How To Entice An Enchantress Part 8

Kirk's expression remained stony and cold. To those who didn't know him, he didn't seem to react strongly, but Dahlia knew what the darkening of his eyes meant, and her heart swelled with indignation.

With a smile on her lips, she pushed between Miss Stewart and Lady Mary and swept forward. "Lord Kirk! What a delightful pleasure to see you again. I was hoping for a word with you. It will be so pleasant to talk to someone from Aberdeens.h.i.+re. Almost a homecoming, one might say."

She spoke clearly, her voice as loud as Miss Stewart's had been as she met his surprised gaze.

A torrent of emotions flickered behind his dark eyes and she wondered if he would rebuff her. Good G.o.d, he is prideful. Will he not accept a friendly gesture? She said in a low voice, "Please. You must not make a scene or they will have more to gossip about."

His gaze burned into hers. "You were with them."

"Not by choice. Though I've been angry with you for many things, I've never mocked you for anything over which you had no control."

His gaze softened. "That is true." He looked past her and then back. "I've wished to speak to you for months, but not under these circ.u.mstances."

"And I've wished to never speak to you again-but I couldn't allow such small people to have such a large say."

His lips quirked and, just like that, Dahlia found herself smiling at him. I've missed this, she realized with surprise.

But perhaps it shouldn't surprise her, though, for Caith Manor was so tucked away in the countryside that she'd had no friends to visit, not until she'd befriended Kirk. And we were friends. He was my only friend, in fact.

"Perhaps we should find a gla.s.s of champagne and watch the dancing? I've never waltzed before, and I would like to observe how it's done." She put her hand on his arm.

He looked down at her hand and covered it with his own, his fingers warm against her skin. "A gla.s.s of champagne first, then."

She waited as he signaled a footman, who instantly brought them the tray. Kirk tucked his cane under his arm, took two gla.s.ses, and then proffered his other elbow to Dahlia. She smiled at his adroit handling of so many objects and allowed him to lead her away from the watching crowd.

Lady Mary, Miss Stewart, and Lord Dalhousie watched them go. Kirk gave them a cool nod as they pa.s.sed, and then he led Dahlia to a quiet spot beside an urn of palm fronds. There he handed her a gla.s.s of champagne, and then leaned his cane against the wall.

She took the gla.s.s and sipped it, curling her nose at the bubbles.

His eyes warmed with amus.e.m.e.nt. "It tickles, eh?"

"Yes. However, I'm sure that after several gla.s.ses, I shall enjoy it quite well."

"Just make certain you don't drink too many gla.s.ses at once. Champagne is a thief, and it steals your senses when you least expect it."

"I shall be cautious." She took another sip, careful not to breathe in the bubbles. "I'm sorry if I seemed to be throwing myself at you, but I couldn't allow Miss Stewart to continue."

He shrugged. "It didn't bother me."

"It bothered me. I want you to know that although I haven't forgotten our disagreement, I would never disparage you in public."

"I'd rather you did, if it would help us get over this ridiculous disagreement."

"It's not ridiculous. Your actions were unbearable."

"I was wrong to be so blunt with you, and for that, I apologize."

"At least I know your true feelings-that my family and I are both unworthy of you."

"No, no. I said it totally wrong. I-I was trying to explain that although nothing is perfect, we are so well suited that-"

"We are nothing of the kind. Lord Kirk, that's quite enough. If you continue to bring up this subject, I will be forced to leave your company."

His jaw tightened and he clamped his mouth closed, as if trying to contain words he'd regret.

An awkward silence ensued. Suddenly wis.h.i.+ng to be gone, she sipped her champagne quickly. As soon as the gla.s.s was empty, she'd make her excuses and leave Kirk to his own devices. But in her haste, she breathed in as she raised the gla.s.s and the bubbles tickled her nose yet again. "Oh no! I'm-" She sneezed.

Instantly, a handkerchief was pressed into her hand.

She blinked down at it, seeing Kirk's initials embroidered into the border. It was a gesture her father had made to her and her sisters throughout their lives, but it wasn't something Kirk would have done so quickly or instinctively when she'd known him before. In fact, she'd once sneezed at his house while trying to open a particularly dusty book, and he'd merely watched as she ran for her reticule and found her own kerchief.

He frowned. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm just . . . you gave me your kerchief."

"Isn't that what a gentleman is supposed to do?"

"Yes, which is why I was surprised."

He stiffened, but after a moment, he said, "I suppose I deserve that."

"I didn't mean it to be an insult. You are who you are, but . . ." Her gaze took in his clothing and the intricate tie of his neckcloth. "You've changed."

A slight flush colored his face. "I look ridiculous, don't I? d.a.m.n it, I knew-"

"No, you look fine. Truly." Better than fine, if she were honest.

He looked down before he met her gaze. "You don't think me ridiculous?"

"Not at all. I just don't understand why you're here. You hate being around people."

"Because I dislike being stared at like a two-headed camel."

"No one likes it." She folded his kerchief and tucked it into her pocket. "I'll have this washed and will return it to you. I-"

"I'm glad to see you."

He said the words in his old abrupt manner, without the stilted politeness he'd been using. Oddly, Dahlia found herself rea.s.sured by it.

"I'm glad to see you, too." It was oddly nice seeing a truly familiar face. And she knew his face well. She knew his dark eyes that mirrored his emotions, and his rare lopsided smile that always made her smile with him.

