smile lit his usually cool face. âYou look lovely, Jess.â
âAnd you look extremely dashing.â She eyed his black coat and black silk breeches. âOh, Dev! I am so glad you are here. I know it cannot be at all easy for you.â
He raised a brow. âI will own it was a trifle inconvenient of you to fall in love with the man whose future estate runs with Monteville House, and a cousin of the Chandlers to boot.â
A chagrined expression crossed her face. âI tried very hard not to.â
He moved forward and looked into her face. âI am only teasing you a little.â He took her gloved hand in his. âDonât look so worried, Jess. I quite like your young man, and I never would have consented to the match if I didnât think he would make you happy. And I promise to behave myself.â
She tried to smile. âI am hardly worried about that. You have never done anything wrong, no matter what anyone says. It is entirely Lord Thayneâs doing!â Her hazel eyes clouded with a touch of anger, before filling with concern. âIt is onlyâI donât want you to be hurt again.â
He pressed her hands lightly before releasing them. âThere is nothing to worry yourself about. It is in the past.â Which was precisely where he intended to keep all of it, especially the Chandlers. âCome, we must go down or Adam will think youâve changed your mind.â
She gave him another little smile as he held out his arm. She placed her hand lightly on the sleeve of his coat.
But as they descended the winding staircase of Lord Hensloweâs country seat, the sounds of laughter and chatter drifting up from the ballroom below, his mouth curved in a bitter smile. It was going to prove devilishly difficult to keep the Chandlers where he wanted them. He had found it impossible to completely avoid Sarah Chandler a month ago in London, and now she was going to be under his nose again for an entire evening. It should be no problem, he would just make certain to stay on the opposite side of the room.
Sarah Chandler stood in one corner of Lady Hensloweâs ballroom, partially hidden by a Grecian column entwined with ivy and silk flowers, and wished, not for the first time this evening, that she could go home. Pleading a headache and quitting the ball would, however, be all too obvious.
The only redeeming factor was no one had quarrelled, at least publicly. But the air was thick with unspoken tensions. It hardly helped that the ballroom had somehow become divided into two sides which resembled nothing as much as two armies preparing for battle. The Chandler relations stood on one side near the tall double doors leading into the hallway, and the St Clairs on the opposite side near the doors leading to the garden. The rest of the guests chose the other two walls with a few brave souls meandering between the two. The only thing that would make it worse was if her brother, Nicholas, was present. Thank goodness, he was safely in Scotland.