by Eva Shepherd
She leant down and brushed the train of Miss Lockhart’s gown, even though it was perfectly straight. When she stood up, she had expected...had hoped... Mr Lockhart would have looked away, but he was still staring straight at her with those pitch-dark eyes. She held his gaze, unable to look away. How had she ever thought his eyes were cold? They were not cold. Like black velvet they were rich and warm. They were eyes that could draw you in, deeper and deeper, until you willingly surrendered to their dark depths.
Nellie shook her head to drive away such fanciful thoughts and to break the forceful hold of his gaze.
She held herself erect and tried to act as if seeing him again was having no effect on her whatsoever and started to descend the stairs, but the silly shop girl still wouldn’t listen and the pounding and fluttering raging in her body would not be stilled.
Her descent was halted when a young girl of about seventeen and a child rushed past her, flying down the stairs as fast as they could and screeching to a halt in front of Mr Lockhart.
‘We want to go to the ball, too,’ the youngest cried out in an excited voice. ‘Please, Dominic, please.’ She jumped up and down, holding on to his hand.
‘We’ve already talked about this, Emmaline.’ He looked up at Amanda, who shrugged her shoulders as if to say it was his problem. He sighed loudly and looked back at the excited child.
‘All right, Emmaline,’ he said, his voice stern. ‘You and Violet can stand in the reception line, but you have to promise to go to bed immediately after the guests have arrived.’
Emmaline squealed her delight. Violet clapped her hands together with glee, then kissed him on the cheek. He kissed the younger child on the top of her head and the two girls departed, hand in hand, talking loudly and excitedly.
Nellie found herself smiling and for a moment she forgot her resolve to not let anything Mr Lockhart did or said affect her. His affection for his sisters was obvious. No wonder he had come all the way to London, then followed her to The Hanged Man, all so his eldest sister could have the hairstyle she wanted. It seemed he would do anything to make his sisters happy.
How could she not be attracted to such a man? His gaze turned back to her and she quickly remembered her earlier admonition. She was not a silly shop girl. She was a businesswoman who was here to do a job and she would behave in a completely professional manner at all times. She stood up straighter, forced that silly grin off her face and descended the stairs with as much decorum as she could muster.
Now, remember, Nellie, best behaviour. No imitations, no rude comments. Act like a lady at all times and make sure you do not do or say anything that you will later regret.
* * *
It must be the effect of taking a beating last month. He wasn’t thinking straight. Otherwise Dominic would not be standing at the foot of the stairs, staring up at Nellie Regan like some lovestruck puppy or adolescent boy with his first crush.
He coughed lightly, drew himself up taller and forced his gaze to move to his sister, who did indeed look beautiful this evening. He assumed something had changed with her hair, or perhaps it was what she was wearing, or was it because it was the first time he had actually seen her smiling before a ball and giving every appearance that she was actually looking forward to it.
Whatever Miss Regan had done it had obviously worked. Amanda looked radiant. Despite his reluctance to see Miss Regan again it seemed it had been worthwhile having his sister’s hair styled by the former lady’s maid, if it could give her so much pleasure.
‘Yes, Amanda, you look beautiful,’ he said and his sister beamed with joy. ‘The first guests will be arriving soon, so we need to be ready to greet them.’ And I need to get away from Miss Regan before I say or do anything foolish.
Amanda kissed Miss Regan on the cheek as if they were now friends and rushed down the remaining steps and through to the ballroom to join her sisters. His gaze returned to Miss Regan. She also looked stunning in a plain cream blouse and dark green skirt. So stunning he had no choice but to watch her as she descended at a more leisurely pace than his excitable sister. She was so elegant, so aristocratic in her bearing. But she wasn’t an aristocrat, she was an ex-servant, someone now in trade, and she was here to tend to his sister. That was something he should not forget.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs, he heard the rustling of her skirt and her undergarments, a sound that evoked images of silk, of her silk-like complexion, her silk stockings, the silky softness of her skin at the top of those stockings, the...
