He turned his head, regarding her with fascinated amus.e.m.e.nt. "What do you think?"

"I think there are. In fact, I think it's rather arrogant to a.s.sume that out of all those thousands of stars and planets up there, we are the only ones who exist. It seems as arrogant as the old belief that the earth is the center of the entire universe and everything revolves around us. Although people didn't exactly thank Galileo for disproving it, did they? Imagine being hauled before the Inquisition and forced to renounce what you absolutely knew-and could prove was right!"

"When did debutantes start studying astronomy?" he asked as Elizabeth stepped over to the bench to retrieve her winegla.s.s.

"I've had years and years to read," she admitted ingenuously. Unaware of the searching intensity of his gaze, she picked up her winegla.s.s and turned back to him. "I really must go inside now and change for the evening."

He nodded in silence, and Elizabeth started to walk forward and step past him. Then she changed her mind and hesitated, remembering her friends' wagers and how much they were counting on her. "I have a rather odd request a favor to ask of you," she said slowly, praying that he felt, as she did, that they'd enjoyed a very brief and very pleasant sort of friendship out there. Smiling uncertainly into his inscrutable eyes, she said, "Could you possibly for reasons I can't explain. . ." she trailed off, suddenly and acutely embarra.s.sed.

"What is the favor?"

Elizabeth expelled her breath in a rush. "Could you possibly ask me to dance this evening?" He looked neither shocked nor tattered by her bold request and she watched his firmly molded lips form his answer.

"No."

Elizabeth was mortified and shocked by his refusal, but she was even more stunned by the unmistakable regret she'd heard in his voice and glimpsed on his face. For a long moment she searched his shuttered features, and then the sound of laughing voices from somewhere nearby broke the spell. Trying to retreat from a predicament into which she should never have put herself in the first place, Elizabeth picked up her skirts, intending to leave. Making a conscious effort to keep all emotion from her voice, she said with calm dignity, "Good evening, Mr. Thornton."

He flipped the cheroot away and nodded. "Good evening, Miss Cameron." And then he left.

The rest of her friends had gone upstairs to change their gowns for the evening's dancing, but the moment Elizabeth entered the rooms set aside for them the conversation and laughter stopped abruptly leaving Elizabeth with a fleeting, uneasy feeling that they had been laughing and talking about her.

"Well?" Penelope asked with an expectant laugh. "Don't keep us in suspense. Did you make an impression?"

The uneasy sensation of being the brunt of some secret joke left Elizabeth as she looked about at their smiling, open faces. Only Valerie looked a little cool and aloof.

"I made an impression, to be sure," Elizabeth said with an embarra.s.sed smile, "but 'twas not a particularly favorable one."

"He remained by your side for ever so long," another girl prodded her. "We were watching from the far end of the garden. What did you talk about?"

Elizabeth felt a warmth creep through her veins and steal up her cheeks as she remembered his handsome, tanned face and the way his smile had glinted and softened his features as he looked at her. "I don't actually remember what we spoke of." That much was true. All she could remember was the odd way her knees had shaken and her heart had beaten when he looked at her.

"Well, what was he like?"

"Handsome," Elizabeth said a little dreamily before she could catch herself. "Charming. He has a beautiful voice."

"And, no doubt," Valerie said with a thread of sarcasm, "he's even now trying to discover your brother's whereabouts so that he can dash over there and apply for your hand."

That notion was so absurd that Elizabeth would have burst out laughing if she weren't so embarra.s.sed and oddly let down by the way he'd left her in the garden. "My brother's evening is safe from any interruption in that quarter, I can promise you. In fact," she added with a rueful smile, "I fear you've all lost your quarterly allowances as well, for there isn't the slightest chance he'll ask me to dance." With an apologetic wave she left to change her gown for the ball that was already underway on the third floor.

Once Elizabeth had gained the privacy of her bedchamber, however, the breezy smile she'd worn in front of the other girls faded to an expression of thoughtful bewilderment. Wandering over to the bed, she sat down, idly tracing the golden threads of the rose brocade coverlet with the tip of her finger, trying to understand the feelings she'd experienced in the presence of Ian Thornton.

