Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  Hannah hurried across the room to meet them, clasping both of Mattie’s hands in hers. “It’s December already, can you believe it? I feel as if we’ve been friends for years.” She blushed. “Well, months anyway.”

  Her gaze moved away from his sister and her golden-brown eyes held his. The attraction he tried to pretend was nonexistent hit him again full force. “Miss Pendleton, it is a pleasure to see you again,” he greeted with a bow over his hand. The scent of apricot settled on him as he kissed her gloved knuckles, his lips lingering as the warmth bombarded his innards.

  Fiend seize it! Those full lips, curling up into such a smile, had made him daring. Each event, each house party seemed to increase his reaction to her.

  Her evening dress of Pomona green, with deep-gold ribbons that matched the honey streaks in her hair, hugged her curves as she moved into a slight curtsy. “My lord.”

  Lady Roberta descended upon them. “Welcome. We have a delicious menu planned, and I’ve selected some entertaining parlor games for later.” She held out her hand to Nicholas with an impish grin and said, “Please don’t be uncomfortable because of my past indiscretions. I promise to keep my hands to myself. I’m quite the matron these days.”

  That created a round of guffaws. It put Darby at ease, and he responded good-naturedly, “I somehow doubt that term will ever apply to you, my lady.”

  After two glasses of claret and Lady Roberta’s lively regale of her adventures in the West Indies, they entered the dining room. Since the party was not large, a smaller table had been set up for a more intimate meal. He found himself next to Miss Pendleton with his sister seated across from them. He poured wine for both of them while he deliberated on the next topic of conversation.

  “Are you enjoying London, Miss Pendleton, or are you missing the country?” He turned to give her his full attention, ignoring the glare from her brother. Dash it all, he was only conversing with her. And the devil, how the wine had gone to his head.

  “I am enjoying myself immensely. There is so much to see, so many family names I’ve heard of that I am able to put a face to.”

  Her hand touched his forearm and he almost laid his own palm on top without thinking. The candlelight reflected chips of gold in her eyes as she spoke, and he found himself praying no one else would speak to him. He couldn’t pull his gaze from her. “Where have you been since we last met? Who have you met?”

  As she spoke, he studied her face. The flawless ivory skin, the pert nose with a dash of freckles across the top, the glorious brown waves, and the hollow at her throat that begged for a kiss.

  “Lord Darby? Did you say you knew them? Lord Falsen and his wife?” Miss Pendleton waved a hand in front of his face and gave him an odd look.

  Bollocks! He was acting like a green boy! “Uh, yes. Yes, we’ve been introduced and move in the same circles. Did you receive an invitation from them? Their affairs are usually such a crush.”

  “Oh, my. I have no desire to be packed into a room like sheep in a shearing pen. Goodness, I would be ready to head back to Pendleton Place, then.”

  “I have some excellent news. Mama has secured three vouchers to Almack’s for this Wednesday next,” announced Mattie. “We may each bring a guest so we shall all go together.”

  Mattie’s cheeks were pink from the unaccustomed wine, and the fact she’d just put all attention on her. She hated being in the center of anything, but here she was prattling on. It warmed his heart and he had an idea who was responsible for this sudden buoyancy.

  His gaze again wandered to Miss Pendleton, his sister’s words a pleasant hum. She was a good companion for Mattie. He’d engaged her in several conversations and enjoyed her company. He was surprised Stanfeld had not noticed how she’d blossomed into such a beauty. Well read but not opinionated, kind but witty with a good humor, and optimistic but practical.

  If he’d been in the market for a wife, he’d have considered her. But he wasn’t and needed to get his desire under control. Miss Hannah Pendleton was young and innocent, and despite his attraction to her, he needed to remain detached.

  “Oh, no. My mother said we shall come round and pick you up in the town coach. I must say, I was dreading an evening at Almack’s, but now I can barely contain myself.” Mattie’s blue eyes shone with excitement. He couldn’t remember the last time she had seemed so animated outside their home. “With my two good friends beside me, it should be a splendid evening.”

  “Who else is accompanying us?” asked Lady Roberta. “You said she’d received three vouchers. A friend of Lady Darby?”

  “Oh, my brother. Mama said it would be good for him to reintroduce himself to quality ladies instead…” Her eyes went wide with horror as she looked at her brother. “I didn’t mean, er, I meant—”

  “It’s quite all right, Mattie.” He turned to Lady Roberta, unable to meet Hannah’s eyes. “I have been a lonely widower for the past five years and have not stepped foot near Almack’s. It is where I met my wife, you see.” He hoped this didn’t quiet Matilda. She’d been so vivacious.

  Miss Pendleton’s hand touched his arm and like an unseen force, his eyes were pulled to her face. Those pools of amber and brown held such emotion. But not pity, thank God. He hated pity. He saw a gentle, enveloping compassion in her expression that made him want to bury his face in her neck and feel her hands stroke his head. Egads! The liquor was making a buffoon out of him.

