The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance Read Free Page B

surreptitiously winked when Lord Tennison and Mrs Wadsworth took an adjacent table. Geoffrey placed her with her back to the other couple, then leaned down and said, “He shot an interested glance in your direction. He is most definitely intrigued. Let’s see if we can keep it that way.” He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing footman. “I shall go fill a couple of plates from the buffet. Don’t you dare let another chap take my seat.” He grinned and walked away towards the tables set out like groaning boards.
    She realized she was starving, as she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d been nervous all day, but now she was surprisingly calm, despite the rather startling turn of events. How strange to think that she had come tonight hoping to make him jealous and perhaps to see her in a different light, and instead …
    But wait a moment. That was still her ultimate objective, was it not? To make him see her as a woman, a desirable woman worthy of a man’s attention. It was possible that all the play-acting had forced him to see her differently. Was that enough?
    When this scheme had been hatched, it was because men were supposedly susceptible to jealousy. It had come about on a dreary, rainy day too wet to do anything out of doors. Daniel and his friend Philip Hartwell had been sprawled upon the drawing room sofas, bored to tears and itching to be out and about. With nothing else to do, they had deigned to spend time in her company — a novelty as she was five years younger than Daniel, the little sister only occasionally tolerated. They had been talking of the Erskine ball and who they might dance with or whether they should simply haunt the card room. Philip had asked Lydia about her friend Daphne Hughes and if she would be attending. She was quite sure he had a
tendre
for Daphne, though he would never admit to it. He asked Lydia whom she was hoping to dance with, and soon both he and Daniel were teasing her about several gentlemen. The gloomy day had affected her mood and she told them, rather snappily, that she did not care tuppence for any of those men, that the only man she cared about didn’t know she was alive.
    That confession had set them off. They begged his name but she refused to tell and soon wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Eventually, they both dropped their teasing, especially Daniel who seemed genuinely concerned that his sister’s heart was in danger of being broken. The two young men commiserated over ways she might attract the unnamed gentleman, but it had all seemed horribly embarrassing and she had more or less ignored their advice.
    Until, that is, they had struck upon the notion of making the man jealous. That had seemed a more logical approach, especially as they cited several romances where jealousy had turned the tide. As the Erskine ball approached, she’d become less sanguine about the plan they’d concocted, but the idea of jealousy as a means of encouragement still held a ring of truth for her. Upon consideration, Lydia decided the original plan ought not to be completely discarded just yet.
    She looked up to see Lord Tennison returning to the adjacent table with a plate of food. He was tall and lean, and quite fit for a man of his age, which must be at least thirty-five. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, his face chiselled into sharp planes and angles. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his lips were more often than not curled into a seductive leer. Lord Tennison was considered a dangerous man, with an unsavoury reputation and no honour where women were concerned. Yet, he was an infamous rake with many high-born conquests, so clearly a good number of females were drawn to him. He was still handsome, in a world-weary sort of way, but he held no appeal for Lydia. His dark, swarthy looks were the antithesis of Geoffrey’s golden beauty. She had, however, named him, and so she might as well make use of him.
    She caught his eye and smiled. He paused, arched an eyebrow,