Standing with him in the garden, she'd felt frightened and exhilarated at the same time-drawn to him against her very will by a compelling magnetism that he seemed to radiate. Out there she'd felt almost driven to win his approval, alarmed when she'd failed, joyous when she'd succeeded. Even now, just the memory of the way he smiled, of the intimacy of his heavy-lidded gaze, made her feel hot and cold all over.

Music drifted from the ballroom on another floor, and Elizabeth finally shook herself from her reverie and rang for Berta to help her dress.

"What do you think?" she asked Berta a half hour later as she pirouetted before the mirror for the inspection of her nursemaid-turned-lady's maid.

Berta twisted her plump hands as she stood back, nervously surveying her glowing young mistress's more sophisticated appearance, unable to suppress her affectionate smile. Elizabeth's hair had been caught up into an elegant chignon at the crown with soft tendrils framing her face, and her mother's sapphire and diamond eardrops sparkled at her ears.

Unlike Elizabeth's other gowns, which were nearly all pastel and high-waisted, this one was a sapphire blue, by far the most unusual and alluring of them all. Panels of blue silk drifted from a flattened bow upon her left shoulder and fell straight to the floor, leaving her other shoulder bare. Despite the fact that the gown was little more than a straight tube of silk, it flattered her figure, emphasizing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hinting at the narrow waist beneath. "I think," Berta said finally, "it's a wonder Mrs. Porter ordered such a gown for you. It's not a bit like your others."

Elizabeth tossed her a jaunty, conspiratorial smile as she pulled on the sapphire gloves that encased her arms to above the elbows. "It's the only one Mrs. Porter didn't choose," she admitted. "And Lucinda hasn't seen it either."

"I don't doubt it."

Elizabeth turned back to the mirror, frowning as she surveyed her appearance. "The other girls are barely seventeen, but I'll be eighteen in a few months. Besides," she explained, picking up her mother's sapphire and diamond bracelet and fastening it over the glove on her left wrist, ''as I tried to tell Mrs. Porter, it's a great waste to spend so much for gowns that won't be at all suitable for me next year or the year after. I'll be able to wear this one even when I'm twenty."

Berta rolled her eyes and shook her head, setting the streamers on her cap bobbing. "I doubt your Viscount Mondevale will want you wearin' the same gown more'n twice, let alone until you wear it out," she said as she bent over to straighten the hem on the blue gown.

Chapter 5.

Berta's reminder that she was virtually betrothed had a distinctly sobering effect on Elizabeth, and the mood stayed with her as she walked toward the flight of steps leading down to the ballroom. The prospect of confronting Mr. Ian Thornton no longer made her pulse race, and she refused to regret his refusal to dance with her, or even to think of him. With natural grace she started down to the ballroom, where couples were dancing. but most seemed to be cl.u.s.tered about in groups, talking and laughing.

A few steps from the bottom she paused momentarily to scan the guests, wondering where her friends had gathered. She saw them only a few yards away, and when Penelope lifted her hand in a beckoning wave Elizabeth nodded and smiled.

The smile still on her lips, she started to look away, then froze as her gaze locked with a pair of startled amber eyes. Standing with a group of men near the foot of the staircase, Ian Thornton was staring at her, his winegla.s.s arrested halfway to his lips. His bold gaze swept from the top of her shining blond hair, over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips, right down to her blue satin slippers, then it lifted abruptly to her face, and there was a smile of frank admiration gleaming in his eyes. As if to confirm it, he c.o.c.ked an eyebrow very slightly and lifted his gla.s.s in the merest subtle gesture of a toast before he drank his wine.

Somehow Elizabeth managed to keep her expression serene as she continued gracefully down the stairs, but her treacherous pulse was racing double-time, and her mind was in complete confusion. Had any other man looked at her or behaved to her the way Ian Thornton just had, she would have been indignant, amused, or both. Instead the smile in his eyes the mocking little toast had made her feel as if they were sharing some private, intimate conversation, and she had returned his smile.

Lord Howard, who was Viscount Mondevale's cousin, was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. An urbane man with pleasing manners, he had never been one of her beaux, but he had become something of a friend, and he'd always done his utmost to further Viscount Mondevale's suit with her. Beside him was Lord Everly, one of Elizabeth's most determined suitors, a rash, handsome young man who, like Elizabeth, had inherited his t.i.tle and lands as a youth. Unlike Elizabeth, he'd inherited a fortune along with them. "I say!" Lord Everly burst out, offering Elizabeth his arm. "We heard you were here. You're looking ravishing tonight."

