Chapter Eight
Arabella danced an energetic contredanse with the Marquis of Revelstoke, enjoying his banter and his resplendent appearance equally. Afterwards he went off to procure a drink for her—and returned with a glass, and Adam St. Just.
“You know each other, don’t you?” he said innocently, as he handed Arabella her lemonade.
“Coyness doesn’t suit you, Jeremy,” St. Just told him.
Revelstoke laid a hand on his breast. His eyes opened wide, blue and guileless. “Coy? Me?”
St. Just snorted.
The marquis looked extremely wounded. Arabella bit her lip to hide a smile, and sipped her lemonade.
“Are you engaged for the next dance, Adam?” the marquis asked.
St. Just hesitated for a second, and then shook his head.
Revelstoke turned to her. His eyes were very blue, and very limpid. He r