  “Then isn’t it opportune that we can all go together?” she asked softly, sending a quick smile to Mattie. “You won’t have to cross that bridge alone. Things are so much easier with friends, are they not?” And she squeezed his arm.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he mumbled, staring at the long slender fingers on his sleeve.

  “What is our first game of the evening, Aunt Bertie?” asked Pendleton, patting his stomach. “Please don’t make it anything too difficult. Between the excellent meal and the brandy I’m about to share with Darby, I won’t be a quick study.”

  “We’ll retire and get the games ready,” said Miss Pendleton, rising. “We will see you gentlemen soon.”

  The ladies retreated and Pendleton rose to pour the brandy. “You seem attentive to my sister.”

  “She’s a lovely woman.” Nicholas wanted to turn this subject quickly. “I’m sure she’ll find a suitable match before the season is out.”

  “Yes, I hope so. I realize she’s your sort, er, physically. I’ve seen several of your mistresses.” He handed Darby a glass. “But you have promised to protect her.

  With a chuckle, he sipped the brandy. “Even if it’s from myself. Yes, I understand, my friend. I’ll not let her charms overwhelm me.”

  * * *

  “Behold the wooden plate,” announced Lady Roberta to the small group assembled in the drawing room. “Typically, we would Twirl the Trencher on the floor, and the spinner would call out a name and that person would catch the plate before it stopped spinning.”

  “Yes, Aunt Bertie,” said Pendleton. “We all know how to play.”

  “I have added a twist to the game,” she said with an impish grin, holding the plate up and spinning it on the tip of her forefinger. “You must spin the plate like so.” She demonstrated again, her agility impressive as she balanced the platter in motion. “And keep it spinning while you call out someone’s name. They must collect the plate and keep it spinning as you transfer it from one hand to the next. If the plate falls, they both forfeit.”

  “What a clever turnabout,” exclaimed Hannah. “Who begins and what do we forfeit?”

  “A secret or a shilling because I have plenty of both.” Lady Roberta clapped her hands. “The plate must never touch the floor but you can touch it to keep it from falling or to keep it spinning. But once you call the name, it must spin on its own.”

  “I’ll begin.” Pendleton stood in the center of the group and held the plate up. It took him several attempts, holding his finger at different angles before he called, “Hannah!”

  She dashe
d forward and placed her finger under the plate just as it began to wobble. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it twirling again as her brother stepped back. Her giggles were contagious as she tried to keep the plate moving, and soon they were all laughing. When the wooden disc hit the floor, Miss Pendleton gave a little squeal.

  “Oh, my. A shilling or secret?” Her finger pushed against her bottom lip as her foot tapped the carpet. “I shall share a secret. I am afraid of the dark.”

  “Really?” asked Mattie. “What do you do at night? Have your lady’s maid sleep with you? You can’t keep a candle burning all night long.”

  Miss Pendleton laughed. “Oh, goodness no. I hate the pitch black. I leave the shades open at night so the moonlight gives me some relief. If it’s an especially dark night, I don’t bank the coals, and the glow from the embers are enough.”

  Her brother explained, “We found a cave once while exploring our property. I was home from university and Stanfeld had come to visit. Hannah was only, what? Eight years old?”

  She nodded her agreement. “I was teasing Nathaniel, trying to act like an adult and impress Gideon. I snatched the torch and ran into the cave. It had several tunnels. I tripped, the torch fell, and I was in utter darkness. It was horrible.”

  “I could hear her screaming and desperately searched for another stick, anything to make another torch to find her.”

  “What happened?” Mattie asked, her eyes wide. “Did Lord Pendleton save you?”

  “Well, she continued to scream, ‘Something touched me. There’s scratching on the walls!’ I tell you, it put a shiver down my spine.”

  “There was something touching me. Gideon finally made some fire and found me. He pulled the spider from my hair.” Her hands flew to her chignon as if checking to make sure it was truly gone. “Then we saw the walls were covered in bats. Completely covered. I thought I would faint, so Gideon swept me into his arms and carried me to safety.” She sighed as if reliving a wonderful dream.

  Nicholas’s stomach inexplicably tightened at the thought of Gideon acting as the knight saving the damsel in distress. Bollocks! Don’t be a greenboy.

  They played several more games, then Miss Pendleton played the pianoforte for them. Her fingers danced and teased the keys. Her eyes closed as her fingers coaxed a haunting melody from the ivories, a smile curving her rosy mouth. Nicholas longed to be those keys and feel the soft touch of her skin against his. She was exquisite.

  Afterward, Lady Roberta played and tempted the younger members with a country dance.

  “Lady Matilda, may I have this dance?” asked Nathaniel with a bow.

  Mattie curtsied and extended her hand. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  “Miss Pendleton? May I have the honor?” he asked, taking Pendleton’s lead.

  “Certainly,” she agreed and took her place.

  She was graceful and light on her feet, and Nicholas realized how much he’d missed dancing. He was sorry to see the evening end, and he hadn’t been able to say that in a very long time.