He coughed to drive out that uninvited but tantalising image. ‘Miss Regan, thank you for coming tonight. My sister obviously appreciated it.’
She reached the bottom of the stairs and smiled up at him. ‘You’re very welcome and your sister is a delight.’
He nodded. ‘As promised, I have instructed the servants to prepare a suite for you and a meal will be brought up to your room. The coachman has been instructed to take you back to the station at a time of your choosing. I’ve also instructed my steward to provide you with sufficient remuneration to compensate you for the time you have taken away from your business. I hope that is satisfactory.’
Dominic’s voice sounded suitably professional. Good. He felt much more comfortable now that they were discussing business terms, although he’d feel even more comfortable if she wasn’t gazing up at him with those bright green eyes, or if those soft pink lips weren’t slightly parted, as if encouraging him to imagine what it would be like to kiss her.
She gave a little laugh, as if he had made a joke, although he suspected she was laughing at his formal manner, not anything amusing he might have said. ‘Very satisfactory, thank you.’
‘Good. Then I hope you have an enjoyable night.’
‘And you as well. I hope your ball is a rip-roaring success, just like your engagement party.’ She bit her lip and blushed slightly, although he doubted it was from embarrassment.
He suppressed an exasperated sigh. Of course she wouldn’t be embarrassed. She enjoyed mocking him and it seemed she was doing it again. Although he had to admit she was right. His engagement party had been somewhat staid, but that was in keeping with the occasion. It was an event to announce the advantageous joining of two families. And his own ball would not be a rip-roaring affair either. It would be one of his sister’s last chances to find a suitable husband before the end of the Season and would be conducted with all the necessary decorum.
‘You’re right, Miss Regan. My engagement party was nothing like a night out at The Hanged Man.’ He knew he was sounding pompous, but he would not let her mock him in that manner without any repercussions.
Any hint that she had embarrassed herself with her jibe about his engagement party disappeared. Instead, she thrust her chin forward, in that defiant manner with which he was becoming familiar. ‘No, you wouldn’t want to host a ball where there was laughing and merry-making. You couldn’t expect the gentry to do something as common as actually enjoy themselves.’
It was Dominic’s turn to bristle. ‘Indeed, the gentry do tend to aim for a level of refinement and decorum that would be out of place at The Hanged Man.’
Her lips tightened into an irritated line. ‘Well, I suppose decorum and refinement is one way to describe it.’ She exhaled loudly. ‘Although I’d call it boring and passionless,’ she murmured, but loud enough so he could hear.
Dominic’s teeth clenched tightly together. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly through flared nostrils. He would not rise to her bait. He would not be seen arguing with an ex-lady’s maid when his guests arrived, no matter how insulting and ill mannered her behaviour.
‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Regan, I have a rip-roaring ball to attend.’ With that he took Miss Regan’s hand and kissed the back of it. Why he felt the need to do that when even a formal bow was more than he would usually perform for a servant or a person in trade, Dominic did no
t know. Perhaps it was because she was the most irritating woman he had ever met and such irritation had upset his equilibrium and caused him to act so oddly. Or was it because despite everything, he just found her so damn attractive and wanted to feel the touch of her skin against his lips?
Whatever his reason, Dominic took some satisfaction at having removed that superior look from her face. Her mouth had fallen open, her eyes had grown wide and she was staring at her hand as if she no longer knew what this strange thing was attached to the end of her arm.
Good. Dominic smiled to himself as he walked through to the ballroom. It hadn’t been his intention to shock her, but shocking Miss Regan was indeed a very satisfying thing to do.
Chapter Fourteen
Dominic stood in the reception line at the entrance to the ballroom, greeting his guests. This ball was important. He had to remember that and not get distracted. It was nearing the end of the Season and Amanda needed to secure some interest from at least one of the titled men present. And as the host it was also his opportunity to make an impression on the guests, members of England’s elite, men who would now see him as the future son-in-law of the Duke of Ashmore, not as the son of a former stable boy.
