Page 26 of For a Lady's Irresistible Gaze

“May I help you, Sir?” An attendant asked.

With his eyes skipping over the displays, Felton asked, “A silver bracelet, something understated but graceful.”

Nodding, the man moved off to get a few choices, Felton’s eyes landed on a mannequin with a choker: its triple strand of flawlessly matched pearls with a centerpiece an emerald the size of a small continent.

Emerald was probably taken from a poor province in India and that silver smuggled out of France. What a sign of indulgent society we live in.

The attendant called his attention back from the roiling with antipathy, “Would any of these suit you, Sir?”

In the second set, he picked up a thick bracelet with the thinnest, most delicate silver links he had ever seen and had a tiny seed pearl in the middle. “I think this will do.”

“Splendid,” the attendant said, “This way, please.”

Fifteen minutes later, Felton walked away with the jewellery secured in small suede pouch tucked tightly in his coat inner jacket pocket. He strolled back to his home with only a single ember of anger smouldering his chest.

This time, when he arrived home, he sent for his dinner while securing the trinket in a drawer. Halfway through his meal, the footman came back with the voucher for the musicale and Esther’s enthusiastic reply for the outing.

I would be delighted to accompany you.

Smirking, he held the card up, “Not as much I will be.”

Most of the means for her seduction were in place, he just had to find a way to get her alone. Isolated, he would touch her, flatter her, whisper wicked things in her ear, and steal a few kisses—then he would retreat and make her come to him.

Standing, Felton went to his wardrobe and considered what he could cobble together for a devil costume; a red waistcoat, black cravat and he would need a mask. There was not anything fitting, so he made a mental note to take a trip to the Arcade.

When I am done, the Devil will be taking notes on what revenge is.

***

The musicale was not what Felton had expected; when he had thought that the function would only in one room at Almacks, he found that there were five rooms. Five rooms with five different orchestra’s, and people moved freely from one room to another.

Three of the rooms had people dancing on the floors and were lit by glistening chandeliers, but two of the rooms were mostly darkened with only scones of lights on the walls. In those rooms, chairs were set out for the patrons to listen only and the darkness had Felton grinning like a wolf.

There were dozens of ways to sneak away for an illicit rendezvous, when covered by darkness. Especially when there was a room for refreshment just down the way and, beyond that, empty rooms and nooks.

But first: dancing. Taking Esther’s hand, he led her to the floor where the strains of the waltz came from the orchestra. “I feel it only right that I compliment you once more for offsetting my nefarious costume with such purity.”

Blushing, Esther dipped her head, “Mother thought that Hestia was the best choice for me.”

“She was right,” Felton said smoothly as they danced, “The silver laurel and the seed pearls in your mask are enchanting, and for your gown, I keep wondering if you are a mortal or had somehow descended from Olympus.”

“’Tis only watered ivory silk,” Esther laughed.

“Aye, but it floats like ether and makes you look as if you are walking on a cloud.” For proof, Felton spun them, and the tassels and tails of her dress billowed up in the air, making her squeak.

“My stockings,” she gasped.

***

Flustered that half of the room must have seen her stocking, Esther felt her face flame.

“Don’t worry, Esther,” he said sultrily, “I doubt anyone had time to see your stockings.”

The music swelled around them, the colourful swirls of the ladies’ dresses were all but a blur of motion around them, but all she could see was Captain Morgan and his cocksure smirk. Then they were dancing so quickly she felt as if she were flying, her excitement at being held so securely in his arms was overwhelming and Esther was giddy with it.

Arthur’s gaze, through his devil mask, had not once left hers. He stared down at her, his expression intense, warm—and dare she say loving—and she gloried in his attention. It was a heady thing, and when he spun her again, she laughed aloud, so happy, and free that the sound burst from her.

He grinned again, “Am I amusing?”

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