"Ravishing." echoed Lord Howard. With a meaningful grin at Thomas Everly's outstretched arm he said, "Everly, one usually asks a lady for the honor of escorting her forward-he does not thrust his arm in her way." Turning to Elizabeth, he bowed, said, "May I?" and offered his arm.

Elizabeth chuckled, and now that she was betrothed she permitted herself to break a tiny rule of decorum. "Certainly, my lords," she replied, and she placed a gloved hand on each of their arms. "I hope you appreciate the lengths to which I'm going to prevent the two of you from coming to fisticuffs," she teased as they led her forward. "I look like an elderly lady, too weak to walk without someone on each side to hold her upright!"

The two gentlemen laughed, and so did Elizabeth-and that was the scene Ian Thornton witnessed as the trio strolled by the group he was with. Elizabeth managed to stop herself from so much as glancing his way until they were nearly past him, but then someone called out to Lord Howard, and he stopped momentarily to reply. Yielding to temptation, Elizabeth stole a split-second glance at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the midst of the group. His dark head was bent, and he appeared to be absorbed in listening to a laughing commentary from the only woman among them. If he was aware Elizabeth was standing there, he gave not the slightest indication of it.

"I must say," Lord Howard told her a moment later as he escorted her forward again, "I was a bit surprised to hear you were here."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked, adamantly vowing not to think of Ian Thornton again. She was becoming quite obsessed with a man who was a complete stranger, and moreover, she was very nearly an engaged woman!

"Because Charise Dumont runs with a bit of a fast set," he explained.

Startled, Elizabeth turned her full attention on the attractive blond man. "But Miss Throckmorton-Jones-my companion-has never raised the slightest objection in London to my visiting any member of the family. Besides, Charise's mama was a friend of my own mama's."

Lord Howard's smile was both concerned and rea.s.suring. "In London," he emphasized, "Charise is a model hostess. In the country, however, her soirees tend to be, shall we say, somewhat less structured and restricted." He paused to stop a servant who was carrying a silver tray with gla.s.ses of champagne, then he handed one of the gla.s.ses to Elizabeth before continuing: "I never meant to imply your reputation would be ruined for being here. After all," he teased, "Everly and I are here, which indicates that at least a few of us are among the first stare of society."

"Unlike some of her other guests," Lord Everly put in contemptuously, tipping his head toward Ian Thornton, "who wouldn't be admitted to a respectable drawing room in all of London!"

Consumed with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from asking, "Are you referring to Mr. Thornton?"

"None other."

She took a sip of her champagne, using that as an excuse to study the tall, tanned man who'd occupied too many of her thoughts since the moment she'd first spoken to him. To Elizabeth he looked every inch the elegant, understated gentleman: His dark claret jacket and trousers setoff his broad shoulders and emphasized his long, muscular legs with a perfection that bespoke the finest London tailoring; his snowy white neckcloth was tied to perfection, and his dark hair was perfectly groomed. Even in his relaxed pose his tall body gave off the muscular power of a discus thrower, while his tanned features were stamped with the cool arrogance of n.o.bility. "Is-is he as bad as that?" she asked, tearing her gaze from his chiseled profile.

She was caught up in her private impressions of his elegance, so it took a moment for Lord Everly's scathing answer to register on Elizabeth's brain: "He's worse! The man's a common gambler, a pirate, a blackguard, and worse!"

"I-I can't believe all that," Elizabeth said, too stunned and disappointed to keep silent.

Lord Howard shot a quelling glance at Everly. then smiled rea.s.suringly at a stricken Elizabeth, misunderstanding the cause of her dismay. "Don't pay any heed to Lord Everly, my lady. He's merely put out because Thornton relieved him of 10,000 two weeks ago in a polite gaming hall. Cease, Thorn!" he added when the irate earl started to protest. "You'll have Lady Elizabeth afraid to sleep in her bed tonight."

Her mind still on Ian Thornton, Elizabeth only half heard what her girlfriends were talking about when her two escorts led her to them. "I don't know what men see in her," Georgina was saying. "She's no prettier than any of us."

