Sins and Scandals Collection. Nicola Cornick
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wielding an icy sword in one hand and the British flag in the other, clearly meant to represent Alex himself as he conquered yet another swath of virgin territory. There were also drapes of white satin sheathing the staircase to imitate a frozen waterfall and green and red lanterns hung from the ballroom ceiling to emulate the northern lights. The highlight of the entire display was a rather moth-eaten stuffed polar bear standing in the corner of the entrance hall and glaring balefully at all the guests as they arrived. It was all gloriously vulgar, but somehow it worked because Lottie had such brazen style.
“Is it not marvelous?” Lottie beamed. “I excel myself.”
“You certainly do,” Joanna murmured.
“And you are dressed the part, too,” Lottie added, casting an approving glance over Joanna’s white satin evening gown and diamonds. “How inspired! I adore you in the color, Jo darling! The other ladies will all be dressing as debutantes now you have set the fashion!”
“I do not think,” Merryn said unexpectedly, “that all this show will be quite to Lord Grant’s taste, Lottie. He is reputed to be somewhat reserved.”
“Nonsense.” Lottie beamed. “He will adore it.”
“Well, if he does not I am sure he will be too polite to say so,” Merryn said. “I hear he is the very epitome of chivalry.”
“You seem to know a great deal about him,” Joanna teased gently as her sister blushed. “Who can have been singing Lord Grant’s praises to you?”
“No one,” Merryn said, blushing harder. “I have been reading of his exploits, that is all. Mr. Gable has been writing about him in the Courier. He is quite the returning hero. Apparently he turned down an invitation to dine from the Prince Regent, which only made people more determined to secure his attendance at their events. He is the toast of all the clubs.”
Joanna had shuddered at the word hero. “I cannot see what there is to celebrate in a failed attempt to find the Northern Pole. As I understand it, David and Lord Grant set out to discover a northeast trade route via the Pole, failed to do so, became trapped in the ice, David died and Lord Grant sailed home.” She raised her hands heavenward in a gesture of exasperation. “Hardly a cause for celebration. Or am I missing some essential fact here?”
Lottie tapped her wrist disapprovingly with her fan. “Do not be so harsh, Joanna darling. It is all about excitement and danger and the adventure of exploration! Lord Grant is the very essence of the noble hero, silent, solitary and fiendishly attractive, just like David.”
“David,” Joanna said dryly, “was hardly silent and solitary.”
Lottie fidgeted, avoiding her eyes. “I suppose David was rather more forthcoming—”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Joanna said even more dryly.
Lottie grabbed a glass of champagne and drained it in one gulp. “Jo darling, you know I am sorry that I let him seduce me, but he was such a hero that it seemed impolite to refuse!” She fixed Joanna with her big, dark eyes. “And it was not as though you cared!”
“No,” Joanna said, turning her face away, “I did not care whom David seduced.”
There had been so many women. In the months following David’s death she had received visits from any number of them claiming to be her late husband’s mistress, including two former servants, three publicans’ daughters and one girl who worked in the milliner’s where Joanna had habitually bought her hats. She had wondered why David had seemed so keen to accompany her shopping when he had last returned to London. And considering that he was barely in the country most of the time, he had a most remarkable record of debauchery. That he had been able to conduct an affaire with Lottie and that she and Lottie were still friends was, Joanna thought bitterly, a reflection on the emptiness of her marriage and the shallowness of her friendships.
She caught Merryn watching her and gave her sister a reassuring smile. Merryn had lived so sheltered a life in the Oxfordshire countryside. Joanna had no wish to shock her sister.
“Anyway, we were speaking of delicious Lord Grant, not of your dead, dissolute husband,” Lottie said with her usual insensitivity. She seemed impervious to the atmosphere. “Does he kiss nicely, Jo darling? My advice would be to jilt him if he does not. It is appalling to be slobbered over by a man who does not understand how to kiss. Trust me, I should know.”
Merryn started to laugh and Joanna’s distress eased a little. At the very least, Lottie could always be relied upon to lighten the mood with some outrageous comment or exploit. Joanna spared a moment’s sympathy for the luckless Mr. Cummings, a banker rich beyond the dreams of avarice whose sole purpose in life appeared to be to fund Lottie’s lifestyle and be henpecked for his troubles.
“I am not going to talk about that,” she said. For a moment the frenetic buzz of the ballroom disappeared and she was back in her library, held in Alex Grant’s arms, and he was kissing her with explicit demand, and the warmth unfurled through her body and her toes curled within her evening slippers.
Lottie gave a little crow of pleasure. “Look at her face! He must kiss beautifully!”
“How gratifying to know that if I am to be jilted it will not be for my lack of expertise,” an amused male voice drawled from beside Joanna. “Your servant-in that as in everything-Lady Joanna.” His glance slid over the white satin evening gown. “How very charming and virginal you look tonight.”
Joanna jumped and spun around on her rout chair. Alex Grant was standing looking down at her, his dark eyes glittering. It was difficult to see how she could have missed his arrival, since an admiring throng of guests were pushing and jostling to claim his attention. The noise in the room was rising and there was a buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd like a breeze through corn. Joanna had seen it before with the eager crowds who had flocked to greet David as a conquering hero, had seen, too, the way in which David had lapped up that attention. Once again she felt a shiver of memory and the coldness seep into her bones.
Behind Alex was a very handsome young man, as fair as Alex was dark, who was watching her with a bright and inquisitive appraisal. Joanna smiled at him and he looked gratified and blushed rather endearingly. Joanna looked at Alex, who did not blush and looked even more sardonic. Joanna had the feeling that it would take a great deal to put him out of countenance.
“So, are we still lovers?” Alex asked softly as he bent over Joanna’s hand. His breath stirred the tendrils of curls about her ear, sending goose bumps skittering over her skin. She looked up into his eyes. He had eyelashes a woman would kill for, she thought, thick and dark. Nature could be very unfair. And he had eyes that she could see now were very dark gray rather than brown, but so smoky that they were unreadable.
She realized that she was staring-and that he was smiling, one eyebrow raised in quizzical challenge.
“As much as we ever were,” she said tartly. “Which is to say not at all.”
“A pity,” Alex said. “I have seldom had so little physical pleasure from an affair.”
“Well, if you would rather be in the Haymarket than Curzon Street, pray do not let us detain you,” Joanna snapped. Really, this man was beyond provocative.
Lottie gave an agonized squawk at the thought that her guest of honor might turn on his heel and leave. “No, indeed, Lord Grant will find my rout a great deal more fun than a bordello. I guarantee it!”
Joanna caught Merryn’s eye. Merryn giggled.
“May I introduce my cousin Mr. James Devlin,” Alex said, drawing forward the tall young man. “He is a great admirer of yours, Lady Joanna.”
Introductions were exchanged. James Devlin bowed to Joanna and then to Merryn. He looked suitably dazzled, though Joanna suspected he had practiced that look quite a bit on impressionable debutantes. Merryn, she was happy to see, remained composed and seemed unimpressed, though a tiny telltale blush suggested that her sister was not indifferent to Mr. Devlin’s admiration.