Page 17 of In the Prince's Bed
“Thank you,” Lady Jenner interrupted coolly. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I’ve always said that the best place for dancing is at a London ball,” Mama babbled on nervously, “the best music and the best dance floor and the most accomplished ladies and gentlemen. Haven’t I always told you that, dear?” Her mother didn’t pause for Katherine’s answer because she didn’t require one. “We get plenty of chances to dance in Heath’s End, mind you, but it’s not the same at those country balls, where the shopkeepers and farmers mingle with people of quality.” She shot Lord Iversley a mildly contemptuous look. “Though I suppose that even in London one can’t always avoid company of the wrong sort.”
Mama paused for breath, and Lady Jenner leaped to halt the humiliating flow of words. “Lord Iversley has begged an introduction to you and your daughter, and of course I was happy to oblige him.”
“L-Lord Iversley?” Mama’s gaze met the earl’s amused one.“You’rethe Earl of Iversley?”
“So I’ve been told,” he said with an odd note of irony. Executing a perfect bow, he added, “And I’m most pleased to make your acquaintance, madam.”
For once, Mama had the good sense to follow proper etiquette while introductions were performed. But when Katherine rose from a deep curtsy to meet the earl’s gaze, she realized she wasn’t safe yet. There was no mistaking the humor glinting in those unearthly blue eyes. Oh, no. Surely he wouldn’t reveal—
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Merivale.”
Relief swept through her, followed swiftly by anger that he’d given her such a fright. She flashed him an arch smile. “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel as if I know you already, my lord.”
Lord Iversley cocked one eyebrow. “It’s not all bad, I hope.”
“No more than usual for a young man returned to England after traveling abroad.”
“Don’t you mean ‘cavorting’ abroad?”
Katherine winced. Why had she been foolish enough to taunt him?
Mama gave a nervous titter. “Cavorting, is it? How clever you are, my lord, with yourbon mottes.”
“Bon mots,Mama,” Katherine corrected under her breath. Mama thought any approximation of a French word was good enough.
“No, your mother’s right,” the earl said smoothly. “Iambeing a clod. It’s wrong of me to assume you believe the gossip about me.”
Not even his clever play on the Frenchmottefor “clod” could banish Katherine’s mortification. She’d been the clod, mentioning his reputation when he’d been perfectly civil so far. “I don’t know what gossip you mean, my lord.”
“Don’t you?” Mischief glittered in his eyes. “But you just said—”
“I only meant that everyone was talking about you. But I…er…did not listen to any gossip. Or at least I tried not to listen.”
“Ah. So you’re admirable enough to mind your own business. I’m afraid I’m not. If people are so indiscreet as to speak where I can hear, I tend to listen. And tonight I’ve overheard a number of interesting things.”
She supposed she deserved that.
With a smirk at having won his point, he added, “Ah, but I’m forgetting what I came for. I was hoping to have the honor of your hand for the next dance.”
A new voice entered the fray. “Sorry, old chum, but Miss Merivale promised it to me.”
Katherine turned to find Sydney standing with two glasses of punch, his resentful gaze fixed on Lord Iversley. Goodness, this got worse by the moment.
“I beg your pardon, Sir Sydney,” Mama put in, “but I believe you’re confused. Katherine has already danced one set with you, and I know she agreed to let you have the last before supper.” Her triumphant smile grated on Katherine’s nerves. “It would be most improper for you two to dance more than that—what would people think? Why, you’re not even betrothed.”
Sydney looked positively apoplectic, while Lord Iversley looked as if he might burst into laughter. Katherine couldn’t decide whom she wanted to strangle more—Lady Jenner for bringing Lord Iversley over in the first place, Sydney for lying, or Mama for catching him in the lie.
She settled her anger on the earl. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t much feel like dancing at the moment.”
A lady wasneversupposed to refuse a gentleman’s request to dance. Surely that would send him off insulted.
No such luck. If anything, he looked even more amused. “A pity. I wanted to tell you that interesting gossip I overheard. But if you’d rather we discuss it with your mother and Sir Sydney, we can sit this dance out.”
Surely he was bluffing. If he said anything about what they’d done on the gallery, it would reflect as badly on him as it did on her.
Iversley never met a rule he didn’t break.