At one time, she'd thought him a dear friend, and when they'd stopped speaking she'd told herself it was for the best, for their friends.h.i.+p hadn't been favored by her family.

Both of her sisters thought of Lord Kirk as ancient. He was older, of course, but as she'd come to know him, the difference hadn't seemed that great and they'd found much in common. Her only real knowledge of him came from a few months' worth of literary and musical conversations, so in many ways, he was still a mystery.

She tilted her head to one side and regarded him closely. "You look very well in your new finery."

He grimaced, but caught himself. "Thank you. You look quite fine yourself. But then, you must know that."

She had to laugh. "I don't feel especially fine among so many well-dressed women. Lily made most of my gowns with her usual consummate skill, but I don't have the jewelry or fans or slippers. I'm woefully lacking in those furbelows."

"You don't need them," he said bluntly. "You're beautiful enough without such silliness."

Her cheeks heated and she looked away. Where had that come from?

"I've embarra.s.sed you. I'm sorry, but it's true. Look at the young lady by the hallway doors."

"The one in blue silk?"

"Yes. The one holding the ridiculously large fan made of ostrich feathers. She's hoping that if she waves it enough, no one will notice she hasn't read a book in almost four years. She blithely admitted it during dinner."

"Four years?"

"And see the woman with the red hair by the windows? The one who can't help touching that monstrous necklace every few moments?"

"It must be uncomfortably heavy."

"I daresay it is, but she is too parched of common sense to know what to do about it. She eats only potatoes in vinegar."

"She is dieting?"

"No, she saw that Lord Byron was eating such a menu and she decided to copy him in homage to his poetry."

"What do potatoes have to do with his poems?"

"Nothing. Which she would know if she'd actually understood what she was reading, but alas, she allows society to dictate her taste and not her own mind."

Dahlia looked about the room. "There are a lot of silly people here, aren't there?"

"I dare you to find two who've read Reade's History of the Roman Empire and can discuss it with anything close to intelligence."

Dahlia wondered if Lord Dalhousie read many books. He seemed intelligent enough. She'd ask him as soon as she was able.

She suddenly realized that Kirk had noticed where her attention had turned and he was also regarding Lord Dalhousie, his expression anything but pleasant. "That man is a fop."

"He is not. He is a very amusing, kind man, which you'd know if you'd attempt to speak to him."

"He's a d.a.m.n fool." Kirk turned back to her. "Do you know why I came to the d.u.c.h.ess's house party?"

"No. It can't be for society's sake; you hate society."

"I came to speak to you."

She blinked. "To speak to me? But . . . why? We have nothing to say."

"We have plenty to say. I've made some errors, and I'd like to repair the damage those errors have done."

"I don't wish to discuss our past."

"I do," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And I wish to do it now."

And there go our new manners. She finished her champagne and placed the gla.s.s on a nearby table. "Lord Kirk, pray excuse me, but I would like to find Lady Charlotte and ask about using the library."

"I'll escort you." He took her arm.

"No, thank you." She disengaged from his grasp. "I prefer to visit her on my own. It was pleasant speaking with you, and I must say it's gratifying to know that not everything has changed about you. Good evening and-"

"I'm not through talking, Dahlia, and neither are you."

She clamped her lips together to hold back a very unladylike retort. After a moment, she managed to say, "You cannot tell me when I'm through talking and when I'm not."

"Like h.e.l.l I can't. I came all this way, learned all of these societal rules, just to speak with you. You cannot just walk away."

"Yes, I can. I didn't ask you to go to those extensive lengths, my lord, so don't hold that up as a weapon to cudgel me into a conversation. We can be civil acquaintances while we're here at her grace's house party, but I have no wish to reclaim the friends.h.i.+p we once had."

"But I-"

"No. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll say good-bye and-"

His hand closed over her wrist and, without ceremony, he grabbed his cane and pulled her to the nearby doorway.

Dahlia was left with two choices. She could go with him and spare them both the embarra.s.sment of a public fight, or she could dig in her heels and make a scene. It was tempting to try the latter, but although she was furious with his high-handed ways, she was also aware of the critical gazes that followed them, especially those of Lady Mary and Miss Stewart.

Infuriated, she put on a smile and placed her hand over his to make it seem as if they were merely walking into the foyer together under the watchful eyes of the d.u.c.h.ess's servants.

As soon as they were out of sight of the other guests, she yanked her arm free. "Look here, Kirk, you can't-"

"Hold a moment." He turned to the two footmen who stood at attention at either side of the doorway. "We need a few moments alone."

The footmen exchanged wide glances. One of them gulped. "Me lor', shall I fetch Mr. MacDougal fer ye?"

"You will fetch no one. Leave the hall for ten minutes. You may come back then. If you do so, I shall reward you each with a guinea."

The footmen exchanged glances and, with a bow, left.

Dahlia, her arms crossed, her toe tapping impatiently, turned to Kirk the second they were alone. "Who do you think you are, forcing me to leave the salon in such a manner?"

"I want to know something." He stuck his cane into the gold umbrella stand that sat to one side of the great doors. "Why did you accept the d.u.c.h.ess's invitation?"

"That's none of your business."

"Like h.e.l.l it isn't."

Good G.o.d, how had she allowed her sense of righting an injustice overcome her good sense in having nothing to do with this man ever again? "You are so high-handed."

"And you are so stubborn." His gaze flickered over her. "Sadly for me, you appear to great advantage when you're angry."

"You are the most-" She blinked. "I beg your pardon, but what did you just say?"