Best of Both Rogues Page 2

  A footman stood just inside the doors and, noting Ben’s approach, held out a silver tray. “Champagne, sir?”

  Ben grabbed a glass and adopted a swagger as he entered the Eldridge ballroom. If he behaved as if he belonged there, no one would question him. They never did.

  * * *

  “You mustn’t fret,” Eve Thorne’s sister-in-law murmured in her ear. “He will be here.”

  “I’m not fretting.”

  Helena’s blue-green gaze dropped to the handkerchief Eve hadn’t realized she’d been twisting into a tight coil. It was an accurate reflection of what Sir Jonathan Hackberry’s tardiness was doing to her insides. Her fiancé had promised to arrive early to Lord and Lady Eldridge’s ball, where their betrothal would be announced within the hour, and he had yet to make an appearance.

  A thread of apprehension wound its way around Eve’s heart and held it captive. What if Jonathan didn’t come?

  Giving up on following the conversation between Lady Eldridge and two ladies from the Mayfair Ladies’ Charitable Society, Eve stole another glance over her shoulder.

  “Sir Jonathan will be here,” Helena repeated.

  Eve repaid Helena’s kindness with a halfhearted smile. Her brother’s new bride was more than a sister-in-law to Eve; she was a dear friend. Eve didn’t want Helena to know her reassurance did nothing to calm the tempest brewing inside her.

  Everything will be well. There is no cause for worry. Eve had learned long ago these were empty platitudes people tossed around when they didn’t know what else to say. But Helena meant well, and Eve loved her for trying to ease her worries.

  Sebastian wore a scowl as he reentered the ballroom. He pulled Eve and Helena aside when he reached them. “Hackberry wasn’t playing cards.”

  Eve had known it would be a pointless trip. Jonathan was not a gambling man. He was an intellectual, more interested in archaeology and anthropology than loo, but Sebastian seemed to need something to do, so she had suggested he check the card room.

  Helena looked back and forth between Eve and Sebastian, then forced a bright smile, her dimples showing. “We haven’t searched the refreshment room yet.”

  “An excellent idea. Shall we?” Sebastian held his arm out to his wife, but Eve shook her head.

  “I will wait with Lady Eldridge in case Sir Jonathan arrives and cannot find me.”

  “Are you certain?” Her brother drew Helena closer as if their short separation while he visited the card room had been days instead of a half hour. Helena tipped her head and gazed at him from beneath her lashes.

  Eve couldn’t help smiling at the newlyweds. She appreciated their attempts to include her, but it was obvious they would rather be alone. “I am certain.” She shooed them away. “Go. Sir Jonathan will be here any moment.”

  She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t make her out to be a liar. Being abandoned by a second husband-to-be would be too mortifying to bear.

  This time when she scanned the crowd, her heartbeat skipped when she thought she saw Ben. She almost wilted on the floor when she realized it wasn’t him. Lady Eldridge swore Eve’s former betrothed wouldn’t step one foot into Eldridge House, even though he had been turning up like a bad penny at the assemblies ever since his return to London. The earl had taken extra precautions tonight and hired additional men to guard the doors at his wife’s request. Nevertheless, Eve had learned never to underestimate Ben’s ability to get in wherever he wasn’t wanted.

  And she didn’t want him here tonight.

  She had waited far too long for Ben to come back to her. In two years, he hadn’t sent a single word of explanation, and now that he had returned, she no longer cared what he had to say.

  Liar. Eve huffed in response to the whisper at the back of her mind. Well, she didn’t want to care. That must count for something.

  Lady Eldridge and her guests moved on from discussing their latest charity efforts and began gossiping together. Having been the topic of wagging tongues too often, Eve had no desire to join them. She wandered a few steps away before checking to see if the countess had noticed. She hadn’t.

