“Are you?” He was still half bent over her hand so only she could hear his murmur.
“Naturally.”
“Liar.”
Her middling smile became a bit rigid as she hissed under her breath, “Don’t you dare cause a scene!”
“A scene? Me?” His eyes narrowed, and she realized that she might have made a tactical error.
Hero tried to retrieve her hand, but the awful man tightened his hold as he straightened unhurriedly. “How delightful to finally meet my new sister. You don’t mind if I call you ‘sister,’ do you, my lady? I feel as if we already know each other. Soon we’ll be rubbing shoulders at every family gathering—dinners, breakfasts, tea, and the odd snack here and there. The prospect simply takes my breath away, dear little sister. What a jolly family we’ll be.”
He grinned wickedly at her.
Hero’s soul revolted at this rogue using such a familiar term. He was in no way fraternal to her. “I don’t think—”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he murmured.
She grit her teeth and surreptitiously yanked on her hand. His grip held firm.
“Lord Griffin, I—”
“But pray will you dance with me, my lovely new sister-to-be?” he asked with jaw-dropping innocence.
“I don’t—”
He raised his eyebrows at her words, his green eyes sparkling with sly mirth.
“—believe,” she gritted, “that would be a good—”
“Of course.” He bowed his head, his eyes downcast. “Why would such a proper lady wish to dance with a wastrel such as I? I’m so sorry to have importuned you.”
His lips actually trembled. Hero felt her face heating. Somehow he had made her the villain of this piece.
“Well…” She bit her lip.
“It’s a pretty offer, Hero. What do you say?” Maximus rumbled beside her.
She started, just a little bit, but Reading squeezed her fingers in warning. Good Lord! She’d almost forgotten they were in the midst of a crowded ballroom. Such a thing had never happened to her before. No matter where she was, Hero was always completely conscious of being a duke’s daughter, completely conscious of how she should act.
She looked at Reading in consternation and saw that he had lost his mocking smile. In fact, there was no expression at all on his face as he turned to his brother. “With your permission, of course, Thomas.”
Standing together, she could see now the similarities between the brothers. They were of the same height, but beyond that they both tilted their square chins in a certain way, as if challenging any other man in the room. Studying the brothers, Hero thought that Reading’s countenance looked the older of the two, though she knew he was the younger by several years. Lord Reading’s eyes were deeper set, more lined, and much more cynical. He looked as if he’d experienced lifetimes more than Mandeville.
Mandeville had not answered his brother, and the pause was growing awkward. The dowager marchioness stood between the men and was looking anxiously at her elder son. Perhaps she communicated something silently to him.
Mandeville nodded abruptly at his brother and smiled, though only his lips moved.
Reading immediately turned and started leading her toward the dance floor. His pace seemed unhurried, but Hero found herself halfway across the room before she knew it.
“What are you about?” she hissed.
“A minuet, I believe.”
She gave him a speaking glance at the childish witticism.
“Now, now, dear sister, mine—”
“Stop calling me that!”
“What, sister?”
They were on the dance floor now, and he pivoted to face her as other couples took their places around them.
Hero narrowed her eyes. “Yes!”
“But you will soon be my sister,” he said slowly and patiently, as if talking to a not-very-bright toddler. “The wife of my elder brother, above me in rank if not in age, always to be deferred to. What else should I call you but sister?” He widened his eyes so guilelessly she nearly laughed.
Fortunately she was able to restrain herself. Lord knew what Mandeville—let alone her brother—would think if she giggled like a schoolgirl at her engagement ball. “Whyever did you ask me to dance?”
He feigned hurt. “Why, I thought to celebrate your wondrous engagement to my brother, of course.”
She raised her left eyebrow, sadly ineffective though it was.
He leaned toward her and whispered hoarsely, “Or perhaps you’d like to discuss the particulars of our meeting in front of both our families?”
The music began and Hero sank into a curtsy. “Why would I mind? It seems to me that you have more to lose than I should the circumstances of our meeting be made public.”
“One would think so,” he replied as they circled each other. “But that supposition does not take into account my brother’s incredibly stodgy personality.”
Hero frowned. “What are you trying to insinuate?”
“I’m stating,” Reading murmured, “that my brother is a narrow-minded ass who, if he had discovered you in that sitting room with Belle and me, would have immediately leaped to several unfortunate and wrong conclusions.”
The movements of the dance parted them for a moment, and Hero tried to grapple with the notion of a man with a mind so blackened he would think the absolute worst of his own brother.
When they again met, she said softly, “Why are you saying these things to me?”
He shrugged. “I merely speak the truth.”
She shook her head. “I think not. I think you strive to alienate my affections from your brother, which is a very wicked thing to attempt indeed.”
He smiled, though a muscle jerked under his right eye. “Lady Perfect, we meet again.”
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed. “I do not think Mandeville is as ill-willed as you seem to believe.”
“I hesitate to contradict a lady, of course, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She glared. “You are insulting, sir, both to your brother and to me. I cannot think what your brother has ever done to you to deserve such infamous treatment.”
He leaned over her, so close she caught the scent of lemons and sandalwood. “Can’t you?”
She couldn’t repress a shiver at the implied threat of his proximity. She wasn’t a small woman—in fact, she stood taller than many of her female acquaintances—but Reading was male and loomed at least a foot over her. He was using that physical fact to intimidate her.