Whisper of Scandal. Nicola Cornick
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mistress but she had practically told Lottie to seduce him anyway.
The eager press of guests in Lottie’s reception rooms fell back a little to allow them through the archway into the ballroom. All about her, Joanna was aware of the feverish whisper and hiss of conversation, the sycophantic smiles of the ladies as they fluttered to attract Alex’s attention, the hearty greetings of the men, the whole of society angling for his attention and notice.
“I say, ma’am,” Devlin said, walking beside her, “is this not extraordinary? Who would have thought that Alex, of all people, would be so in demand! It is like escorting royalty!”
“I think Lord Grant is probably more popular than the Prince Regent,” Joanna said dryly. “Society is very fickle, Mr. Devlin, and very bored. We are always looking for the next sensation and at the moment that is your cousin. Explorers are all the rage. No doubt this time next year the fashion will be for Chinese wallpaper or Scottish breeds of dog.”
“Alex is hardly comparable to a dog, ma’am,” Dev protested, though with a smile. “And he is the quarry of all the matchmaking mamas, of course.”
“Is he?” Joanna felt a strange dropping feeling in her stomach. “I had no notion that Lord Grant was seeking a bride.”
“Oh, I do not think he wants a wife,” Dev said candidly, “but Balvenie currently has no heir.”
“I see. Of course.” Joanna felt the cold gnawing inside her. David, too, had wanted a son. “Yes,” she said. “Most men want an heir.”
Even though she sought to keep her tone level there must have been some note in it that caught Dev’s attention for he gave her a quick, puzzled look. She smiled at him blandly and saw his brow clear. Oh, it was so easy to pretend …
It had taken them so long to fight their way through the crowds that the cotillion was already over and the orchestra, seeing them approach, swung into a lively rendition of Thomas Arne’s march from Britannia in Alex’s honor. Glancing at him, Joanna saw that his face was absolutely impassive. Lottie was clinging to his arm and beaming with reflected glory and the entire ballroom broke into spontaneous applause.
“It would be more appropriate,” Joanna whispered to Dev, “to have played Mr. Arne’s ‘Much Ado about Nothing.’”
Alex gave her an unreadable look and Joanna realized that he had heard her. Dev was looking from one to the other with a puzzled expression on his handsome face.
“I say, you really do not like one another very much, do you, Lady Joanna? When Alex told me that you were not really … um … intimate I thought that he was merely … um—” He broke off in confusion, sounding all at once a great deal less sophisticated than his appearance suggested.
“I fear I am prejudiced against explorers, Mr. Devlin,” Joanna said, taking pity on him, “having been married to one.”
“Oh, but surely David was the most admirable of men,” Dev said, his face lighting up. “He was a hero of mine when I was only a small boy.”
“I fear,” Joanna said, “that heroes can be uncomfortable men to live with.” She saw his look of blank astonishment and added bitterly, “It can be so hard to live up to the expectation.”
The triumphal march finished on a flourish, the applause rang out again and Alex bowed acknowledgment to the crowd before Lottie positively dragged him into the next set that was forming for a country-dance.
“I hope that Alex will forgive me cutting him out,” Dev said as he and Joanna moved through the opening figures. “I was surprised he asked you to dance, ma’am. A combination of an old wound and lack of inclination usually keeps him from the floor.”
Joanna had been surprised as well. Whilst Alex’s injured leg did not seem to hinder him unduly, she could not imagine that a half-hour country-dance would be comfortable for him. She had observed from the grim set of his mouth when Lottie had questioned him on his polar bear injuries that this was another issue he did not discuss. Like the subject of his popularity as an explorer and the death of his wife, it was not up for debate, and there was something most stern and quelling about Alex Grant when he decided a topic was not open for discussion. Joanna doubted that many people gainsaid him. He was too authoritative and too intimidating.
“Alex only accepted Mrs. Cummings’s invitation tonight as a favor to me,” Dev was saying. “He is nowhere near as unhelpful as he can seem, you know, ma’am.”
“I will take your word for it, Mr. Devlin,” Joanna said, smiling. “And as I am sure that your cousin is indifferent to whom I dance with, so you are in no imminent danger of his calling you out.”
“Well, I hope not,” Dev said. “He did warn me off you earlier, though.” He gave her a look of frank admiration. “Can’t say I blame him, ma’am.”
“Your cousin is presumptuous,” Joanna snapped. She shot a furious look at Alex across the floor. Since it seemed extremely unlikely that David had made Alex promise to protect her in some touching deathbed scene-she was sure that the reverse must be true-she could only assume that Alex had warned his young cousin away because he thought her dangerous to Devlin’s virtue. For a moment she watched Alex dancing with Lottie. Mrs. Cummings was turning a respectable country-dance into something a great deal more tactile. She was all over Alex like ivy, Joanna thought, feeling for those polar bear scars herself. As she saw Alex pry Lottie’s fingers away from his shirtfront, she decided Lottie’s persistent attentions were the least penance that he deserved.
“In your note to me this afternoon you mentioned a favor, Mr. Devlin,” she said, turning back to Dev. “How can I help you? Though if it is anything to do with your cousin, I should warn you that I have absolutely no influence with him at all.”
“Know what you mean, ma’am,” Dev said gloomily. “Alex knows his own mind too well to welcome other counsel.”
“You mean that he is arrogant,” Joanna said.
Dev winced. “Well, that could be one word for it, I suppose. Truth is, I am in bad odor with him at the moment for abandoning my navy commission to take part in an expedition to Mexico.” He looked at her appealingly. “I wondered if you might speak with him, ma’am, and smooth matters over for me?”
“I could try,” Joanna said, “but it would only make things worse for you, Mr. Devlin. I am afraid that when it comes to incurring your cousin’s disapproval, I am streets ahead of you.”
The figure of the dance took them past the corner where Merryn was sitting chatting to Miss Drayton. Joanna saw that Devlin was watching her sister.
“Lady Merryn does not dance?” he said when they came back together again.
“My sister prefers more intellectual pursuits,” Joanna said, smiling. Merryn was a bluestocking who was unconventional enough to make no secret of her preference for intelligent debate over dancing. It did, however, limit her circle of friends and many people in the ton, Lottie included, thought her a complete original because of her lack of interest in frivolity.
She realized that Dev was watching her with a surprisingly perceptive gaze. “A pity,” he said. “Because I am sure she would be a graceful dancer. But I admire a woman who is different.”
“If you can discuss naval architecture with her then you will win her approval,” Joanna said lightly. The music drew to a close and she and Dev joined in the smattering of applause from the dancers. “She has been attending the lectures at the Royal Institution with some of her friends.”
“Indeed?” Dev said. There was a frown between his brows. “I attended the talk last week, the one about a new design for the American frigates. I must have seen Lady Merryn at the meeting although—” he hesitated “—I thought that I had glimpsed her in quite a different place.”
“Then it seems you have an interest in common,” Joanna said, smiling. She put a hand on Dev’s arm. “A word of advice, though,