Rendezvous by Amanda Quick Page A

instead of blood in your veins, Harry. And everyone knows cold-blooded men do better than hotblooded ones on the dueling field.”
    “That is a theory I do not intend to test personally.” Harry frowned as he watched Lovejoy whirl Augusta around in a particularly uninhibited turn on the dance floor. “If you will excuse me, I believe I shall claim a dance with my fiancée.”
    “Do that. You can entertain her with some elevating lectures on propriety.” Peter levered himself away from the wall. “In the meantime, I believe I shall ruin the Angel’s evening by requesting a dance. Five to one she turns me down flat.”
    “Try talking to her about the book she is writing,” Harry suggested absently as he set down his glass on a passing tray.
    “What book is that?”
    “I believe Sir Thomas said the title was
A Guide to Useful Knowledge for Young Ladies
.”
    “Good God.” Peter looked suitably appalled. “Is every woman in London writing a book?”
    “It would appear so. Cheer up,” Harry advised. “You might learn something useful.”
    He moved off into the crowd, forging a path through the colorful throng. His progress was halted on several occasionsby acquaintances who insisted on detaining him long enough to offer congratulations on the engagement.
    During the past two days, in fact, ever since the notices had appeared in the papers, Harry had become well aware that most of Society was quite intrigued by the announcement of the unexpected alliance.
    Lady Willoughby, a stout matron dressed in pink, rapped her fan on the black sleeve of Harry’s evening coat as he went past. “So it’s Miss Augusta Ballinger who made it to the top of your list, eh, my lord? Never would have guessed the two of you would make a match of it. But then, you’ve always been a deep one, haven’t you, Graystone?”
    “I assume you are congratulating me on my engagement,” Harry said coolly.
    “But of course, sir. All of Society is happy to congratulate you. We are expecting the entire affair to provide us with considerable entertainment this Season, you see.”
    Harry narrowed his eyes. “No, madam, I do not see.”
    “Come, now, my lord, you must admit this is all bound to be wonderfully amusing. You and Augusta Ballinger are such an unlikely pair, are you not? It will be vastly interesting to see if you can get her to the altar without being obliged to fight any duels or without requesting her uncle to ship her off to the country. She’s a Northumberland Ballinger, you know. Troublesome lot, that branch of the family.”
    “My 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 turnedaway. 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 face. Nor did he care for the way