"Have you ever noticed," Penelope put in philosophically, "what sheep men are? Where one goes they all follow."

"I just wish she'd choose one to wed and leave the rest to us," said Georgina.

"I think she's attracted to him."

"She's wasting her time in that quarter," Valerie sneered, giving her rose gown an angry twitch. "As I told you earlier, Charise a.s.sured me he has no interest in innocent young things. Still," she said with an exasperated sigh, "it would be delightful if she did develop a tendre for him. A dance or two together, a few longing looks, and we'd be rid of her completely as soon as the gossip reached her adoring beaux good heavens, Elizabeth!" she exclaimed, finally noticing Elizabeth, who was standing beside and slightly behind her. "We thought you were dancing with Lord Howard."

" An excellent idea," Lord Howard seconded. "I'd claimed the next dance, Lady Cameron, but if you have no objection to this one instead?"

"Before you usurp her completely," Lord Everly cut in with a dark look at Lord Howard, whom he mistakenly deemed his rival for Elizabeth's hand. Turning to Elizabeth, he continued, "There's to be an all-day jaunt to the village tomorrow, leaving in the morning. Would you do me the honor of permitting me to be your escort?"

Uneasy around the sort of vicious gossip in which the girls had been indulging, Elizabeth gratefully accepted Lord Everly's offer and then agreed to Lord Howard's invitation to dance. On the dance floor he smiled down at her and said. "I understand we're to become cousins." Seeing her surprised reaction to his premature remark, he explained. "Mondevale confided in me that you're about to make him the happiest of men-a.s.suming your brother doesn't decide there's a nonexistent skeleton in his closet."

Since Robert had specifically said he wished Viscount Mondevale to be kept waiting, Elizabeth said the only thing she could say: "The decision is in my brother's hands."

"Which is where it should be," he said approvingly.

An hour later Elizabeth realized that Lord Howard's almost continual presence at her side indicated that he'd evidently appointed himself her guardian at this gathering, which he deemed to be of questionable suitability for the young and innocent. She also realized, as he left to get her a gla.s.s of punch, that the male population of the ballroom, as well as some of the female, was dwindling by the moment as guests disappeared into the adjoining card room. Normally the card room was an exclusively male province at b.a.l.l.s a place provided by hostesses for those men (usually married or of advancing years) who were forced to attend a ball, but who adamantly refused to spend an entire evening engaged in frivolous social discourse. Ian Thornton, she knew, had gone in there early in the evening and remained, and now even her girlfriends were looking longingly in that direction. "Is something special happening in the card room?" she asked Lord Howard when he returned with her punch and began guiding her over to her friends.

He nodded with a sardonic smile. "Thornton is losing heavily and has been most of the night very unusual for him."

Penelope and the others heard his comment with avidly curious, even eager expressions. "Lord Tilbury told us that he thinks everything Mr. Thornton owns is lying on the table, either in chips or promissory notes," she said.

Elizabeth's stomach gave a sickening lurch. "He he's wagering everything?" she asked her self-appointed protector. "On a turn of the cards? Why would he do such a thing?"

"For the thrill, I imagine. Gamblers often do just that." Elizabeth could not imagine why her father, her brother, or other men seemed to enjoy risking large sums of money on anything as meaningless as a game of chance, but she had no opportunity to comment because Penelope was gesturing to Georgina, Valerie, and even Elizabeth and saying with a pretty smile, "We would all very much like to go and watch, Lord Howard, and if you would accompany us, there's no reason why we shouldn't. It's so very exciting, and half the people here are already in there."

Lord Howard wasn't immune to the three pretty faces watching him with such hope, but he hesitated anyway, glancing uncertainly at Elizabeth as his guardianship came into conflict with his personal desire to see the proceedings firsthand.

"It's not the least inappropriate," Valerie urged, "since there are other ladies in there."

"Very well," he acceded with a helpless grin. With Elizabeth on his arm he escorted the bevy of girls forward through the open doorway and into the hallowed male confines of the card room.

