“What?” Lucinda stared. “But what are you doing here?”
Harry closed the door and looked around again.
Lucinda had had enough. Eyes narrowing, she sailed across the room to confront him. “However, as you are here, I have a bone to pick with you!”
Reassured they were alone, Harry brought his gaze to her face as she halted, slender and straight, before him. “Indeed?”
“As you well know!” Lucinda glared up at him. “How dare you organise to have me invited to such a gathering as this? I realise you might be somewhat irritated because I did not accept your proposal—” She broke off as the thought occurred that she, like Lady Coleby, might be said to have rejected him. “But the circumstances were nothing like those of Lady Coleby. Or whoever she was then.” With an irritated wave, she dismissed Lady Coleby. “Whatever your feelings in the matter, I have to tell you that I view your behaviour in this instance as reprehensible! Utterly callous and without justification! It is totally inconceivable to me why you—”
“I didn’t.”
The steel beneath the words cut through her denunciation.
Arrested in mid-tirade, Lucinda blinked up at him. “You didn’t?”
His jaw set, his lips a thin line, Harry regarded her through narrowed eyes. “For a woman of superior sense, you frequently indulge the most remarkable notions. I didn’t arrange to have you invited. On the contrary.” His tone turned conversational, his accents remained clipped; the undercurrent was positively lethal. “When I discover who did, I’m going to wring his neck.”
“Oh.” Lucinda backed a step as he closed the distance between them. Her eyes met his; abruptly, she stiffened and stood her ground. “That’s all very well—but what are you doing here now?”
“Protecting you from your latest folly.”
“Folly?” Lucinda coolly raised her brows—and her chin. “What folly?”
“The folly of the invitation you just, all unwittingly, issued.” Harry glanced at the bed, then the fireplace. The fire was lit, a smallish blaze but there was plenty of wood by the hearth. An armchair sat before it.
Lucinda frowned. “What invitation?”
Harry’s gaze came back to her face; he merely raised his brows at her.
Lucinda snorted. “Nonsense. You’re imagining things. I issued no invitation—I did nothing of the sort.”
Harry gestured to the armchair. “Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”
“No—I want you out of here.” Lucinda couldn’t tilt her chin any higher. “Your presence is totally improper.”
Harry’s eyes glittered. “Naturally—that’s the purpose of these parties, in case you hadn’t realised.” His gaze fell to her breasts. “And speaking of improper—who the devil told you that gown was decent?”
“A whole host of appreciative gentlemen,” Lucinda informed him, belligerently planting her hands on her hips. “And I hardly need you to tell me what the purpose of this little gathering is but, for your information, I plan to have nothing to do with it.”
“Good—we agree on that much.”
Lucinda narrowed her eyes. Harry met her gaze with a stubbornness as unwavering as her own.
A knock came on the door.
Harry smiled coldly. He pointed a finger at Lucinda’s nose. “Wait here.”
Without waiting for any agreement, he swung on his heel and retraced his steps. He opened the door. “Yes?”
Alfred jumped. “Oh—ah!” He blinked wildly. “Oh—it’s you, Harry. Er—I didn’t realise.”
“Obviously.”
Alfred shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then gestured vaguely. “Right-ho! Er…I’ll call later, then.”
“Don’t bother—the rece
ption will be the same.”