Free A Compromised Lady by Elizabeth Rolls Page A

few people sliding away through the crowd at their approach meant nothing, that the speculative sideways glances were mere curiosity, nothing more.
    Lord Dunhaven appeared not to notice, as though such things were beneath him. Instead he regaled Thea with an exact account of all the various improvements he had undertaken at his principal country seat, the refurbished stables, the rearrangement of the principal apartments.
    ‘I should like very much to show it all to you, Miss Winslow,’ he said, after telling her how his new billiard room was laid out.
    Before Thea could do more than skim over all the possible ramifications of this, she prickled with sudden awareness as a tall figure came up beside her. She turned sharply and warmth flooded her, dispelling the growing chill.
    Richard, immaculately turned out in utterly correct evening garb.
    ‘Good evening, Miss Winslow. Servant, Dunhaven.’
    Thea blinked. Anything less servant-like than Richard’s clipped tones would have been hard to imagine. He sounded as though he’d swallowed a razor blade made of ice. Even his bow held an arrogance that reminded her all at once that he was after all the son of an earl, one of the damn-your-eyes Blakehursts: assured, at home in the ton for all his scholarly nature.
    The contrast between the two men was startling. Very few would have described Richard’s evening clothes as stylish, but somehow the comfortably fitted coat over broad, lean shoulders had a greater elegance than Dunhaven’s tightly fitted and, she suspected, padded coat. Dunhaven dripped with expensive fobs, rings and a very large diamond blazed in his cravat. Richard’s jewellery consisted of a pearl nestled quietly in his cravat and a plain gold ring.
    Dunhaven looked his disdain. ‘Ah, Mr Blakehurst, is it not? How surprising to see you here.’
    A spurt of anger shot through Thea at the sneering tone, but Richard merely looked amused.
    ‘Is it, Dunhaven? I assure you that I overcome my boredom with this sort of thing quite regularly enough for the hostesses not to completely despair of my attendance.’ He smiled at Thea. ‘Good evening, Miss Winslow. May I take you to find some champagne?’
    Thea blinked. As simple as that.
    ‘Certainly, sir. That would be lovely. I’m sure his lordship will excuse me.’
    Dunhaven’s hand came across and settled in hard possession on Thea’s fingers, clamping them to his arm. ‘There is no need, Miss Winslow. I shall be happy to escort you and find you something suitable for a lady to drink. Some ratafia, I think you would prefer.’
    Not the usual paralysing fear, but anger surged through her. With a sharp movement, she slid her fingers from under Dunhaven’s grip. Telling her what to do was bad enough, but presuming to tell her what she would like was going entirely too far. Besides, she didn’t like ratafia.
    ‘Dunhaven! Just the man I was looking for.’
    The newcomer was familiar to Thea. Tall, with jet-black hair and brilliant, deep blue eyes—surely…
    Shock lurched through her—yes, it was David’s friend, Julian Trentham…only he had succeeded now to his father’s title—Viscount Braybrook.

    He smiled at her and bowed. ‘Miss Winslow. Braybrook at your service. Friend of your brother’s, if you recall? You won’t mind if I steal Dunhaven, will you? Blakehurst here will look after you.’ He glanced at Richard, ‘Won’t you, old chap?’
    Richard’s mouth twitched. ‘I think that could be managed.’
    Thea’s gaze narrowed, despite her suddenly pounding heart. There was something wicked in Lord Braybrook’s limpid blue eyes. However, she wasn’t fool enough to reject a lifeline, no matter how it presented itself. ‘Of…of course.’ She seized the opportunity to step away from Dunhaven. Richard caught her hand and set it on his arm, anchoring it there and again that shock of awareness jolted through her at his touch. Dazed, she met Braybrook’s gaze, but the bright eyes told her