  The sea of familiar faces around Eve began to blur as she resumed the lookout for Jonathan. Perhaps he was lost again. He may be perfectly capable of traveling to Egypt without incident, but he couldn’t navigate a town house to save his life. He often took wrong turns on his way to the men’s retiring room and wound up in the host’s library. Sebastian had even retrieved him from the corridor outside Lord and Lady Sethwick’s family rooms once.

  Eve couldn’t search their hosts’ town house for him, but a quick circle of the ballroom might be wise. With Lady Eldridge occupied, Eve slipped into the crowd. She wouldn’t go far, and she would be back before Sebastian and Helena returned, hopefully with Jonathan at her side. She weaved her way toward the perimeter of the room where there was no traffic and stopped to get her bearings. If she headed toward the bank of French doors at the back of the ballroom and looped around, she could make quick work of her search.

  She squinted at the guests crowded into the ballroom dancing a quadrille, even though she knew Jonathan wouldn’t be on the dance floor either. He preferred to observe from the sidelines. Oh, how she missed dancing with a skilled partner. A sigh slipped past her lips.

  Heavens. She hadn’t meant to sound so wistful. Jonathan was a good man, a fine gentleman who accepted her just as she was, scandalous past and all. And she cared a great deal for him. A life without dancing was a small price to pay for his amiable company.

  With a decisive nod, she swung in the direction of the French doors and squeaked in surprise. Benjamin Hillary, the blasted rat, was headed her way. She froze, not knowing which way to go but certain she didn’t want to talk to him. He hadn’t tried to speak with her since that night at Lady Chattington’s ball three weeks earlier, and she liked it that way.

  Or she should. She hated that she was a tad bit disappointed he’d been keeping his distance.

  Ben hadn’t spotted her yet, since his gaze was fixed on the dance floor. Whipping her head around, she searched for a place to go.

  The alcove. No, the plant!

  She didn’t have time for debate. Without another thought, she dashed for a deserted corner of the ballroom and squeezed behind the potted palms and ferns.

  Saints above, what if she missed her betrothal announcement because she was hiding in a corner? Or worse, what if the evening ended with her brother challenging Ben to another duel? She couldn’t hope to intervene a second time to save Ben’s life.

  Damn the rogue. He was going to ruin her wedding again.

  Two

  Ben made a slow circle of the brightly lit ballroom, stopping occasionally to study the couples as they sashayed past, their cheeks pink from exertion. After several moments, he was satisfied Lord Wellham wasn’t among the dancers, not that Ben was surprised. If his memory served, the earl favored gambling over gamboling.

  Reaching a secluded corner near a dark alcove, he paused to check once more for his quarry before he sought out the card room.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice hissed. “You are not on the guest list.”

  “Pardon?” Ben spun toward the speaker and came up short. His eyebrows veered toward each other. “How do you know?” he whispered back to the mass of green palm fronds.

  “Because I helped make the list.” The plant’s fronds parted, and Eve Thorne’s stern glare greeted him.

  What the devil was she doing?

  Her frown deepened when he simply stared, at a loss for words. “Do you wish to die, Mr. Hillary?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Let me guess, you’ve been attacked by a man-eating plant. Are you in need of rescue, Kitten?”

  She growled softly and the fronds snapped back into place. Ben checked the surrounding area to be certain they hadn’t earned any unwanted attent
ion, then peered around the massive greenery. Eve was wedged against the wall, her yellow chiffon skirts crushed against the large pot. Her chest rose and fell in rapid movements, drawing his attention to the modest swell of her breasts peeking above her lacy neckline. A rosy glow infused her ivory skin, making the sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks almost unnoticeable.

  God, he had missed her—her freckles, her pouty lips, her soulful brown eyes. He had been smitten from the moment he had spied her at the theater during the little Season, and two years on a faraway continent had done nothing to cool his ardor.

  “What are you doing back there, Miss Thorne, and shouldn’t you have a chaperone?”

  She crossed her arms as if erecting a wall between them. “God only knows why, but I am trying to save your skin, Benjamin James Arran Hillary.”

