Page 26 of A Relentless Rake

“I meant no offense, St James.” The man reddened, immediately flustered, but for the wrong reason. “Everyone knows you go out of your way to avoid these events.”

Alec smiled lazily in private amusement. “You’d be surprised to learn my true interests.”

He didn’t dare glance at Miss Everett, although he was aware of her incredulous gaze on him. So…she recognized him now. But who did she think he was—an attendee at the Royal Society or a masked intruder?

“You can’t fault Gantry,” Charles Langley, Marquess of Hawking, drawled. “I can’t remember the last time you attended one of your mother’s soirees.”

As always, Hawking was impeccably dressed and possessed a dignity befitting his influential position as lord chancellor, second only to the prime minister in parliamentary rank and power. It was a position he’d worked hard to achieve. If the man’s bearing weren’t so severe and cold, Alec was certain the marriage-minded mamas would have been thrusting their daughters at him tonight. Despite being well into his fourth decade, Hawking was one of England’s best catches and even more so since his younger brother had been killed three years ago in the latest war with the Americans. The widowed marquess now had no heir and needed to find a new wife who could give him one to save the title. But few of the young misses seemed eager to dance attendance on him.

From the way Hawking sent lingering glances at Baroness Rowland beside him, perhaps they sensed that the man had already decided on his future wife.

“I’m here to support my sister,” Alec explained. “To keep the wolves of English society at bay.”

That brought knowing chuckles from the group. Except for Miss Everett, whose gaping surprise had changed into barely concealed irritation.

“St James,” Sir George Pittens interrupted impatiently. The portly man belonged to the House of Commons and was always peddling some bill or other of questionable importance. “I’d like to discuss with you the imports bill that was—”

“Let’s leave politics in Westminster for the evening, shall we?” Alec smiled to soften his comment, but the last thing he wanted tonight was to be dragged into a political argument.

He turned toward the woman standing beside Hawking. Baroness Rowland held out her hand to him in turn and gave him a pleasant smile that made him believe she was sincere when she said, “It is good to see you again, St James.”

“Lady Rowland.” He bowed with a flirtatious smile for her and noted Hawking’s jealousy from the corner of his eye. “As always, a pleasure.”

Finally, he turned fully toward Miss Everett, and his heart stuttered. She was a fresh summer breeze amid the usual boring attendees at his mother’s ball. She shouldn’t be here, tucked into a corner with matrons and widows, wasting her beauty and brilliance. She should have been with Elizabeth’s younger set, letting the men flock around her like sheep going willingly to slaughter for the favor of one of her smiles.

He murmured, “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Not formally, no,” she replied with a bit of bristle.

He couldn’t help the grin that teased at his lips. Since she hadn’t yet slapped him or screamed, she hadn’t recognized him as the masked man.Good. But that sharp mind of hers surely realized he’d been responsible for her invitation.

“Oh, how rude of me!” Lady Gantry fanned herself apologetically for not providing a proper introduction. “Your lordship, Earl of St James, may I introduce to you Miss Everett, manageress of the Everett School?”

“Miss Everett.” He bowed. “A pleasure.”

“Yourlordship.” Enough venom filled that word to match a viper pit. Yet even this little hellcat couldn’t cut him at his mother’s ball, so she sank begrudgingly into a stiff curtsy. Her lips pressed tightly together, and he was certain she was holding back a scolding litany that would have turned the archbishop blue.

Behind them, the master of ceremonies announced the first waltz of the evening.Perfect timing.

He held out his hand. “May I have this dance, Miss Everett?”

Her blue eyes widened. “I don’t—I can’t…” She shot a desperate look at the others, but none of them came to her rescue. They wouldn’t, he knew. Despite his rumored reputation and her spotless one, they wouldn’t dare dissuade him, given his rank and wealth. Occasionally, that damned title had its benefits. “I mean—shouldn’t you dance the first waltz with your mother, my lord?”

“My mother always grants the first waltz to the Duke of Wembley.” Without letting her protest further, he placed her hand on his sleeve and led her toward the dance floor. “And trust me, Miss Everett. My giving the waltz to you will please her far more than my dancing with her.”

Consternation hardened her face, but having no choice, she allowed him to lead her onward. He brought her into position as the orchestra sent up its first flourishes.

She stiffened in his arms.

A new concern struck him. If she didn’t have a gown to wear, then perhaps… “Youdoknow how to waltz?”

“Yes, of course. But I—”

He twirled her into the dance.

She certainly did know how, and she waltzed well as he circled her around the room. She moved with natural grace and elegance as she effortlessly glided across the floor and responded easily to every shift of his body as he led her through the steps. In that satin gown, with her long white gloves and golden hair held up by silver and sapphire combs, she appeared as if she belonged here. Anyone looking at her would never be able to tell that she wasn’t a member of theton. Polished. Proper. Controlled.

But what he wouldn’t have given for a glimpse of the wild creature who lurked beneath.