*
Susannah stood at Willow Dorning’s side, in charity with life—and with him. He’d shown her new intimacies, such as she’d not dreamed men and women could share. Later, in the privacy of her boudoir, she’d examine the emotions that had gone with the passionate sensations, and she’d decide what to do about them.
“They make a handsome couple,” she said as Mr. Tresham led Della to the middle of the dance floor. “He might try a smile, though.”
“Or Lady Della might.”
Was Will off balance too? His tone was cool, possibly annoyed. Worry nipped at the heels of Susannah’s well-being, for she hadn’t exactly set a good example for Della, had she?
“You’re tall enough to tell me if Effington’s here,” she said. “I want him to see that Della has attracted the notice of a ducal heir.”
“I don’t see Effington,” Will replied in that same composed, unreadable tone, “but he’ll hear of this dance. If the gossip at the punch bowl is to be believed, Lady Della is the first woman Tresham has led out this Season.”
The introduction began, with men bowing and ladies curtsying in a graceful choreography of manners and fashion.
“That is the best news,” Susannah said, her toe tapping. “Della deserves to be noticed in a positive sense, to have the hounds panting at her feet.”
Will took a half step back. “Susannah, this is not a horse auction, with the broodmares going to the highest bidders. Those are people on the dance floor, with hearts and lives and hopes.”
The orchestra was in good form, the first violin embellishing the melody with lively appoggiaturas and trills, while Will seemed determined to introduce a sour note.
“I know what you’re about, Willow Dorning,” Susannah said as the conversation around them grew louder in competition with the orchestra. “You are disconcerted by what happened earlier, and so you’re on your dignity. I should be on my dignity too, but I’m happy for my sister.”
Also worried, because Mr. Tresham’s expression hadn’t lightened in the least. He and Della were two lovely, grim dancers amid a sea of gaiety.
“I am not disconcerted,” Will said as a warm caress whispered over Susannah’s right shoulder blade. “I am in awe. Had the Bard shared passion with a woman like you, he would have written a hundred more sonnets, each so incendiary, the words would have caused the printing presses to spontaneously ignite.”
All over again, Susannah’s knees went weak, her heart beat faster, and her mind gave up forming thoughts. If she’d had a tail, she would have wagged it against Will’s knees.
That caress came again, secret, soft, sweet.
“The world has gone daft.”
Ash Dorning’s unhappy observation several caresses later gave Susannah a start.
“Mr. Dorning, good evening. I hope you’re enjoying the gathering?” Susannah’s voice was even, but behind her, she could feel Will smirking, the rotter.
The handsome, passionate, imaginative rotter, whom Susannah could not wait to share a secluded alcove with again.
“Good evening, my lady, Will. And no, I am not enjoying myself. That’s Tresham doing the pretty with our Lady Della, and it’s my dance.”
Damn and blast. Why must somebody’s feelings always be hurt?
“I’m sure Lady Della will spare you another dance,” Will said. “Tresham’s invitation doubtless caught her off guard. Are we still in want of Sycamore’s company?”
The music was whirling through a crescendo, and Ash merely nodded, his gaze on the dancers.
Drat all younger siblings to the nursery. Susannah had wanted to waltz with Will, but not until Della had turned down the room with her ducal heir. Now, the Dorning men, en masse, would exit stage left in search of their youthful prodigal.
“Are they arguing?” Ash Dorning muttered. “A gent doesn’t argue with a lady. Perhaps Tresham needs a refresher on basic manners.”
Will’s hand clamped on his brother’s elbow. “The lady might be the one in need of the refresher, and that’s not your place.”
“Willow?” Susannah half turned at the annoyance in Will’s voice. “Della had little choice. If she’d refused Tresham, he would have taken that amiss.”
“Somebody has taken something amiss,” Ash said, shrugging off Will’s grasp. “The talk in the men’s retiring room is two cuckoos make a very interesting pair. Mannering mentioned seeing a green garter the same color as Lady Della’s dress in the corridor upstairs, and Tresham followed Lady Della up the steps earlier this evening like a hound on the scent of a bi—of an attractive lady dog.”
The violins broke into an ascending flourish followed by stirring, fortissimo down-bows, and Susannah abruptly wished she had stayed home.