LITMIR.BIZ

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he apologised as they walked off the floor. ‘Allow me to take you back to Lady Freshford.’ Their way was blocked by a number of military men and one moved as Mr Mays tapped him on the shoulder to make his way through. ‘Hello again, Fredericks, Peterson.’

      They turned, their scarlet coats taut across well-muscled backs, and Decima caught her breath at finding herself surrounded by quite so much tall masculinity. Her partner grinned at them. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Ross. Miss Ross, Colonel Lord Peterson, Major Fredericks.’

      Decima bobbed a curtsy, expecting them to smile politely and resume their conversation. Instead they both, to her astonishment, asked her to dance. ‘Anyone who can make Mays look elegant on the dance floor is the partner for me,’ the Colonel declared, managing to get in before his more junior colleague.

      Half an hour later Decima was delivered back to Lady Freshford and Henry, breathless and more than a little inclined to giggle. It felt as though she had been drinking champagne, which was ridiculous as not a drop had passed her lips.

      And then the desire to laugh quite left her. Adam was approaching, Olivia clinging to his arm. ‘Miss Channing! Lord Weston, how do you do?’ Decima hastily performed the introductions.

      ‘We were just going in to supper,’ Olivia murmured shyly. ‘Would you join us?’

      Decima was expecting a resumption of the morning’s tension between the two men. Instead, Adam was looking as though a pleasant idea had just struck him, and Henry was staring at Olivia as though he had seen a ghost. He saw Decima watching him and the look vanished, to be replaced by one of polite interest.

      ‘Yes, do run along, dears.’ Lady Freshford was gathering up her fan and reticule. ‘I can see Augusta Wimpole over there. We can have supper together and a good gossip. Caro is there already with some young friends.’

      Adam led the way to a table in the refreshment room and settled Olivia beside Decima, before departing with Henry to raid the buffet on their behalf.

      ‘What a lovely dress,’ Olivia said shyly. ‘Mama would never let me wear such a pretty colour.’

      ‘I am sure it would not suit you as well as the gown you are wearing. It looks quite exquisite with your colouring. Besides,’ Decima confided, lowering her voice, ‘I am regretting this neckline—I have never felt so exposed in my life.’

      ‘It is a little bit daring, but you do have such nice shoulders,’ Olivia said.

      She is sweet, Decima thought, smiling at the compliment. Would she make Adam a good wife? She would be sure to try and do her duty. How chilly that sounded.

      ‘Is Sir Henry—?’ Olivia broke off, blushing. ‘Do you and he have an understanding?’

      ‘Goodness, no!’ Decima laughed, then saw Adam turn to look at her as the sound cut through the babble of conversation. ‘No, indeed not,’ she added, lowering her voice. ‘We are just very good friends. He is one of the nicest people I know.’

      ‘Oh.’ Olivia dropped her gaze to her hands and fell silent, only rousing herself when the men returned with plates full of delicacies.

      ‘Lemonade, Miss Channing?’ Henry asked, bending over Olivia solicitously. No one had asked Decima what she would like, but when the men returned Adam placed a champagne flute in front of her. Startled, she looked from one man to the other, but Henry was chatting easily to Olivia and all Adam did was to raise one dark brow.

      ‘Do you prefer lemonade?’

      ‘Not really, if I am to be honest.’ Decima picked it up and took a sip, loving the way the bubbles fizzed up her nose. And the way her blood fizzed in her veins. Adam was so close she could feel the heat of him where his arm rested on the table next to hers.

      ‘Oh, let us be honest at all costs,’ he agreed softly, his eyes resting on their companions. ‘Tell me Decima, is Freshford…entangled with anyone?’

      ‘No. Not that I know of.’ She was startled into answering without thinking. ‘And it would be no business of mine if he were—I am certainly not going to answer personal questions about my friends!’

      ‘Just curious.’ The champagne swirled in his glass. Decima found herself watching it, watching the long, strong fingers holding the fragile stem and remembering them on her body.

      Adam seemed to snap out of his abstraction and shifted in his seat, reaching for a fork. ‘These patties look good.’

      Decima agreed, nibbling at a corner. Where had her appetite gone? She took another sip of champagne.

      ‘Am I forgiven yet?’ Adam had speared an asparagus roll, but his gaze was resting on the swell of her breasts in the low-cut gown.

      Decima fought the instinct to hunch her shoulders and managed not to enquire coldly what exactly he meant. ‘Of course. We discussed that this morning. I have quite put it from my mind.’

      ‘I wish I had. I suspect I was somewhat…prickly this morning.’ One dark brow slanted upwards. Decima could not decide whether he was being satirical.

      ‘You were, certainly. Why?’

      It really was hopeless trying to disconcert him with direct questions. He did at least have the grace to lower his voice as he answered, ‘Because I assumed that you and Freshford were attached.’

      Decima glanced at Henry and Olivia, but they were happily engrossed in an animated conversation. Olivia was pleasingly flushed and was waving her hands around in a way that seemed quite out of character while she described something. ‘Well, we are not,’ she snapped. ‘We are very good friends. And anyway, whatever concern is it of yours?’

      ‘I can see you are not, now I see him on foot,’ Adam commented, low voiced. ‘After all, he only comes up to your…’ He waved a hand graphically at her upper-chest level.

      ‘If I loved him, height would not be an issue,’ Decima retorted stiffly. ‘And I repeat, what business is it of yours?’

      ‘Why, I am jealous, of course.’ He said it in exactly the tone he might have used to comment on the weather.

      Decima gazed at him blankly, realised her mouth was open and shut it. Henry was quite correct—Adam had added her to his collection and was feeling proprietorial about her, despite his being engaged to another woman.

      ‘Do I have to remind you that you are an engaged man?’ she whispered fiercely.

      ‘I know. What a pity that harems have not caught on in England.’

      ‘You are outrageous,’ Decima scolded, feeling quite ridiculous, lecturing a man in a whisper over lobster patties. The wretch was no doubt only teasing her, but she could not let him get away with this. ‘Poor Olivia—’

      ‘Is flirting,’ Adam whispered back, inclining his head towards his fiancée.

      ‘Of course she…is.’ Goodness, who would have thought it? Meek little Olivia was gazing into Henry’s eyes and positively batting her lashes at him. What would Adam do? Expecting him to intervene at any moment, Decima watched aghast.

      ‘The poor child never managed to get away from her mama long enough to indulge in a little harmless flirtation,’ Adam murmured into Decima’s ear, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise and tingle deliciously. ‘I am certainly not going to start lecturing her in the same spirit.’

      So, he was so confident about Olivia that he was relaxed about her flirting with a man of Henry’s quite exceptional good looks. Why, then, had he been so prickly when he thought she and Henry were in some way involved?

      ‘Why are you frowning?’ Adam snapped his fingers at a passing footman and secured two more glasses of champagne.

      ‘Because I don’t understand you,’ Decima admitted frankly. ‘You seem positively inconsistent.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Adam bowed slightly. ‘But ladies are inconsistent.

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