She smirked. "Still maintaining that pleasant fiction, are we?"
He smiled back tightly. "In the same way you seem to maintain the pleasant fiction that I ever cared about you and would come back to you if only Arabella were out of the way.
"But she isn't in your way. You are. You're your own worst enemy, and not a person I choose to know. Now, if you will excuse me-"
"Can you at least be kind enough to get me some punch, if it's not too much trouble?" she asked suddenly.
"What? Oh, yes, of course, " Blake said, his inate sense of gallantry winning above his anger and disgust.
It took him some time to make his way through the crush in the refreshment room, by which time Arabella had been whisked away from Philip, and Leonore was able to put on a convincing performance of worry.
"There you are. There was a messenger looking for you. Something about an emergency at the clinic."
"What? Where is he? What's happened?" he asked quickly, looking around.
"I told him to look for you in the refreshment room."
"Very good then. Thank you. Here you are." He handed her the cup. "I need to find my ward. Good night."
Arabella had been observing Blake and Leonore together for some time with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They looked more than intimate together. She had been trying to fend off the assiduous attentions of Adam for some time, but when she saw Blake with his lover, a fit of jealousy overtook her.
She allowed herself to be led away from Philip's side as Oliver had begin to monopolize him in a conversation about gambling.
She found herself in a small alcove with Adam, who stroked his hand down her cheek as though he were caressing a treasure, and looked at her as though he were a starving man presented with a sumptuous meal.
"My dear Miss Neville, Arabella, please allow me to hope that my attentions have not gone unnoticed, and that you might consider us furthering our acquaintance as more than simply cousins. My heart is all aflutter-"
She blushed and did not know where to look. As she cast her eyes about away from her interlocutor, she espied Blake searching for her on the other side of the room.
He saw her, and stiffened. Then he signalled to her with a curt movement of his head across the crowded dance floor to join him near the entrance to the ballroom. He must be pretty annoyed with her if he was making her leave…
"I believe we have been missed. I must go."
"I shall take it as a yes then, that you like-" he continued.
"Yes, yes," she said, so distracted that she did not pay attention to what she was promising as she hurriedly moved to Blake's side.
"Thank you," Adam said, with a smile and nod to Oliver. It was all falling into place for them at last…
A tall dark-suited man handed Blake a note from the clinic as he was waiting for her. He growled his thanks, seething with jealousy over the little tete a tete he had interrupted between Arabella and Adam. He read the one line missive,
"Come at once. Urgent. Dr. Herriot," and put it in his pocket.
He motioned Thomas to come over to him, and explained his predicament.
Arabella came up a short time later, expecting a good telling off for having been caught out with Adam.
Instead he said, "I'm sorry, I have to go. Thomas and Charlotte will take you home. Will you be all right?"
"Fine," she said, masking her surprise and relief. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"I don't know what sort of emergency I'm dealing with, but it must be something serious. I wouldn't want to expose you to--."
"But you do it yourself every day."
"No, dear. We are not going to have this disagreement again now," he said in a firm tone. "I have to go."
He took her hand and squeezed it warmly, then led her over to where Charlotte Eltham was standing with Alistair Grant.
"Good luck!" the Duke called.
But Blake was already striding out the door.
Waiting at the door was Leonore. They all watched as Blake spoke to her quickly, and then the two of them left together.
Arabella thought she was going to be ill. He had lied! They had made an assignation right under everyone's nose, and gone off together. How could he?
She told herself she had no right to be jealous, that they did not have that kind of relationship, and never could have. That Leonore had the prior claim, and he evidently enjoyed her company, could not be in dispute.
But how he could prefer the older woman to her was confusing and terrifying. What sort of hold did she have over him? What was the secret of her charms?