Swept Away. Candace Camp

      “Indeed. I believe you noticed me, too. Am I right?”

      “I saw you, yes.” Julia struggled to pull her thoughts together. She could not let herself be distracted. She had achieved her goal of catching Lord Stonehaven’s interest. Now she had to use it to her advantage. She could not sit here like a mannequin, saying only yes and no.

      What would a woman such as she was supposed to be do? A crafty, experienced sort. The first thing, she thought, was that she had to be in control. It would never do to let a man like Stonehaven think that he could win this easily, that he could disturb her thoughts or monopolize her time or expect her to give in to him. For one thing, she suspected that he would lose interest more quickly. For another, it was essential for her purposes that she retain control of the situation.

      Accordingly, she slid as far to the side of the sofa as she could, moving away from his hand, and whipped open the furled fan she carried. She wafted it a time or two in front of her, looking at him across the top.

      “Or, at least,” she continued in as bored a voice as she could muster, “I believe that it was you. I barely glanced at the door, you see.”

      “I see.” Oddly enough, he seemed amused by her answer. Julia decided that she had made the right move. He must be pleased that she was planning to provide him with something of a chase. No doubt, with his looks and wealth, women fell all too easily at his feet.

      She stood up. “Thank you for showing me about a little and for getting me a plate of food. I confess I was feeling a trifle peckish. Now I am ready to return to the tables.”

      “Of course.” He rose, too and, taking her half-finished plate from her, set both their dishes down on the small occasional table nearby. “Allow me to escort you to a table. What is your game? I believe you were observing a table of piquet.”

      “Actually, I am most fond of loo,” she replied. “Do you play, Mr.—I am sorry, I am afraid that I don’t know your name. Most improper, I’m sure, to be conversing with you, not even knowing your name.” She cast up a twinkling sideways glance at him, as though to say that improper behavior was not unknown to her.

      “Deverel Grey, ma’am. And yours?”

      She was so startled at his calling himself by his name and not his title that she forgot for an instant what name she had chosen for herself. “What? Oh, excuse me…” She affected a little chuckle. “I fear my mind was wandering.” She hoped he would be piqued by her inattention, not suspicious that she was making up a name. “Jessica Nunnelly.” She knew that she had said the wrong last name, but it had been the only thing she could think of. A moment afterward she remembered that she had told her cousin that she would use Murrow. Ah, well, hopefully Geoffrey and Lord Stonehaven would never discuss the matter.

      She took his arm, and they went downstairs. She was somewhat uncertain of his interest when he left her and chose to play at a game in the smaller connecting room, but she was reassured when she saw that he had taken a seat from which he had a direct line of sight of her. More than once, as she played, she felt his gaze upon her. It was a little difficult to keep her mind on her cards. She had never in her life played with a table of only men, let alone for stakes as high as these. Nor was she accustomed to hearing men talk with little regard for her presence. She lost, but, then, she had expected to do so; she had brought an ample amount of money with her. It was more of a problem dealing with one or two of the men, who behaved with a freedom and familiarity that she was not accustomed to. In retrospect, she was faintly surprised to realize that Lord Stonehaven had acted with a great deal more gentility.

      Why had he not used his title? Was he afraid that it would make her chase him for his money? It was possible, she supposed, that he was displaying a certain modesty, even courtesy, so that a low-born sort such as she must appear to be would not be intimidated by his stature—but that seemed unlikely. He was far too arrogant a man for something like that.

      She grew tired of playing cards, and her nerves were beginning to fray. Julia decided that it was time for her to leave. It was a gamble, for once she was gone, he might forget her, but she was hoping that her departure would, instead, leave him wanting more. If nothing else, it should demonstrate to him that she was not overly interested in him, that she did not care to stay to see if he would talk to her again. She scribbled a note to Cousin Geoffrey, saying that she was taking a hackney home and not to worry about her, and gave it to one of the waiters to take to him in the other room.

      Then she rose to her feet, saying, “I am sorry, gentlemen, I fear I am somewhat tired. I believe I will call it a night.”

      It had not occurred to her that one of the other players, a man who had directed several overly warm comments to her tonight, would rise, also. “Allow me to escort you home, ma’am.”

      Julia shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. That won’t be necessary, although it was most kind of you to offer.”

      She turned away dismissively and started toward the door, but her admirer did not take the hint. He followed her, saying, “You must allow me to. It is not safe for a woman alone on the streets this late.”

      “I shall take a hackney,” Julia countered. “Please stay and enjoy your game.”

      “There is other game that I find much more interesting,” he said with a wolfish grin.

      Julia did not reply, merely turned away coolly and asked the footman to fetch her cloak and gloves. She had to wait for the footman to return from the cloakroom with her things, and her suitor waited with her. Would this importunate fellow follow her into the street?

      When the footman returned with her cloak and held it out for her, the man seized it and held it up for her. Julia cast him a freezing look. There was a movement behind her, and as she turned to see what it was, a male voice said, “Sorry, sir, the lady is already committed to me for escort home.”

      She looked up into Stonehaven’s face. He was gazing at the other man with a cold stare, his hands outstretched to take the cloak. For a moment her swain did not move, his face set in obdurate lines. Then, with ill grace, he handed over the cloak to his rival.

      “Of course, Lord Stonehaven,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “I did not realize that this bird of paradise belonged to you.”

      Julia could not suppress a gasp of astonished anger. Stonehaven’s jaw tightened.

      “Since she is a woman,” Stonehaven said, “not a cat or a piece of jewelry, I would hardly say that she ‘belongs’ to me. However, Miss Nunnelly has favored me by allowing me to take her home this evening.”

      “Of course. Women of her sort always prefer a greater income.”

      “I shall choose to ignore that insult this time,” Stonehaven said in clipped tones. “However, if you offer another to me or to Miss Nunnelly, you shall find that I am not so lenient.”

      Stonehaven turned without waiting for a reply and draped the cloak around Julia’s shoulders.

      “Thank you.” Julia kept her voice cool and calm. She was not about to let it show that the man’s insult had jolted her. Instead she turned toward the persistent suitor and said, “I think you will find that what women of any station prefer is courtesy.”

      She swung around, taking her gloves from the footman, and walked out the door, which the footman jumped to open for her. She heard Lord Stonehaven’s chuckle behind her as he followed her, pulling on his own gloves.

      “A wicked riposte, Miss Nunnelly.”

      “And quite true, my lord.” She was glad that the obnoxious fellow, for all his other faults, had at least spoken Stonehaven’s title. Now she would not have to worry about slipping up. “I wonder how it was that the plain Mr. Grey became Lord Stonehaven.”

      “I was Mr. Grey a number of years before I was Stonehaven,” he replied easily, coming up beside her and taking her elbow in his hand. “Though I do hope that no one referred to me as plain Mr. Grey.”

      Julia