by Jenna Jaxon
That last thought brought him up short. So startled him, in fact, that he stopped at the edge of the ballroom floor, still as a statue.
What was he thinking? He glanced down at Miss Sharpe, who’d turned an inquisitive face up to him.
Damnation. He couldn’t stand here and debate it with himself. He would, however, revisit this moment long and hard later tonight. Under no circumstances would he allow a lapse in judgment to thwart his chance for his racing stable. A bit of an about-face right now might be in order. Less time alone together for a start.
Smiling down at her, he motioned to the crowd, who’d set off all at once for the supper tables. “Let me take you back to Mrs. Doyle so we may walk in together. There she is,” he started them toward the chaperone, “at the beginning of the line.”
“No, my lord.” Determination firmed her chin. She raised it and drew a deep breath. “I think we may continue in together after the press of people has thinned. Shall we stand here by the pillar until there is more room?”
“A splendid idea.” So much for not being alone with her. He’d simply have to be more guarded when in her company. He’d not counted on that at all. “This way, my dear.” He slid that little endearment in nonchalantly, but Miss Sharpe noticed. Her cheeks had been cooling down from the sprightly dance. Now they blazed anew with the colors of deeper roses. “May I assist you while we wait?” He plucked her fan from her waist, snapped it open with a practiced hand, and commenced to fanning her. “I think you may have overexerted yourself in the reel, Miss Sharpe. You danced so quickly I believe I could not follow you quite half the time.” He allowed his gaze to rest on her bodice. “Such lovely form.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Suddenly, she couldn’t find a place to look. Fumbling with her reticule, she cast her gaze down and kept it there. “You are very kind.”
Ah, good. The indomitable spirit of Miss Sharpe could be cowed. He simply needed to feed it too well and perhaps she would choke on it. “Shall we go in now?”
She nodded and slipped her arm through his.
Such a lovely little thing. He squeezed her arm, drawing her a bit closer to him. Almost as though he were protecting her. She needed protection. That was obvious, at least to him.
There he went again. With a mental note to keep his mind on his business, he led them forward. Devil it, he must focus his attention on what mattered most—winning the wager with his father and securing his racing stable. Time was running out, and if he didn’t successfully ensnare Miss Sharpe, it would be too late to find another lady with a heart ready to break. This young woman suited his purposes perfectly. All he needed to do was concentrate.
Chapter 4
“Do you not think Lord Somersby the most handsome of gentlemen, Mrs. Doyle?” Amanda relaxed against the soft leather seat of her chaperone’s barouche, tired but supremely happy.
The evening had truly been magical. Lord Somersby had attended to her every need at the supper and even though they could not dance together afterward, he’d managed to strike up a conversation with Mrs. Doyle—about sea bathing, of all things—so she’d been able to talk to him for some minutes as they chatted about methods of dipping and whether the briskness of the water made one healthier.
“I agree he is a pleasant gentleman, with a favorable countenance.” Mrs. Doyle stretched her slippered feet and sighed. “But the old adage still applies. ‘Handsome is as handsome does.’”
“Well, I think he does splendidly.” The more she remembered their conversations and his little attentions to her during the evening, the more highly she thought of Lord Somersby.
“Yes, but Amanda, you have only met the gentleman this one time. He may improve on further meeting, but he also may not.”
Why must Mrs. Doyle speak of nothing but caution? “Even if he does not improve, his manner is excellent just as it is.”
“I wish I had more information about him and his family. He did not seem very forthcoming when I asked after them.” Mrs. Doyle’s voice in the dark carriage held a note of pique.
“Could you not have asked Lady Hamilton about Lord Somersby? Or one of your other acquaintances?” Surely someone at the ball tonight could have provided the answers her sponsor sought.
“I’m sure I tried, Amanda, but whenever I approached Lady Hamilton, she inevitably was called away to deal with some crisis or the other. A hostess is never at ease until her entertainment is over. You will discover this on Monday at our little party.” The carriage turned the corner, throwing a stray beam of moonlight across the lady’s face, revealing a determination Amanda had not heretofore seen. “What she did manage to tell me made my heart sink.”