Suppressing the urge to cry out that she did not want to watch Ian Thornton be beggared, Elizabeth forced herself to keep her expression blank as she looked around at the groups of people cl.u.s.tered about the largest of the oaken tables, obscuring the view of the players seated around it. Dark paneling on the walls and burgundy carpet on the floor made the room seem very dim in comparison to the ballroom. A pair of beautifully carved billiard tables with large chandeliers hanging above them occupied the front of the large room, and eight other tables were scattered about. Although those tables were unoccupied for the moment, cards had been left on them, carefully turned face down, and piles of chips remained in the center of each.

Elizabeth a.s.sumed the players at those tables had left their own card games and were now part of the spectators cl.u.s.tered around the large table where all the excitement was being generated. Just as she thought it, one of the spectators at the big table announced it was time to return to their own game, and four men backed away. Lord Howard neatly guided his ladies into the spot the men had just vacated, and Elizabeth found herself in the last place she wanted to be-standing almost at Ian Thornton's elbow with a perfect, un.o.bscured view of what was purportedly the scene of his financial ma.s.sacre.

Four other men were seated at the round table along with him, including Lord Everly, whose young face was flushed with triumph. Besides being the youngest man there, Lord Everly was the only one whose expression and posture clearly betrayed his emotions. In complete contrast to Lord Everly, Ian Thornton was lounging indifferently in his chair, his expression bland. his long legs stretched out beneath the table, his claret jacket open at the front. The other three men appeared to be concentrating on the cards in their hands, their expressions unreadable.

The Duke of Hammund, who was seated across from where Elizabeth stood, broke the silence: "I think you're bluffing, Thorn," he said with a brief smile. "Moreover, you've been on a losing streak all night. I'll raise you 500," he added, sliding five chips forward Two things. .h.i.t Elizabeth at once: Evidently Ian's nickname was Thorn, and His Grace, the Duke of Hammund, a premier duke of the realm, had addressed him as if they were on friendly terms. The other men, however, continued to regard Ian coolly as they in turn plucked five chips from their individual stacks and pushed them into the pile that had already acc.u.mulated in the center of the table.

When it was Ian's turn Elizabeth noticed with a surge of alarm that he had no stack of chips at all, but only five lonely white ones. Her heart sank as she watched him pluck all five chips up and flip them onto the pile in the center. Unknowingly, she held her breath, wondering a little wildly why any sane human being would wager everything he had on anything as stupid as a game of chance.

The last wager had been placed, and the Duke of Hammund showed his cards a pair of aces. The other two men apparently had less than that, because they withdrew. "I've got you beaten!" Lord Everly said to the duke with a triumphant grin, and he turned over three kings. Reaching forward, he started to pull the pile of chips toward him, but Ian's lazy drawl stopped him short: "I believe that's mine," he said, and he turned over his own cards three nines and a pair of fours.

Without realizing it, Elizabeth expelled a l.u.s.ty sigh of relief, and Ian's gaze abruptly snapped to her face, registering not only her presence for the first time, but her worried green eyes and wan smile as well. A brief impersonal smile touched the corner of his mouth before he glanced at the other men and said lightly, "Perhaps the presence of such lovely ladies has changed my luck at last."

He had said "ladies," but Elizabeth felt. . . she knew. . . his words had been meant for her.

Unfortunately, his prediction about his luck changing was wrong. For the next half hour Elizabeth stood stock still, watching with a sinking heart and unbearable tension as he lost most of the money he'd won when she first came to stand at the table. And during all that time he continued to lounge in his chair, his expression never betraying a single emotion. Elizabeth, however, could no longer endure watching him lose, and she waited for the last hand to end so that she could leave without disturbing the players. As soon as it was over the Duke of Hammund announced, "I think some; refreshment would stand us in good stead." He nodded to a nearby servant, who promptly came to collect the empty gla.s.ses from the gentlemen's elbows and replace them with filled ones, and Elizabeth turned quickly to Lord Howard. "Excuse me," she said in a tense, quiet voice, picking up her skirts to leave. Ian had not so much as glanced at her since he'd joked about his luck changing, and she'd a.s.sumed he'd forgotten her presence, but at her words he lifted his head and looked straight at her. "Afraid to stay to the bitter end?" he asked lightly, and three of the men at the table, who'd already won most of his money, laughed heartily but without warmth.

