Nicole Jordan by Wicked Fantasy

shook her head. If Deverill was pursuing her, she was certain it was only because he was trying to come between her and Lord Heward.
    And at the moment Deverill wasn’t showing her any interest at all. Instead he was being fawned over by a half-dozen young ladies who were gazing up at him adoringly, obviously hoping to be chosen for his dance partner. But then, Antonia was well aware, the dangerous edge of his appeal was enough to make most women go weak in the knees. It simply annoyed her that she could be counted among their number.
    It disturbed her more that Deverill might deliberately try to ruin her brilliant match. And as she stood watching him, she silently vowed to withstand any efforts he made to break up her betrothal, and almost as importantly, to resist being bowled over by his powerful personality.
    Her resolve was tested within the hour, for he approached her just as she finished a set of country dances with Lord Heward.
    Heward had rarely left her side all evening, as if he was keeping guard on her. And when Deverill asked his permission to waltz with her, the baron firmly refused.
    “I hardly think it good for Miss Maitland’s reputation to be seen standing up with you, Deverill,” his lordship observed. “Particularly the waltz.”
    Antonia felt herself stiffen. Given the chance, she would have refused Deverill’s offer on her own, but her betrothed’s proprietary air was beginning to fray her nerves.
    She smiled sweetly at Heward, even as she placed her hand on Deverill’s arm. “I believe my reputation can withstand a simple waltz,” she said, before allowing Deverill to lead her onto the floor.
    He evidently noticed the tightness of her jaw, for the corner of his mouth crooked with satisfaction. “I didn’t think you would take kindly to Heward ordering you about.”
    Antonia kept her glance cool as she looked up at Deverill. “I don’t take kindly to your effrontery, either. You are deliberately attempting to provoke him.”
    “How did I provoke him?” he asked, all innocence. “My request to dance with you was perfectly unexceptional. Any number of ladies have stood up with me this evening.”
    “Perhaps because they mistake you for a gentleman.”
    Deverill’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Not everyone has your discernment, love.”
    Trying not to respond to that appealing gleam, she glanced around them to see that, once again, they were the focus of intense curiosity. Wincing inwardly, she returned her attention to Deverill. “You seem to be developing the annoying habit of appearing uninvited everywhere I turn.”
    “But I have been invited. Believe it or not, I’ve been inundated with invitations since my return to London.”
    “I suppose hostesses do enjoy having you for the novel value,” Antonia remarked. “That, and to partner the wallflowers at their balls.”
    “Not only the wallflowers.” The mocking deviltry was back in his eyes. “I am considered fairly eligible, you know.”
    She did know. Deverill came from an excellent family, despite his long-term quarrel with them, and the size of his fortune would make him a matrimonial prize, no matter his lack of title or his questionable reputation.
    The music began then, so Antonia was required to wait until they were settled into the rhythm of the waltz before speaking again. “I see why you would be invited everywhere. What I don’t understand is why you accept. You told me you don’t care for London society.”
    “I don’t. The shallowness grates on me. My family gave me an aversion to superficiality and pretentiousness at an early age. Actually, I much prefer the American perspective, where a man’s worth is not measured by his origins or his rank in the peerage.” He paused, then said pointedly, “Your father was a prime example of that.”
    Antonia wrinkled her nose at him, knowing it was a jab at her determination to wed a nobleman. “Yet you seem to be on excellent terms with Lord