  Damnation. He had almost forgotten he’d been burdened with so many names, and that she had a habit of invoking every one when she was perturbed. His smile expanded. Despite her pretense of indifference, she was worried for him. “Am I to conclude your skulking about means you still care?”

  “I care about Lady Eldridge, and I do not want to see her ball ruined by you and Sebastian coming to fisticuffs. You really must leave before he sees you and demands another meeting on the field.”

  Crossing paths with Sebastian Thorne didn’t concern Ben. Her brother’s need to defend her reputation after Ben jilted her had been satisfied three weeks earlier in a duel, and Thorne would not issue a second challenge for fear of losing. Ben suspected neither of them wanted to risk looking like fools again either. Instead of dueling with pistols or swords as any other normal men would do, they had allowed Eve to choose the weapons. She had chosen gloves.

  He scowled. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous it looked for two men to engage in a slapping match?” The gents at Brooks’s hadn’t stopped talking about the duel for days, and Ben had endured the brunt of the teasing since he’d followed his youngest brother’s advice and allowed Thorne to win.

  Eve’s smile radiated with self-satisfaction. “Since no one died, I would say I made an excellent choice.”

  He grudgingly admitted her cleverness had managed to resolve the conflict without bloodshed—or much, anyway. Ben had walked away with a cut on his cheek and a nasty bruise, thanks to her brother filling his glove with pebbles. But bruised pride and a bruised mug were small prices to pay to see Eve’s position in Society restored.

  Eve pursed her lips before her scolding continued. “Just because I saved you last time doesn’t mean I can stop Sebastian from killing you if he finds you here tonight. You really must leave before he realizes you have sneaked in. How did you make it past the footmen?”

  Ben casually scanned the crowd, uninterested in discussing his undignified entrance into Eldridge House or her brother. “I don’t see Thorne, which means he is unlikely to see me.”

  “Sebastian escorted his wife to the refreshment room,” Eve said, “but they will return any moment.”

  Ah, yes. Her brother had taken a wife recently, a young widow from Scotland. “I expected matrimony to tame the beast.”

  She wrinkled her adorable turned-up nose at him. “Do not speak of matrimony and beasts in the same sentence. It reminds me to keep my distance lest I strangle you. Accidentally, of course.”

  “Completely by accident, I’m sure.” He chuckled under his breath. “Although I imagine you would employ a hefty dose of cheerfulness in the process, wouldn’t you, Miss Thorne?”

  “Yes, well.” A touch of mirth slipped past her stony facade, making her eyes shine. “Mama always said happy is she who performs a good deed.”

  “Why, Miss Thorne!” he said with mock surprise.

  A laugh slipped from her—no dainty fairy’s titter, but a hearty sound that made him fall in love with her all over again.

  “You never could stay cross for long, Eve. I always admired that about you.”

  “I am still cross with you, Mr. Hillary.” And yet she was still smiling too. This was the Eve he remembered: joyful, witty, and capable of chasing away any darkness lurking about.

  “I see I’ve managed to improve my standing already,” he said. “I believe when we last spoke you were furious and declared me a loathsome, fork-tongued serpent of Hades.”

  The pronounced arch of her brow said she stood by her opinion, even if her fury had died down to a mere irritation.

  He’d missed this, bantering with her. No one had ever challenged him like Eve. He extended his hand, needing to touch her. “Will you please come from behind the plants before someone notices me talking to them and thinks I have formed an attachment?”

  Her smile faded. “Ben, you cannot stay. I’m sorry.”

  She had no cause to feel sorry, but he did. Ben had been living with regret every day since he’d left. He owed her an apology even though words could never make up for what he’d done.

  “Stand up with me, Eve. Grant me one dance and I won’t ask you again.”

  At least not until the next set. He had no plans of walking away from her again, but a gentleman never tipped his hand when setting his sights on a young lady.

  She licked her lips, hesitated, then shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  It wouldn’t be right? Because it would displease her brother? Thorne could go to hell. Ben had things to say to Eve, and he would say them one way or another. He dropped his hand to his side. “Very well. If you will not come out, I will join you.”