Elizabeth hesitated, thinking she must be going quite mad, because she honestly sensed that he wanted her to stay. Uncertain whether she was merely imagining his feelings, she smiled bravely at him. "I was merely going for some wine, sir," she prevaricated. "I have every faith you'll", she groped for the right term "you'll come about!" she declared, recalling Robert's occasional gambling cant. A servant heard her and rushed forward to hand her a gla.s.s of wine, and Elizabeth remained standing at Ian Thornton's elbow.

Their hostess swept into the card room at that moment, and bent a reproving look on all the occupants of the card table. Then she turned to Ian, smiling gorgeously at him despite the severity of her words. "Now really, Thorn, this has gone on too long. Do finish your play and rejoin us in the ballroom." As if it took an effort, she dragged her gaze from him and looked at the other men around the table. "Gentlemen," she warned laughingly, "I shall cut off your supply of cigars and brandy in twenty minutes." Several of the spectators followed her out, either from guilt at having neglected their roles as courteous guests or from boredom at watching Ian lose everything.

"I've had enough cards for one night," the Duke of Hammund announced.

"So have I," another echoed.

"One more game," Lord Everly insisted. "Thornton still has some of my money, and I aim to win it back on the next hand."

The men at the table exchanged resigned glances, then the duke nodded agreement. "All right, Everly, one more game and then we return to the ballroom."

"No limit on the stakes, since it's the last game?" asked Lord Everly eagerly. All the men nodded as if a.s.sent were natural, and Ian dealt the first round of cards to each player.

The opening bet was 1,000. During the next five minutes the amount represented by the pile of chips in the center escalated to 25,000. One by one the remaining players dropped out until only Lord Everly and Ian were left, and only one card remained to be dealt after the wagers were placed, Silence stretched taut in the room, and Elizabeth nervously clasped and unclasped her hands as Lord Everly picked up his fourth card.

He looked at it, then at Ian, and Elizabeth saw the triumph gleaming in the young man's eyes. Her heart sank to her stomach as he said, "Thornton, this card will cost you 10,000 if you want to stay in the game long enough to see it."

Elizabeth felt a strong urge to throttle the wealthy young lord and an equally strong urge to kick Ian Thornton in his shin, which was within reach of her toe beneath the table, when he took the bet and raised it by 5,000!

She could not believe Ian's lack of perception; even she could tell from Everly's face that he had an unbeatable hand! Unable to endure it another moment, she glanced at the spectators gathered around the table who were watching Everly to see if he took the bet, then she picked up her skirts to leave, Her slight movement seemed to pull Ian's attention from his opponent, and for the third time that night be looked up at her-and for the second time his gaze checked her. As Elizabeth looked at him in taut misery, he very slightly, almost imperceptibly turned his cards so she could see them.

He was holding four tens. Relief soared through her, followed instantly by terror that her face would betray her emotions. Turning swiftly, she almost knocked poor Lord Howard over in her haste to leave the immediate area of the table. "I need a moment of air," she told him, and he was so engrossed in waiting to see if Everly would match Ian's bet that he nodded and let her move away without protest. Elizabeth realized that in showing her his hand to relieve her fear, Ian had taken the risk that she would do or say something foolish that would give him away, and she couldn't think why he would have done that for her. Except that, as she'd stood beside him, she'd known somehow that he was as aware of her presence as she was of his, and that he rather liked having her stand at his side.

Now that she'd made good her escape, however, Elizabeth couldn't decide how to cover her hasty retreat and still remain in the card room, so she wandered over to a painting depicting a hunting scene and studied it with feigned fascination.

"It's your bet, Everly," she heard Ian prod.

Lord Everly's answer made Elizabeth tremble: "twenty-five thousand pounds," he drawled.

"Don't be a fool!" the duke told him. "That's too much to wager on one hand, even for you."

Certain now that she had her facial expression under control, Elizabeth wandered back to the table.

"I can afford it," Everly reminded them all smoothly. "What concerns me, Thornton, is whether or not you can cover your bet when you lose."

Elizabeth flinched as if the insult had been hurled at her, but Ian merely leaned back in his chair and regarded Everly in steady, glacial silence. After a long, tense moment he said in a dangerously soft voice, "I can afford to raise you another 10,000."