Focusing on the task of meeting and greeting would be made a lot easier if he wasn’t still thinking about Nellie Regan. Somewhere in his house she was no doubt wreaking havoc. Either that or she was flirting with one of the servants. He looked over at the line of footmen, standing tall and straight along the far wall. No, she wouldn’t be doing that. They’d be busy until the ball was over. Not that he should care who she chose to flirt with. She could flirt with as many footmen, coachmen or whomever she wanted to. It was none of his business. He bowed his head as another aristocratic couple was announced.
It was the present company he should be concentrating on, not some disrespectful ex-lady’s maid. These people were all closely associated with his future in-laws and it wouldn’t be long before they would be associated with him. His sister would hopefully soon be married to a titled man. Thanks to his marriage to Lady Cecily, his younger sisters, Violet and Emmaline, would be presented at court when they came out and their opportunities for a successful marriage into the highest ranks of English society would be all but assured.
It was all perfect. Everything was going to plan, exactly as he had hoped. He glanced at Amanda, who was greeting Lord Westcliffe, Marquess of Peningdale, the eldest son of the Duke of Castlemere. She looked so happy and was sending the Duke’s son coy, flirtatious glances, which were being received with enthusiastic smiles.
It was strange how a hairstyle could change a woman so radically, or was it due to Miss Regan’s influence? Had she said something to Amanda that had brought about this transformation from a young woman who always looked bored and sat in the corner as if she’d rather not be noticed, to someone who wanted to shine and be the centre of attention?
If she possessed a skill like that, he could see why her business was prospering. He turned back to greet another couple, who, prior to the announcement of his engagement to Lady Cecily, would not have deigned to attend a social occasion hosted by someone as lowly as him.
They swept past him and he looked back at his radiant sister, still sending smiles at Lord Westcliffe as she absentmindedly greeted more guests. There was no doubting that a few hours in Miss Regan’s company had had a positive effect on his sister. But wasn’t that what he had paid her for. She had simply done her job and he should be giving it no more thought than he did to the people who had decorated the ballroom for tonight’s occasion, or the musicians waiting patiently for his signal to begin playing. Miss Regan had done the job he had paid her for, nothing more. That was the only reason she was here in this house and he would give her no more thought this evening.
He flicked a gaze around the room. At his engagement party she had secretly watched from the minstrels’ gallery. The ballroom at Lockhart House did not possess a gallery, but he wouldn’t put it past her to be hiding behind one of the many large potted palms or bouquets of flowers so she could later mock the proceedings.
But the palms and flower arrangements were all free of nosy ex-lady’s maids. Nor could he see her lurking behind the marble columns that edged the ballroom or peeking out from behind the musicians seated on the elevated stage at the far end of the room.
He briefly wondered if she might be secreted under the refreshment table. But now he was being absurd. He smiled to himself. She could be outrageous, but even Miss Regan would not go that far.
The final group of guests arrived and he signalled to the band to start playing the first dance of the evening. Dominic turned to his fiancée and smiled politely. ‘May I have the pleasure of the first dance?’
She sent him a small nod, as if she were performing a duty rather than taking part in a pleasurable activity. Cecily placed her gloved hand on the back of his hand and with stiff formality allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor. Images of Nellie’s performance in front of the servants invaded his mind. She had been exaggerating, but not by much.
Nellie had mocked the lack of passion between him and Cecily and she was right. They were little more than acquaintances when they had agreed to become engaged. He had assumed that lack of familiarity would decrease over the course of their engagement, but if anything, they were more like strangers now than they had been before they had agreed to marry.
Whereas with Nellie Regan he had felt immediately relaxed in her company. He had laughed, had talked, he’d even shared details of his life that he rarely discussed with anyone.
