The lady turned and their eyes met across the span of the ballroom.
God’s blood.
“Lord Blade, I have been seeking an opportunity to speak to you about the housing project you are working on with Lord Westfall and my husband. I am keen to hear of the progress of its development and what precipitated the idea,” the Duchess of Wolverton murmured at his side.
Impatience bit through Tobias, and he strangled the useless emotion instantly. “Are you interested in contributing?”
“I am. I think it is wonderful you and Westfall have taken such a keen interest in championing the poor and suffering children of London. I understand the marquess has a vested interest, but what is your motivation?”
The duchess was daring to so boldly hint at Westfall’s bastard daughter, whom he had rescued recently. She completely distracted Tobias from his intention to pursue his mistress and demand an explanation.
“Shall we take a stroll on the terrace and discuss your charity work, Lord Blade? I’m sure Wolverton will join us,” the duchess said with a smile.
“It’s best if we retire to the library.”
With a nod, she acquiesced and they departed the ballroom. Tobias signaled to the duke, and he made his way toward them. Half an hour later, Tobias had secured the added patronage of the Duchess of Wolverton, and she assured him she would bring more support from other members of the ton as a fundraiser. Westfall would be pleased to know she was interested in building a school for the orphans, and she was bold enough to want them to receive a tailored education that would allow them to obtain respectable positions and advance their prospects.
Tobias reentered the ballroom and scanned the occupants. Though he searched for his mistress, his eyes found Olivia first. She was dancing a quadrille, and she was smiling. Satisfied she seemed contented for the moment, he did a quick search for Arabella. Through the crush he spied a flash of white blonde hair. He was wading through the crowd toward his mistress when a footman intercepted him and handed him a piece of paper. Tobias flicked it open.
My Darling Tobias. I am sick to heart at the displeasure I saw on your face earlier. I had to come, to see you. I’ve missed your lips, your touch, and your pleasures. I secured an invitation through my good friend, and I have been most discreet. Do you remember our scintillating adventures at Lady Beechman’s house party? I would have you in a similar manner tonight. I will either be in your bed, the linen closet on the second floor of the west wing, or the gazebo. Please let me make it up to you. I am your willing prey…hunt me, my darling, and claim your reward.
Your lady A
The footman who had delivered it stared straight ahead.
The anger snapping through his veins was unnerving in its intensity. Tobias had no mood for one of Arabella’s sexual escapades tonight. Damn her stubborn hide. What game was she now playing? To think she would flagrantly disregard his position on the matter. The fact that his mother was not wailing and demanding an explanation from him meant she must not yet be aware his mistress was currently under the same roof as her.
Knowing Arabella, she would truly remain hidden until he came or a servant discovered her and some nonsensical commotion would ensue. He should grab hold of her and throw her out on her damn backside. He had no time for deceptive and manipulative games. He would end their liaison. Tonight.
Chapter Eight
Livvie slipped up the stairs, relieved to escape the crush of the ball and even more excited to return to her book. Though it was after one in the morning, she would read at least a chapter or two before retiring for the night. With a soft sigh, she reached the landing and paused as she swore she saw Tobias strolling down the hallway. Her heart leaped. His chamber was on the other side of the manor. What was he doing in the west wing? Should she engage him in conversation?
Dancing with him had been so thrilling. Disappointment had pierced her when the waltz had ended and he had drifted away in the crowd. Stupidly, she’d wanted to remain in his arms and enjoy at least another dance. Several times, his mouth had curved into a smile that made her want to lean in and lick his lips. No doubt if she acted on the desire in private it would confirm all the unladylike ideas he had about her.
Livvie hurried along the corridor to catch up to him, and slowed her steps when she saw him pause at the door of a linen closet. Instinctively, she flushed herself against the wall and stepped into a pocket of shadows. She frowned when he looked left, then right, before opening the door and slipping inside. What was he doing? Livvie was intrigued.
Maybe she had been mistaken that it was Tobias. She hurried to the door and lifted a hand to knock. She bit her lip, feeling silly. So what if the earl wanted to hide himself away in a linen closet? It was his house. What was worse was the desire she had to enquire if he was well…or if he wanted company. Not to be in the closet but company to talk. Making a decisive decision, she knocked once on the door. “Tobias?”
Then she held her breath.
There was no answer. Feeling ridiculous, she turned to leave. The door was wrenched open and an arm circled her waist and pulled her into the darkened room. Before she could squeak, a hand clamped over her lips.
“What are you doing here and why would you send me such a note?” It was the rough annoyed voice of the earl that prevented Livvie from turning and raising her knees to his man parts. It was truly Tobias. In a linen closet? No doubt he had intended an assignation. A shocking thing for sure. He was so coldly arrogant and proper she had not expected that. She bit down hard against his palm and felt gratified to hear his pained curse. His hand lifted from her mouth.
“Why did you draw me in here…and who did you think I was?” she snapped, painfully aware of how close they stood, of his heat against her body. It took all of her willpower to not melt into his firm body.
“Lady Olivia?” The shock in his voice was profound.
“Yes,” she answered a bit smugly, pleased to have rattled his constitution, albeit unintentionally.
Her pleasure was swiftly stifled under the virulent curses that sprang from his lips. Her cheeks burned and unwanted tears pricked behind her lids. She knew he did not like her, but not that much.
“Let’s go,” he muttered roughly and opened the door.
He stepped into the hallway, dragging her behind him, and then froze. Loud voices carried from the corridor, and with another harsh curse he pushed her back in the closet and closed the door.
“Release me,” she muttered, thoroughly vexed with his reaction. He had planned to meet someone else in the closet. So it wasn’t the situation he was averse to…but her! The swift pain that pinched her heart, angered her even more. She made to leave, but strong arms gripped her hips, effectively halting her.
“What are you doing?” he growled.
“I am leaving. I certainly do not wish to pain you further with my unwanted presence. Not that I invited myself to this…this…tryst!”
He stiffened, and Livvie wished she were able to make out his features. She could only smell his warm masculine fragrance, feel his vitality, and she resented the curious hunger it roused.
“I did not plan a tryst,” he said stiffly.
As if she would believe such an assertion. “Then why are you skulking inside the closet?”
“In the event it had escaped your notice, I am in my home.”