“What?” Oh, this boded ill for her. “Why? What did she tell you?”
“That Lord Somersby is the son and heir of the Marquess of Thaxted.”
“A marquess!” Amanda bounded up on her seat. “I had no idea he was so well connected.”
Mrs. Doyle grasped her head. “Please, Amanda, you must learn to control yourself.”
“But a marquess.” Never had she ever met anyone with a title before she’d come to London. And now she had danced and eaten supper with the son of a marquess. Could she dare to dream of more? For a brief moment she envisioned a wedding, Lord Somersby smiling down at her, people addressing her as Lady Somersby…one day to be Lady Thaxted. A fairy tale come true indeed. “Why would his being the son of a marquess upset you? It would be the most brilliant of matches for me, wouldn’t it?”
“Because I remember Lord Thaxted from my own come out. A more unpleasant man you would not wish to find.” She pursed her lips. “The first time I danced with him my hands felt dirty afterward, even though I, of course, wore gloves.”
“But his son—”
“I will say his son seems to be cut from a different cloth, although how that may have happened I have no idea. Perhaps his mother’s influence has kept him from Thaxted’s unfortunate behavior.” Shifting in her seat, Mrs. Doyle seemed uncomfortable.
“What did he do?” Amanda leaned forward, holding her breath.
“He was a rake of the highest order. Ruined more than one woman, both unmarried and married. Wagered wildly on all manner of things. And drank as though he couldn’t get enough.” Her chaperone shook her head. “I’m quite frankly amazed he’s lasted as long as he has.”
Shaken, Amanda leaned back against the seat, a sudden chill sweeping down her arms. “Does that make his son ineligible to court me if he wishes?”
“No.” Despite the denial, Mrs. Doyle’s voice cast doubt on her answer. “Lord Somersby should not be judged by the sins of his father. However, I believe we will call upon my good friend Lady Ivor tomorrow. If anyone knows anything about Lord Somersby, she will. I tried to find her tonight, but there was such a crush I kept missing her. Her daughter Celinda came out last Season and is back this year.”
“Oh, yes, I was introduced to her by Lady Hamilton. A very sweet and lively girl.” She’d liked Lady Celinda from their brief acquaintance and hoped to become better friends with her.
“I am glad to hear that. Perhaps she knows of Lord Somersby as well.”
The carriage stopped in front of the townhouse Mrs. Doyle had taken for them for the Season. The footman riding behind jumped down, opened the door, and assisted them out of the carriage.
“I do wish your cousin Mr. Weeks were here.” As they started up the steps to the elegant townhome, Mrs. Doyle patted her shoulder. “I am so sorry for your loss, my dear. He would have been helpful in watching over you, to make certain no unsavory gentleman tried to make your acquaintance.”
“If Kit were here, Mrs. Doyle, I fear I would not be. He would have inherited our grandfather’s fortune, not I.” Her cousin Christopher Weeks had disappeared while on a trip to France last summer. According to the solicitor who’d contacted her about the inheritance, their grandfather had paid vast sums to search for her cousin up until her grandfather’s own death, but no trace of him had ever been found. She’d
mourned both men and sworn she would make the most of the opportunity granted her by the grace of God, despite her mother’s wishes.
“Surely he would have seen to you. Provided for your come out?”
“I have no expectation that he would. We were acquainted, but not close. I hadn’t seen him in years. As I told you, I had little knowledge of that side of my family until my grandfather died. I do not even think he’d been aware of my mother’s death until he contacted us when he began to look for Kit.” Such a sad turn of events that had brought her to this moment in her life. “But I do have the means now to better my life, and I intend to do so.” And if that betterment included the son of a marquess, she would be the last one to complain.
“Very well.” The butler took their wraps, and Mrs. Doyle mounted the stairs. “I shall be down early in the morning. We must begin to make the final preparations for Monday before we call on Lady Ivor.”
