Suddenly You(64)

“He is respectable, educated, unmarried, and wealthy—what more could you want?”

“He is not educated,” Amanda countered with barely suppressed vehemence. “Or at least, if he is, his knowledge is limited to one subject. Himself.”

“He knows a great deal about gemstones,” Jack remarked blandly.

Amanda was tempted to hit him, right there before the mass of dancing couples. Reading her expression, Devlin laughed and tried to appear contrite. “I’m sorry. Truly. Here, I’ll make it up to you. Tell me whom you most want to meet tonight, and I’ll see to it at once. Anyone at all.”

“Don’t bother,” she said grudgingly. “Being subjected to Mr. Stephenson for so long has put me in a foul temper. I’m only fit company for you.”

His eyes gleamed with heathen laughter. “Dance with me, then.”

He pulled her into the waltz with splendid economy of movement, somehow compensating for the radical difference in their heights. Amanda was struck anew how tall he was, the strength and sleek power of his body concealed in civilized evening attire.

As she might have expected, he was an excellent dancer, not merely proficient but graceful. He led her firmly, allowing no opportunity for a misstep. His hand was strong on her back, providing just the right amount of support and pressure to guide her.

The smell of starched linen mixed with the scent of his skin, salty and clean and spiced with a hint of cologne. Amanda hated it that Jack smelled so much better than any other man she knew. If only she could bottle the essence and pour it on some other man.

The ebullient music flowed around them, and Amanda felt herself relaxing in Devlin’s firm hold. She had seldom danced in her youth, since most men of her acquaintance had seemed to think she was too dignified to enjoy such an activity. Although she had not been precisely a wallflower, she had certainly not been in high demand as a dance partner.

As they turned and circled amidst the other couples, Amanda noticed the subtle changes in Devlin’s face. In the weeks since their separation, it seemed that he had lost some of his jauntiness and swagger. He appeared older, with new brackets forming on either side of his mouth, and a pair of creases that frequently appeared between his heavy brows. He had lost weight, which threw his cheekbones into new prominence and emphasized the hard angle of his jaw. And there were shadows beneath his eyes that attested to a regular lack of sleep.

“You look very tired,” she said bluntly. “You should sleep more.”

“I’ve been languishing for want of you,” he said in a voice so light and mocking that it implied just the opposite. “Is that the reply you were hoping for?”

She stiffened at the soft jeer. “Let me go. The strap on my slipper has come loose.”

“Not yet.” His hand remained at the center of her back. “I have some good news to share with you. The first issue of Unfinished Lady has sold out completely. Installment number two is in such high demand that I’m doubling the print order this month.”

“Oh. That is indeed good news.” But the pleasure she ordinarily would have felt was undercut by the terrible tension that stretched between them. “Jack, my slipper—”

“Dammit,” he muttered, stopping the swirling waltz and leading her away from the dancing.

Amanda held onto his arm as he guided her to a gilded chair set at the side of the drawing room. Silently she cursed the slipper and the delicate ribbon that tied it to her ankle, feeling it loosen until she could hardly keep the thing on.

“Sit,” came Jack’s curt order, and he knelt beside her, reaching for her foot.

“Stop that,” Amanda snapped, aware that they were attracting many amused and curious glances.

A few guests were even tittering behind fans or gloved hands at the spectacle of proper Miss Amanda Briars being attended to by a notorious rake like Jack Devlin. “People are staring,” she said in a softer tone as he drew the slipper from her foot.

“Settle your feathers. I’ve seen slipper-ribbons come loose before. In fact, some women even arrange it on purpose as an excuse to show off their ankles to their partners.”

“If you are implying that I would use such a stupid pretext to—to—well, you are even more insufferably conceited than I thought!” Amanda flushed with embarrassment and glared at him as he glanced down at the flimsy slipper with a sudden smile.

“Why, Miss Briars,” he murmured. “How frivolous of you.”

She had purchased the dancing slippers on impulse. Unlike her other shoes, they had been designed with no thought to functionality or quality. They were hardly anything more than a thin sole and a one-inch heel held together with bits of lace and ribbon, and tiny embroidered flowers at the toe. One of the frail silk ribbons that affixed the shoe to her ankle had snapped in two, and Jack knotted the two frayed ends with a few deft twists of his fingers.

He assumed a properly impassive expression as he replaced the slipper on her foot and wrapped the ribbon around her ankle. However, there was a betraying remnant of laughter in his eyes, making it clear that he was enjoying her helplessness, and the attention they were attracting. Amanda kept her face averted, focusing fiercely on her hands as they twisted together in her lap.

Devlin took care to keep from exposing an untoward glimpse of Amanda’s ankle as he replaced the shoe, his fingers cupped briefly around the back of her foot to hold it steady. She had never liked her legs, for they were sturdy and too short. Odes were never written to a woman with practical ankles, only to those who had slender, dainty ones. Yet her unromantic ankles were exquisitely sensitive, and she couldn’t keep from quivering as she felt the clasp of Devlin’s fingers, the heat of his hands penetrating the silk barrier of her stocking and burning the skin beneath.