But he most definitely should not be thinking of that now. Not when he had his fiancée in his arms. Or should he say, almost in his arms. Once again Cecily was making sure there was plenty of space between them, despite the intimacy of the waltz.
‘Cecily, you seem very distracted this evening. Is everything all right?’
She looked up at him, almost startled that he had spoken to her, then seemed to force herself to smile. ‘Oh, yes, perfectly all right, but thank you for asking. And you, I assume you are also well this evening?’
The level of politeness was almost absurd and the falsity of her smile was at odds with her claim that she was perfectly all right.
‘You’re not having doubts about our engagement, are you? If you are, please do not feel under any obligation.’
Was she having doubts, or was it he who was starting to question this arrangement?
Her smile remained frozen on her face. ‘No, I’m not having doubts. Not at all. As Father says, our marriage will be the perfect match. It was a great honour that you asked my father for my hand and once we have had the opportunity to get better acquainted, I am sure we will have a perfectly happy marriage.’
Her tone of voice and that forced smile suggested she was repeating a well-rehearsed speech, one perhaps that her father had given to her. His engagement was an ideal arrangement for him and for the Hardgrave family, and he had assumed it was what Cecily wanted as well. But whether she had any actual feelings for him, that was impossible to discern.
And she was wrong. He hadn’t asked the Duke of Ashmore for Lady Cecily’s hand. The arrangement had been suggested by the Duke himself and he had been told that Lady Cecily had expressed interest in him. It seemed that was not entirely the case—either Cecily was mistaken or she had been misled by her father.
Courting Lady Cecily hadn’t occurred to Dominic until her father had suggested the arrangement, but he had immediately seen it as an excellent idea. She was refined, attractive and the daughter of a duke, the sort of woman any man would want for a wife. Until a month ago he had not questioned that decision.
But now he was wondering if he had been blinded by his desire to advance his family’s position in society. And what of Lady Cecily? Was this marriage really what she wanted, or was she merely doing what her father told her to, against her own wishes?
He had thought that she was equally in agreement—after all, she had claimed she couldn’t be happier when he had asked for her hand. But nothing in her actions since that day suggested she was genuinely happy. Had he been blinded to what she really wanted because their marriage suited him perfectly? Was he now seeing signs of reluctance on her part because that, too, suited him? Dominic was never confused about what he wanted. Usually he knew exactly what he wanted, made a decision and stuck to it. But suddenly his engagement to Cecily Hardgrave was becoming increasingly confusing and causing him to question the wisdom of his decisions.
‘You should do what makes you happy, Cecily,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about what anyone else wants, your father, or me. Do what makes you happy.’ He was starting to sound like his parents, or, worse than that, Nellie Regan, with all this talk of happiness, but he could not see this young woman suffer if marriage to him was not what she wanted.
She looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn together, her false smile wavering. The band finished playing and they stopped dancing.
‘Thank you, Dominic.’ He was unsure whether she was thanking him for the dance or for what he had just said, or merely making polite, meaningless conversation.
He offered her his arm. She placed her gloved hand lightly on his forearm and he led her off the dance floor. Cecily immediately excused herself, muttering something about a problem with the servants she needed to sort out. Dominic watched her leave the ballroom. He’d never met anyone who had more problems with their servants. It seemed every time they were together, she had to rush off to sort out some problem or other.
Cecily and her parents were staying at Lockhart Estate overnight, so had brought Cecily’s lady’s maid, along with the family’s coachman, a footman and her parents’ personal servants. With so few servants in attendance Dominic could hardly see what problems would demand her immediate attention. But it would seem he was wrong.
He looked around and saw Amanda was dancing with the Duke of Castlemere’s son. This was even more than he had hoped for when he had decided to host a ball. He smiled with satisfaction. When the other guests saw she had drawn the attentions of someone so high up in the social hierarchy it would certainly spark interest among the unmarried men. Dominic was sure he would soon be getting visits from one or more of the young men, with requests to keep company with his sister.