Rendezvous by Amanda Quick Page A

fiancée is a lady," Harry said very quietly. He held the woman's gaze for a chilling instant, allowing no emotion to cross his face. "I expect that when people speak of her, they will keep that fact in mind. You will remember that, will you not, madam?"
    Lady Willoughby blinked uncertainly and turned a dull red. "Well, of course, my lord. I meant no offense. I was merely teasing you. Our Augusta is a lively young woman, but we are all fond of her and wish her the best."
    "Thank you. I shall convey that information to her." Harry inclined his head with icy politeness and turned away. Inwardly he groaned. No doubt about it, Augusta's enthusiastic approached to life had endowed her with an unfortunate reputation for recklessness. He was going to have to rein her in before she got into trouble.
    He finally cornered her on the far side of the ballroom, where she stood chatting and laughing with Lovejoy. As if she sensed his close proximity, she broke off in the middle of a sentence and turned her head to meet Harry's gaze. A speculative gleam appeared in her eyes and she unfurled her fan with languid grace.
    "I wondered when you would show up tonight, my lord," Augusta said. "Have you made the acquaintance of Lord Lovejoy?"
    "We've met." Harry nodded brusquely at the other man. He did not like the slyly amused expression in Lovejoy's race. Nor did he care for the way the man was standing so close to Augusta.
    "Yes, of course. Belong to some of the same clubs, don't we, Graystone?" Lovejoy turned to Augusta and caught her gloved hand in a gallant gesture. "I suppose I must relinquish you to your future lord and master, my dear," he said as he brought her fingers to his lips. "I realize now that all is lost as far as I am concerned. I can only hope that you will feel some pity in your heart for the devastating blow you have delivered to me by getting yourself engaged to Graystone, here."
    "I am sure you will recover quickly, sir." Augusta retrieved her fingers and dismissed Lovejoy with a smile. She turned to Harry as the baron disappeared into the crowd.
    Her eyes held a certain challenging glitter and she looked flushed. It struck Harry that Augusta had had that oddly heightened color in her face on each of the two short occasions he had seen her since the engagement had been announced.
    He thought he knew the reason for the blush. Every time Augusta looked at him she was obviously remembering their midnight rendezvous when she had wound up lying in his arms on the floor of his library. It was clear that Miss Ballinger, in spite of being descended of the Northumberland branch of the family, was horribly embarrassed by the memory. It was a good sign, Harry decided. It indicated the lady had some notion of propriety, after all.
    "Are you too warm, Augusta?" Harry asked with polite concern.
    She shook her head quickly. "No, no, I am fine, my lord. Now, then, have you come over here to ask me to dance, sir? Or to lecture me on some fine point of behavior?"
    "The latter." Harry took her hand and led her out through the open windows into the garden.
    "I was afraid of that." Augusta toyed with her fan as they crossed the terrace. Then she snapped it closed. "I have been doing a great deal of thinking, my lord."
    "So have I." Harry drew her to a halt near a stone bench. "Sit down, my dear. I believe we should talk."
    "Oh, dear. I knew it would be like this.
I just knew it
." She scowled up at him as she sank gracefully down onto the bench. "My lord, this is never going to work out. We may as well face it and be done with it."
    "What is never going to work out?" Harry put one booted foot on the end of the bench and rested an elbow on his knee. He studied Augusta's earnest face as she confronted him in the shadows. "Are you referring to our engagement, by any chance?"
    "I most certainly am. I have been going over this matter again and again and I cannot help but believe you truly are making a grave mistake. I want you to know that I am