Page 6 of The Defiant One
Several women gasped. Lord Andrew, ignoring them, raised a brow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, don't try to pretend ignorance. I'm fully aware of what you've done to your dogs!"
"My dear madam, I haven't the faintest idea what you're babbling about."
"Well then, let me refresh your memory. I've heard all about how you force them to drink chemical solutions so you can note the effect on their poor bodies. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
He stared at her as though she'd just told him she'd discovered a bridge to the moon. Around them, all conversation had ceased. Celsie's fan beat the air a little faster, and dampness filmed her palms. She was getting a crick in her neck from glaring up at that cool, remote face, but she did not back down. Neither did Lord Andrew. Finally, his mouth, so sullen and angry before, curved into the barest hint of a smile. A very dangerous, unpleasant smile.
"Ah. That."
"Yes, that."
"And just where did you come by such information, hmm?"
"Your brother."
"My brother." The thin smile faded. "Of course."
Lord Andrew gazed once more over the heads of the crowd, finally locating the informant, and Celsie swore that if looks could kill, the duke of Blackheath would have to be carried out in a coffin.
Not that the duke appeared to care in the least. He seemed too busy conversing with Pitt and several Members of Parliament to pay any notice to the drama that was dominating Celsie's corner of the ballroom.
She folded her arms. "So, what do you have to say for yourself, my lord?"
"Nothing, madam, that must also be said to you."
"This is a charity ball! The welfare of animals is the whole reason I'm holding it, and if you're abusing them, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave!"
He shrugged and took a negligent sip of his champagne. "Very well, then. Ask me, and I will be more than happy to go."
Celsie stamped her foot. "Are you experimenting on animals?"
"It all depends on what you mean by experimenting."
"You know what I mean by experimenting, you . . . you mad inventor, you!"
Something in his demeanor darkened. It was in the barest tightening of his lips, the chill that suddenly seemed to emanate from his tall, powerful body. Though he remained the very image of unruffled calm, of well-bred élan, there was anger glittering in those lazy, down-tilted eyes now — and it was directed fully at Celsie.
"Very well then, yes, I suppose I have done. Experimented on animals, that is. Do you want the sordid details? Perhaps you wish to hear that I pry open their jaws and pour solutions down their throats so that I can note the effect on their insides. Or that I strap them into flying machines before going up myself. Yes, I suppose that is experimenting, wouldn't you say?"
His circle of admirers gasped in horror and stepping back, began twittering amongst themselves.
Lord Andrew smiled and fixed Celsie with a look of malevolent innocence.
And Celsie was struck speechless.
He saluted her with his glass, looked once more out over the ballroom, and was just lifting the vessel to his lips when he suddenly went still. Frightfully still. His face lost its color, he looked up at the ceiling, and for the span of several seconds, his gaze seemed to turn vacant, as though the man behind those intent, far-too-intelligent eyes had gone away for a moment or two. With an unsteady hand, he put down his glass, shaking his head as though to clear it, and then, giving Celsie a look of confusion and irritation, he swept her a curt bow.
"Excuse me. I must go."
"Go where? I'm talking to you!"
He didn't bother to answer, instead turning smartly on his heel and walking away, through his slack-jawed admirers, through the crowd, past the gossipy Lady Brookhampton, and towards the door.
"What's the matter with him?" whispered one fresh-faced girl.
The others clustered close, staring after him. "I don't know! But did you see the way his eyes got all distant? What a pity that one so handsome is also so very strange . . ."
