“An absurd rumor, unfortunately,” Mary bemoaned. “He has been spreading enough money about town to reassure the most suspicious of matrons that he is deep in the pocket. I assure you if he were in the market I would have already purchased his services.” There was a faint pause as Mary turned to regard her with knowing brown eyes. “If you had not snatched him up first.”
Simone stiffened in shock. “Me?”
Although five years older than Simone, the widow had taken her under her wing when she had first arrived in London. She had not only helped Simone establish her image as the “Wicked Temptress,” but she had helped to choose the select circle of friends that would ensure her success.
She did, however, possess an uncanny habit of speaking her mind with amazing frankness.
“I have seen how your gaze follows him.”
Simone gave a loud sniff. “He is arrogant, opinionated and far too aware of his own charms.”
Mary gave a low laugh as her gaze returned to the ebony-haired gentleman.
“What does that have to do with anything? He is delectable.”
“He is passable, I suppose.”
“You do not fool me. You are no more immune than the rest of us poor females.”
Simone’s eyes darkened. Unlike Mary she did not allow herself to be prey to her desires. She did not tumble into lust with each new gentleman who appeared upon the horizon, nor did she readily entangle herself in sordid affairs.
Not even with a gentleman who made her skin tingle and her heart race.
She remained in complete control of herself at all times.
Complete control.
“I assure you that I am utterly immune,” she retorted in tight tones. “Although ...”
Mary regarded her with a hint of curiosity. “What?”
“I would not deny a desire to challenge that male arrogance. He is far too confident that he is irresistible.”
“Perhaps because he is irresistible,” Mary pointed out.
“Fah.”
The dark eyes sparkled in a taunting manner at Simone’s confident manner. “Pretend to yourself if you wish, Simone, but do not be surprised to discover yourself burned after toying with such dangerous flames.”
For no reason at all Simone felt a swirl of unease rush through her stomach.
She did not wish to be reminded of the danger that shimmered about Mr. Ravel like a cloak of warning. He had offered a challenge that she could not ignore. Not without appearing a coward. Something she could not bear.
“Save your sympathies for Mr. Ravel. He will be in need of them,” she said in tones far more daring than she felt.
Mary laughed in open disbelief. “We shall see.”
“We shall, indeed.” Simone snapped her fan shut as the music came to an end. It was time to teach Mr. Ravel she was not to be so easily discounted, she told herself, even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her she was being a fool. “Excuse me.”
Keeping her gaze covertly trained upon the elegant gentleman, Simone threaded her way through the guests that filled the ballroom. She determinedly ignored those who attempted to attract her attention as she angled toward the dance floor directly in the path of Mr. Ravel. He had managed to avoid her for the past hour. He would not be allowed to escape upon this occasion.
Hoping that no one could note the rapid beat of her heart or the manner her hands clutched the folds of her crimson silk gown she stepped directly in front of him.
With a graceful ease he managed to halt and offer a smooth bow before rising and regarding her with his midnight gaze.
“Ah, Lady Gilbert.”
Simone forgot to breathe.
Lost in the dark beauty of his eyes Simone felt the tangible power of him reach out to wrap about her. It feathered over her skin and tugged at something deep within her. Fierce, shimmering heat flared through her, making her knees weak and her mouth dry.
Botheration.
No man should be able to affect her so deeply.
Not by just being near.
It was indecent.
Desperately attempting to remind herself of the reason she sought him out in the first place, she plastered a stiff smile to her lips.
“Mr. Ravel.”
The sculpted lips curved as he slowly surveyed her slender form, lingering with obvious interest on the low cut of her neckline before returning to her flushed features.
“I trust you are enjoying your evening?”
Forcing her stiff muscles to relax, Simone opened her fan to slowly cool her heated cheeks.
She was the one in command, she reminded herself sternly.
It was time she began commanding.
“’Tis much like any other ball,” she retorted with a bored glance about the glittering room. “The same guests, the same gossip, the same predictable flirtations.”
A raven brow lifted in unspoken mockery. “You are bored?”
“More resigned,” she drawled. “I continue to hope that I might encounter one who is willing to toss aside the conventional expectations. Unfortunately there are so few in society willing to be more than mindless sheep following the flock.”
“You would prefer wolves to sheep?”
“They would most certainly add a bit of spice to the dull evening.”
The pale, beautiful features hardened at her taunting words. “You do not know of what you speak. Be glad you are surrounded by harmless sheep. They at least do not threaten to devour you.”
The rough velvet voice struck a chill in her heart before she was giving a determined shake of her head.
These vague innuendos were becoming wearisome.
She had enough true worries to plague her mind without jumping at shadows.
“I suppose you are referring to the mysterious danger you have elected yourself to protect me from?”
He stepped closer, not at all amused by her flippant tone.
“I speak of the foolishness of toying with matters beyond your comprehension.”
There was something so patronizing in his manner that Simone instinctively stiffened.
“Your arrogance continues to astonish me. I do not need to be warned as if I were a child.”
“But you are a child in many ways despite your attempts at sophistication.”
That was it.
Simone nearly broke her fan in half as she struggled to maintain her composure.
A child?
How dare he?
The most elusive, handsome and charming of London gentlemen battled for just a smile. She was toasted as an Incomparable.
Oh yes, he was certainly overdue for a well deserved lesson in how to treat a lady.
She lowered her lashes so that she could peer beneath them in a coy manner.