Page 28 of A Relentless Rake

“Ah, yes. Lady Gantry said you were a manageress…of what school, again?” He feigned ignorance. The masked man knew about the school, but the Earl of St James didn’t. Maintaining a double identity was damnably confusing, especially when holding her in his arms made it difficult to think straight.

“The Everett School for the Education of Proper Young Ladies. My brother and I run it.”

“Perhaps I should consider making a donation.” A thoughtful pause—“The mathematics theories your brother presented…are they related to his work with the school?”

“No, they’re not.” She looked over his shoulder and grumbled, “Why is everyone suddenly so interested in Henry’s work?”

He asked carefully, “Are they?”

“Well, yes—Lord Hawking, you, and that…” She flushed. “That other man.”

“What other man?”

“No one important.” She unwittingly repeated back to him the masked man’s words from last night.

He fought down a chuckle at the irony. “What did you tell them?”

“That my brother’s work does not interest me beyond sisterly love and admiration.”

A lie. A grand one. But she told it with such conviction that he wondered what other dark secrets she might be capable of keeping that he—

“Why did you ask me to dance, my lord?”

The blunt question surprised him, and he forced a flirtatious smile. “Alec,” he corrected, despite knowing her frown would only deepen. Which it did. “Because the waltz was beginning, I needed a dance partner, and you look lovely.”

“Please don’t dissemble with me.” Every inch of her now showed the no-nonsense school manageress she was by day. But he longed for the alluring woman he’d glimpsed at night.

“All right, then. Because I wanted an excuse to leave the group…the waltz was beginning, I needed a dance partner, and you look lovely,” he cheekily repeated. “How’s that for the truth?”

But the irritated expression on her pretty face announced she still wasn’t pleased. “I have no idea how I was placed on tonight’s guest list, but you obviously remembered who I was from our meeting at the Royal Society and know that I don’t typically attend events like this.”

He was tempted to tell her exactly how she was placed on that list and how she came to be wearing that dress, too, just to see her stunned reaction. But he knew better. Tonight was about the Home Office’s mission, and he wouldn’t betray Reed or Clayton because of a face. Not even one this beautiful.

“You also know I’m not the sort of woman who dances with earls.”

He stiffened, all amusement vanishing. Her self-deprecation grated. “What sort would that be?”

“A schoolmistress,” she answered, and in her irritation with him, he felt her fingers unconsciously tighten in his. “A woman without position or fortune, with no social standing of any kind except for what people like Lord and Lady Gantry grant me.” Her lips pressed together grimly. “You might as well have asked the footman to dance with you.”

He shook his head. “Thomas would have wanted to lead, and he doesn’t look at all becoming in satin.” When she opened her mouth for an angry retort, he interrupted, “But you are simply stunning in yours.”

A heated blush darkened her cheeks and made her eyes grow even bluer, her hair even more golden. The flush continued down her front and beneath her bodice toward her breasts. He very much wanted to follow it, to see how far down her lovely body it strayed.

“You are the most beautiful woman at this ball,” he murmured. Did that blush extend all the way to her nipples? Were those sweet tips just as rosy as her cheeks? “A man would have to be a fool to pass up the opportunity to hold you in his arms.”

“AndIwould have to be a fool to fall for such flattery.” She stopped dancing as the music ended, then dropped into a stiff curtsy. “I won’t be toyed with, my lord, even by an earl.”

“Never fear, Miss Everett.” He bowed over her hand. “I have no intention of toying with you.”

No. He wanted to devour her whole.

He placed her hand lightly on his sleeve and led her back toward Lady Gantry. Beside him, she walked with her spine straight as a ramrod. She wanted to look prudish and aloof, he knew, but unwittingly only succeeded in looking regal and even more fit to grace the arm of an earl. Whispers scattered among the crowd as they passed through the room, and she earned herself another curious glance from the Duke of Dartmoor.

Alec scowled. The damnable rake needed to find himself a wife.

“I didn’t recognize your name when we met on the street, but I’ve heard of you,” she said in a low voice so no one could overhear. “You have a certain reputation, my lord.”

“Alec,” he insisted, matching her same low, measured tone. “And what reputation would that be, Olivia?”