“I will breakfast early as well so I can help you with all the little details.” Following her chaperone up the stairs, Amanda smiled to herself. This would be a party she would not soon forget.
* * * *
“I was so sorry to have missed you last evening, Anna.” Mrs. Doyle chatted as Lady Ivor poured tea into pretty china cups decorated with a spray of pink flowers with gilt edges. “It has been too long since we have met.”
Amanda and Mrs. Doyle had arrived at the earliest possible time for callers in hopes of finding the ladies at home alone. They had succeeded, and now the older ladies had settled on the sofa while Amanda and Lady Celinda carried their teacups to a chaise beneath the bay window that faced the street.
“Did you enjoy yourself last evening, Miss Sharpe?” Lady Celinda sipped her tea and wrinkled her nose. “I see Mama is using her newest blend of tea. I believe she has combined the Bohea with one of the green teas. Not to my taste at all. But she is a great one for experimentation.”
Sipping tentatively, Amanda attempted to distinguish the two varieties Lady Celinda mentioned, but it simply tasted like tea. She set the cup down and smiled. “Yes, I did enjoy myself immensely. Although everything is so new to me, I was quite overwhelmed at times. So many new faces.”
Lady Celinda gave her a sideways glance. “I did notice you spent quite some time with Lord Somersby. You danced with him twice, I believe.”
“Yes, I did.” The unusual tone of the young lady’s voice made Amanda’s ears perk up. Did she sense a rival for Lord Somersby here?
“The second was the supper dance, I believe? I recall seeing you seated next to him.”
“He was the first gentleman to ask for it.” Amanda picked up her cup again and sipped a mouthful to mask her growing perturbation. In a contest between herself and Lady Celinda for a man’s affections, she feared she would not fare well at all. At least, not if she played by society’s rules.
“Then you were right to accept him.” Celinda sighed. “To have turned him down would have meant you could not dance the rest of the evening. And that would have been a shame indeed.” The lady nodded approvingly, which confused Amanda even more. “However, if you can avoid Lord Somersby in the future, you will likely be much better off.”
“Avoid him?” The way this young woman ran hot and cold would drive Amanda mad. “Why should I avoid him?”
“He is not the gentleman for you, my dear.”
Amanda set her cup down with a thud and turned to Lady Celinda. “Is that because you’ve set your cap for him, my lady?”
“For Lord Somersby?” Lady Celinda’s eyes grew wide, her mouth opened, and peals of giggles emerged.
“Celinda?” Her mother’s sharp voice carried over top of her daughter’s outburst. “Please control yourself. Such loud displays are quite vulgar.”
Hand before her mouth, Lady Celinda tried to smother her glee, but the laugher continued.
“Why is that funny?” Fearing she was being made fun of, Amanda frowned at the girl.
“Because Lord Somersby is the very last gentleman in the ton I should affect.” Lady Celinda produced a handkerchief and wiped her streaming eyes.
“Oh.” Amanda sat back, quite at a loss.
“And you should say the same thing, Miss Sharpe.” Laughter now subsided, Lady Celinda turned an earnest gaze on her. “Lord Somersby is not a nice gentleman at all.”
“What on earth would make you say such a thing, my lady? He was nothing but kindness to me last evening.” Bristles of annoyance sprang up on Amanda’s neck.
“Hmm. Did he compliment you extravagantly? Show you particular favor? Dote on you during supper?”
Startled, Amanda blinked but answered, “Yes. How did you know that?”
“Because he’s done it before. To a friend of mine last Christmas.” Lady Celinda clenched her hands. “That turned out to be part of a wager, so I suspect he’s taken another and is toying with you for his own ends. The man is a scoundrel through and through. I pity the woman he finally marries.”
Stricken, Amanda continued to stare at Lady Celinda. “We are obviously speaking of different gentlemen.”
“Oh, he’s the same one, I assure you. My friend Jenny had a very close call. Lord Somersby had apparently made a wager with his father that he could marry Jenny before the year was out or some such thing. We were all at a house party in Somerset, so he had plenty of opportunities to court her, which he did.” Lady Celinda shook her head. “And against my advice, Jenny began to favor him quite a lot.”
