Regency Desire. Margaret McPhee

saying that Miss Faversham has quite set her mind on him.’

      ‘She ain’t got a chance in hell,’ said Tilly.

      ‘She’s an heiress,’ retorted Sara.

      ‘She’d have to be,’ said Ellen. ‘She’s got a backside on her the size of a horse and a face to match.’

      Tilly sniggered.

      ‘He’d have to be blind to go for her,’ Ellen said. ‘It’s about breeding and money,’ protested Sara.

      ‘Just like a horse,’ said Tilly with a giggle.

      ‘Enough, girls,’ Alice said with a chuckle.

      But when her friends finally left and the maids came in to remove the used tea tray, the image of Razeby dancing with all of those women, one of whom would be his wife, lingered.

      For all the teasing and the jest, she knew what Ellen and Tilly had been doing—trying to protect her. As if she needed protecting! As if she were hurting from the split with Razeby! She felt mortified just at the thought, and a determination to prove to them otherwise, that it was just as she said, Razeby had never meant anything serious to her.

      A vision of him sneaked into her mind. Standing before her at White’s, with those smouldering brown eyes that sent spirals darting through her body. And it was as if she felt again the rasp of his cheek beneath her lips and smelled the scent of him in her nose. And felt that sense of heady power. And despite everything, she smiled at the memory. She could not help herself.

      It was a very dangerous line she was walking. A knife edge, just like being on stage at the theatre. Avoiding avoidance. Temptation—for him and maybe even for her. Showing him what he could not have. But she could not turn back from it. Not when there was still clearly work to be done.

       Chapter Ten

      Within Lady Hadley’s stifling ballroom a few days later, Razeby and Linwood were standing by the glass doors that led out into the back garden, breathing in the draft of cool air.

      ‘How goes your search?’ Linwood asked.

      ‘Well enough.’

      ‘Almack’s, matchmaking, picnics and balls… You have been busy.’ Linwood paused. ‘And yet you do not appear to have narrowed down the field.’

      ‘Keeping my options open.’ Razeby took a sip of champagne.

      Linwood gave a nod of understanding. ‘White’s betting book has Miss Faversham as the favourite.’

      Razeby said nothing.

      ‘With Lady Esme Fraser as a close second.’

      ‘There are better alliances for Razeby out there.’

      ‘Maybe, but it seems you find a reason to reject every suitable woman who comes your way.’ Linwood held his glass up to the light and examined it.

      Razeby felt the slight tension in his jaw. ‘Nonsense.’

      ‘Indeed, one might almost think that your heart was not in it, Razeby.’

      His heart.? Razeby thought of Alice at White’s. Of the mischievous look in her eyes, of the caress of her breath and the warm tease of her lips. He thought of her in Dryden’s and of that heart-stopping moment in Hyde Park. All the tension that rippled between them. And the way he felt when he saw her, when he was with her, when he touched her. He pushed the memories away, crushed the feelings that were coursing through his mind and body, knowing they were something he could not allow.

      ‘What has heart to do with it?’ he said grimly. ‘It is about consolidating positions, about power and money, and safeguarding the future. Duty, my friend, nothing else. We all know that.’

      ‘And Alice?’

      ‘Alice has nothing to do with it.’ He said it too quickly. ‘It is over between us.’ If he said it enough times maybe he would come to believe it.

      ‘So you keep saying,’ said Linwood. ‘But from where I was sitting in White’s the other night, it looked anything but over.’

      ‘You are mistaken.’

      Linwood said nothing, just looked at him.

      ‘We are both adults. We both understand how these things work.’

      Still Linwood said nothing.

      ‘Hell, Linwood! We still move in the same circles. What do you expect? That we should snub one another? Alice is not like that. I am not like that.’

      ‘So it would seem.’ Linwood raised his eyebrows by the tiniest degree. ‘And you do get to forgo Almack’s tomorrow.’

      ‘I am the charity’s patron, for heaven’s sake! I can hardly miss their benefit ball. It is just unfortunate that it happens to coincide with Almack’s.’

      ‘Most unfortunate,’ agreed Linwood with his usual deadpan expression, but Razeby knew exactly what his friend was thinking.

      And the problem was Linwood was not far wrong.

      ‘Are you sure about this, Alice?’ Venetia set the fan back down upon the dressing table in Alice’s bedchamber.

      ‘Frew has invited me and it’s for a very good cause.’ Alice pushed the last hairpin into place and turned away from the peering glass to look at her friend. ‘The Benevolent Society for the Assistance of the Unfortunate and Homeless of London.’

      ‘You do know that Razeby is their patron.’

      ‘Of course I know.’

      ‘And that as such he will be there tonight.’

      ‘I can’t let that stop me. If I avoided every place I thought he’d be, I’d never set foot outside the door.’

      ‘Alice…’

      ‘What?’ She tried to look all innocent. ‘It’s the truth!’ And it was, just not all of it.

      ‘You do not have to do this.’

      Alice met her friend’s eyes directly. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I do, Venetia. If I avoid him, what message does it send all of London? I’ll not turn away from a single situation.’

      ‘Proving to the world that he did not hurt you?’

      Proving to herself. Proving to him. That was what this was about.

      ‘Or punishing him by showing him just what he has lost?’ Venetia asked.

      ‘Maybe a bit of both. I’m not afraid to face him, Venetia.’

      ‘You are not afraid of much, Alice Flannigan.’ Venetia’s eyes held hers. ‘I heard you beat him at Dryden’s.’

      ‘I beat them all,’ Alice said carefully.

      ‘At vingt-et-un,’ pointed out Venetia. ‘Razeby’s game.’

      ‘So?’ Alice gave a shrug, but she knew Venetia understood something of the game’s significance between them.

      ‘You are playing dangerously with him.’

      ‘We always played dangerously, me and Razeby.’

      ‘Such games do not always turn out the way we think.’ Venetia’s warning, though veiled, was unmistakable.

      ‘Maybe not, but sometimes for the sake of our pride we have to play them,’ Alice said and met Venetia’s gaze. ‘I’m getting on with my life, Venetia. I’ll not let Razeby get in the way of that. And if, along the way, he’s made to feel just a tiny bit of regret, is that such a very bad thing?’

      ‘As long as you know what you are doing,