  She gasped as he made a move to wedge himself into the crowded space. “Wait!”

  He halted and smiled indulgently. “Yes, Miss Thorne?” The beginning of a waltz drifted across the ballroom, a merry composition he didn’t recognize after his time away.

  Eve loved the waltz. When he had courted her, he’d waited close to the entrance in order to sign her dance card first. He hated the thought of another man holding her close, her beautiful eyes sparkling as some eager buck led her around the floor. Ben wanted to be the only man to ever hold her.

  He offered his most charming smile. “It is a waltz.” He drew out the last word, trying to tempt her.

  Interest flashed across her pretty face, but she didn’t budge from her hiding spot.

  “Come on, Kitten. We were always perfectly matched for this dance.”

  Her dark lashes fluttered like the wings of a moth drawn to a flame. She looked toward the ceiling as if searching for an escape, but eventually her gaze settled on him. “If I dance with you, then will you leave?”

  He fought back a victorious smile. “I will.” After he found Wellham and had a word with the earl.

  Eve’s eyes narrowed on him. “One dance, Mr. Hillary, then you must leave. I will not be charmed into allowing another, and you cannot work your way back into my good graces. I would advise against even trying. Please, give me your word.”

  He wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep, not again. “The dance will be over before you negotiate the terms. I suppose I must join you after all.” Shrugging his shoulders, he moved to squeeze into the corner with her.

  “No!” She held up a hand. “I am coming, but first make certain no one is watching.”

  Ben glanced around the room. No one seemed to be paying him any notice, but it was a dark corner. And rather dull. Or it would be if Eve hadn’t chosen to surprise him. “No one is looking.”

  “One more thing.” Her cheeks turned scarlet as she slipped from her hiding place. “Please don’t call me Kitten. I am not that girl anymore.”

  He nodded in understanding, sobering. Two years had changed him, and the scandal he’d created seemed to have changed her as well. Eve seemed stronger. More capable of making him toe the line, if she wished it.

  He held out his arm. She hesitated to touch him. Once she had made her decision, however, she gripped his arm and attempted to drag him toward the dance floo
r.

  “You are an eager one, Miss Thorne. Missed my company on the dance floor?”

  He caught a glimpse of her dismayed frown before she ducked her head and urged him toward the middle of the floor. He followed, dodging couples as they went. Once they reached the thick of the crowd, he took her in his arms to lead her around the floor. A shocking scarlet blush had invaded her cheeks. Her gaze shot around as if looking for someone. The meaning of her odd behavior dawned on him, and a bitter taste coated his tongue.

  “You don’t want to be seen with me, do you, Miss Thorne?”

  He expected a clever retort, a denial, or a frank affirmation, not the quivering of her bottom lip as her shimmering brown gaze lifted toward him.

  “Oh, Ben. Why didn’t you just stay away?”

  * * *

  Eve silently cursed the break of her voice. She no longer wanted to have butterflies in her stomach when Ben was near, or for her heart to drum a rapid staccato. She didn’t want to sigh with pleasure as they glided around the ballroom floor, moving together as if they were one, or to cling to him as the gentle pressure of his hand on her back made her bones feel as if they were dissolving. And she certainly shouldn’t revel in the sensations she didn’t want to feel.

  Ben’s eyes darkened to a stormy blue as she held his gaze through the turn. She forced herself to look away, her gaze landing on his chest as a reminder that no heart resided beneath his charcoal gray waistcoat—the one that molded to his lean muscles and fit him like a second skin.

  Lud! Why must he look like heaven dished up with a silver spoon tonight? She swallowed another sigh. Desire was a voracious creature that couldn’t be trusted. The true measure of a man was the kindness of his soul, and she was certain Ben’s soul was as dark as night.

  His fingers tightened on her back as if he sensed she was teetering on the edge of running away. “Eve,” he said on a breath, “I owe you an apology. Not a day has passed that I haven’t regretted walking away from you.”