The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(260)

"Was he all right?" Blake could not help but ask, worry evident in his tone.



She gave him a happy smile. "Fine. Not a word or hand out of place. There is something, well, something ineffably sad about him. Like you in some respects."



"Like me?" he exclaimed, his brows knitting.



She coloured. "I'm sorry. I spoke unguardedly. I didn't mean to-"



"Yes, but now that you have, you should explain yourself," he demanded in a curt tone.



She shrugged. "There's nothing to explain. It's just an impression I got when we first met. Like you're very much alone and burdened. That's all I meant."



He gave what he hoped looked like a casual smile, though inwardly he was in utter turmoil. Tell her, just tell her everything...



"This is much too serious a conversation to have at a ball. In any case you're mistaken. I'm perfectly content with my life, thank you very much, and having a splendid time at the ball. So if you will excuse me, I shall hand you over to your next partner, and go dance with one of my old friends."



As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Arabella looked unmistakably hurt, and her next partner was quite obviously all sheets to the wind. Even worse was that he had to now stand up with the willing widow Leonore Ross, who had seen him look at her, and had immediately moved in for the kill.



She gripped his hand and shoulder with a possessive air and stood far too close to him even given it was a waltz and the floor was crowded.



"Well, Blake, wherever did you pick up such a pretty little toy? I daresay she has quite turned your head. Made you almost domesticated. No one has seen you about for weeks."



"I've been way in Bath," he answered curtly. "And the toy, as you call her, is my ward, Miss Neville. I will thank you to remember that, and will take great pains in future to ensure that I do not behave in an inappropriate manner in front of her or my friends."



He stepped back several times and tried to keep her at arm's length.



"Oh, don't be silly. This is the perfect opportunity for us. I can chaperone her around and we can see more of each other than ever."



"I've already seen more than enough," he said angrily as she blatantly tugged down the bosom of her gown. "So I shall have to tell you straight out. Forget you and I were ever lovers. I have a new life now, and will never ever visit you again."



Her eyes narrowed to vicious slits. She was about to tell Blake what she thought of him and his so-called ward in no uncertain terms when Philip Marshall stepped in smoothly.



"May I? Delighted." He took the widow's hand before Blake could say a word.



The doctor stared at him for a moment, but Philip's eyes swiveled to the right as he looked at Blake, sending him a clear message: get out while you can, and go help Arabella.



The warning came in the nick of time. Her drunken dance partner was practically diving into the relatively modest bodice of Arabella's gown by the time Blake saw the danger and stepped over to them.



He grabbed the oaf by the collar none too gently and said, "I say, Roger, a bit too much of the sauce, eh? Come have some coffee."



"Don't mind if it do, if the, er, lady will come with us." He gave a short braying laugh and leered at her.



"My ward, Arabella."



His eyes sparkled lasciviously. "Ward? Is that what you call it nowadays. Hah!" He said loudly. His suggestive tone left neither of them in any doubt as to what he thought of Arabella.



"You will apologize to Miss Neville at once," Blake growled, menace present in every syllable.



"What, oh, sorry, Miss. Neville, did you say? Not old Badger Neville's daughter? Rum one, he was, but the widow remarried well, to Jonas Davison if I'm not mistaken. I'm sorry, I can't think what got into me. Ever so pleased."



He tried to draw himself up in a more dignified manner, but tripped over his feet and would have fallen flat on his face had Blake not still had hold of him by the collar.



"So pleased," he said again. "You must call on my sister and I. She will be delighted."



He was nearly asleep by the time they got him into the drawing room.



Blake propped him up in a chair and turned to Arabella. Despite himself he took her hand. "I'm so sorry about that."



She shrugged one shoulder. "I'm all right."



"Let me get you some refreshment as long as we're here."



Philip came in a short time later, looking rather worried. "Are you all right?" he asked Arabella solicitously.



"Yes, fine. Thank you for the timely intervention, both of you."



Philip appeared visibly relieved. "He seems harmless, but he's not someone you want to be left alone with. Take my word for it."