“However, Lord Somersby is still unmarried, so I assume she rejected him in the end.”
“Not exactly.” A satisfied smile spread over Lady Celinda’s face. “Unbeknownst to Jenny, her neighbor, Mr. Alexander Isley, had been invited to the party. There was something of an arranged marriage between them, but neither of them wanted it. In any case, Alec uncovered the wager and was able to save Jenny before Somersby could compromise her in front of all the company.”
“He planned to compromise her?” Amanda stomach gave a lurch. Never could she have imagined Lord Somersby capable of such a deed. Perhaps this Jenny had agreed to the scheme, had wanted to marry him.
Lady Celinda sipped her tea. “The wager was for him to marry her. Compromising her would have done the trick. She’d have had to marry him or be ruined.”
“What happened to her?” Had the young lady been heartbroken?
“She and Alec wed in January, and in her latest letter to me she hinted that she’s increasing.” Smiles wreathed Lady Celinda’s face.
Apparently not the heartbroken miss after all. The story had made her even more confused, trying to reconcile the scoundrel in the story with the perfect gentleman she’d met last night.
“If you have escaped Lord Somersby’s machinations without any more hurt than the beginnings of a tendre, you may count yourself lucky, Miss Sharpe.” Lady Celinda patted her hand. “There are far better gentlemen available this Season. Just last night I was introduced to Lord Finley, a very fine gentleman who I hope to become much better acquainted with.”
“And if someone told you today that you should not allow him to court you, would you simply give up your interest in him?” The arch tone of her voice was unbecoming, but Amanda did not care. She had tired of all the advice concerning Lord Somersby.
“If there was incontrovertible proof of his bad character, I suppose I would cease to be interested in him.” The doubt in her voice, however, said Lady Celinda might not heed that good advice either. “Papa has decided to be rather difficult about him, although I have heard no one in the ton say a word against him. Unlike Lord Somersby, whose bad deeds have been witnessed by numerous people.”
“Perhaps they have.” The evidence seemed overwhelming that the man was a scoundrel. “However, you do not take into consideration that a gentleman can change his nature if he has great enough cause to do so.” And, suddenly, she intended to be that cause. She’d not stand by and let her chance at happiness slip through her fingers because of what others said or thought about him. The man
she’d met last night deserved the chance to prove them wrong. “I feel I must, out of Christian charity, give Lord Somersby the benefit of the doubt until I know otherwise.”
Lady Celinda’s face grew grave. “I pray you are not making a serious mistake, Miss Sharpe. I would hate for you to discover, once it is too late, that this gentleman cannot be altered, no matter the cause.”
“Surely you have heard that gentlemen such as he make the best of husbands once they have reformed their wicked ways.” Amanda squeezed her hands together.
Speaking the word “husband” in reference to Lord Somersby sent a thrill down her back. Could she indeed induce him to propose to her? Many might think her decision rash, having such a short acquaintance with the gentleman; however, her instincts told her this course of action was right in every way. It might be brash by ton standards, but not by the ones she’d grown up with in Wellesbourne. Oh, but she could not wait to plan a strategy that would transform Lord Somersby’s bad reputation into that of the model husband, just for her.
“But I will never know if it is possible unless I take the risk of continuing his company.” Amanda grasped Lady Celinda’s hands and stared into her eyes. “Perhaps there is something there worth taking that risk for.”
Her friend stared back and after a moment’s pause said, “Until last night, I would not have agreed with you. However, after meeting Lord Finley, I believe I do.” Lady Celinda peered at her. “You have an exceptional manner about you, Miss Sharpe. I commend you on your boldness. Such spirit is rarely seen in young ladies of the ton. Except for me, of course. Which is why, I suspect, I am not at this instant married to the perfect man.” She frowned. “Although I do believe I may indeed have found him at last.”
“Then let us continue to believe in the good in both these gentlemen and further our acquaintance with them.” Amanda squeezed Lady Celinda’s hands. “Please do call me Amanda.”