The Bridal Quest by Candace Camp Page B

her hand, and then his gaze slid past Francesca to Irene.
    His eyes were not leering or bold, simply watchful, but there was a directness in them that was slightly unsettling. There was something different about him that intrigued her. She realized that she wanted to know more about him, that she wanted to talk to him, and the fact that she felt that way both surprised and annoyed her.
    "Pray, allow me to introduce you to Lady Irene Wyngate," Francesca went on smoothly, turning from him to Irene. "Lady Irene, I would like you to meet Gideon, the Earl of Radbourne. Lord Radbourne is Lady Pencully's great-nephew."
    It dawned on Irene then exactly who their visitor was. He was the long-lost heir to the Bankes family fortune and name, around whom so much gossip had swirled over the last few months. Though she knew no one who could say they had actually met the man, she had heard a great deal about him. She had been told that he was a criminal, found in prison and hauled out of it by a powerful family member. Others had declared that he was mad, still others that he was simple-minded. A few had hinted at perversions the depths of which they could not even name in front of a lady. A number had held that he was deformed, hideous to look at.
    Obviously the ones who had made the last assertion were wrong, Irene thought. She extended her hand, schooling her face into a polite expression that she hoped masked the leap of interest she had felt when she realized who he was. "How do you do, Lord Radbourne?"
    "Lady Wyngate." He took her hand, giving her the same brief sketch of a bow that he had given Francesca.
    Irene felt a little frisson of excitement run through her hand at the brief touch of Radbourne's fingers upon hers. It was absurd, of course, she told herself—the merest of touches, nothing more than a polite exchange that had happened on countless occasions. It meant nothing, indicated nothing ... yet she could not deny that what she had felt was different from all the other times she had given her hand in greeting.
    Irritation welled in her—with this man, with Francesca for manipulating her into meeting him, but most of all with herself for feeling this hitch of excitement and interest. It was most unlike her, and Irene found it decidedly annoying. She was, after all, a woman who always knew what she was about.
    There was a moment of awkward silence as the earl looked at Irene and she returned his gaze coldly. She told herself that he was no doubt used to any unmarried woman he met fawning over him. Whatever the rumors about him, he was, after all, an earl and reputedly quite wealthy. She had no idea why he would want to meet her, but she was determined that he see that she had no interest in him.
    Francesca cast a glance from Irene to the earl and back, then said, "A lovely ball, isn't it? I do hope that you are enjoying the party, Lord Radbourne."
    The earl barely spared her a glance. Looking at Irene, he said, "May I have this dance, my lady?"
    "I do not care to dance," Irene responded bluntly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Francesca's eyebrows vault upward at this bit of rudeness, but she ignored her.
    Lord Radbourne, however, did not even flinch at her set-down. To Irene's astonishment, amusement flickered for an instant in his face, as he replied, "That is good, then, as I am not at all proficient at dancing. Why don't we simply take a stroll and talk?"
    His effrontery left Irene speechless. But Francesca, a trace of laughter in her voice, spoke up beside her. "That sounds like an excellent idea. While you two are occupied, I shall pay my regards to our hostess."
    With those words, Francesca turned and hurried away, leaving Irene alone with Lord Radbourne. There was little she could do except take the arm he extended, for she could see that they were the object of several interested gazes. If she gave him the direct cut now and stalked off, ignoring his arm, it would be gossiped about all over Mayfair