  * * *

  On the way home, Mattie laid her head against his shoulder. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  “Yes, I’m surprised to say, I did. Lady Roberta is certainly an engaging hostess.” He kissed the top of her head. “And you?”

  “I shall be very lonely when Hannah leaves. She’s fine as a fivepence, is she not?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I believe she is.”

  “Do you like her then?” Mattie’s tone was nonchalant but he knew better.

  “I do, as the sister of my very good friend, and the very good friend of my favorite sister.” He thought it best to change the subject. “Have you decided what to wear to the masquerade next week? Is Mother taking you shopping?”

  Nicholas watched his sister, prattling on about her costume as any young girl might, entering the marriage mart. The transformation in her the past couple weeks was astonishing. How many times had he tried to bring her out of her shell? How many times had his mother introduced her to other girls, only to find her sitting quietly, head down, avoiding attention of any kind?

  “I hope to meet Lord Pendleton’s wife and daughter one day,” Mattie was saying. “Perhaps this summer we could take a trip to the country? Hannah has extended a formal invitation.”

  “I’m sure we can arrange it,” Nicholas murmured. “Let’s just get through this year first.” His mind had turned to the meeting with Walters later at the Guinea.

  Another social call into St. Giles if his hunch was correct. After that, a bottle of whatever was at hand, anguished promises of revenge to a dead woman, and then blissful numbness. A month of escape, self-blame, cursing conniving women, and drowning in the inequity of Fate. One month out of twelve when he took the time to feel sorry for himself. It had become a ritual that he despised but couldn’t seem to break.

  “Perhaps this year will be better,” Mattie said, squeezing his hand and misinterpreting his silence, “with our new friends and the hectic social whirl Mama is planning.”

  He leaned his head back against the squab. Yes, the dreaded December was upon them. No, sweet sister, he thought, it would not be better. This time of the year would always be a nightmare for him. It would begin the first of December, the day he had proposed to Alice. It would continue each night until the next year. By Twelfth Night, five years ago, the inquiry had been completed; his wife had been declared fragile of mind and could not be held responsible for her actions.

  The husband was thus allowed to retain her dowry and properties. His financial ruin had been resolved, and it was as if his marriage had never happened because no one uttered a word about it again. To his face. Except Mattie. The only person who dared speak of it. The only person who knew of the anguish that annually drowned his soul. The only person who knew he had a heart that was permanently cracked and deformed and loved him anyway. Yes, he would do anything for his sister.

  Chapter Six

  “If once to Almack's you belong,

  Like monarchs, you can do no wrong;

  But banished thence on Wednesday night,

  By Jove you can do nothing right.”

  Henry Luttrell, Advice to Julia

  Almack’s

  First week of December 1819

  The large building on King’s Street was nothing spectacular. A rather stuffy-looking building, in Hannah’s opinion, with the obligatory wrought-iron fence at the street and arched windows on the second story. But inside, Almack’s was just as her mother had described.

  Mattie squeezed her hand as they entered a large rectangular room decorated with gilded columns, and lines of red velvet ropes to designate an area for dancing. Chairs bordered the room, and behind them mirrors covered the walls. A balcony held the musicians, warming up for the first dance set. A dais was set up with chairs for the patronesses to oversee and approve of the guests and happenings. One word from an Almack’s patroness could ruin a debutante’s hopes of a good match. These women also decided the dance partners for the young hopeful females. This was the place to mingle with the most eligible bachelors in Town.

  The room was already filled with men in dark coats, black knee breeches, silk stockings, and the obligatory white cravat. The women added the color to the room. Their gowns sported every fashionable color, solid and print, embellished with bows, embroidery, and beads emphasizing high waists, hems, and cuffs. Under the gas-lit chandeliers, gems glittered at their throats and fingers, in tiaras and hair combs artfully placed within the elaborate curls. Some women wore turbans, and all wore gloves.

  “I see why the magazines call this the seventh heaven of the fashionable world,” said Hannah, trying not to gape at the beau monde turned out for Almack’s first ball of the season.

  Lady Darby led the way in a silk gown of bottle green with an overdress of Apollo gold. Hannah felt like a newborn foal trailing after its mother as they moved in and out of the crowd, following the trembling feather on Lady Darby’s gold turban. Hannah and Ma
ttie walked with linked arms, Aunt Bertie following. When they reached the dais, Lady Cowper, one of Almack’s patronesses, met them.

  “Ah, Lady Darby, so this is your lovely daughter.” Lady Cowper’s shrewd blue eyes took in the ladies. She was a striking woman with dark hair, pink cheeks, and a rosebud mouth. “I’m happy to welcome you, Lady Matilda.”

  “It’s an honor, ma’am,” Mattie said with a slight curtsy. “May I introduce—”

  “Lady Roberta, is that you?” Lady Cowper beamed and hurried down the several steps, her arms outstretched. “Where have you been hiding?”

  Lady Darby looked as though she might have an apoplexy, realizing the patroness was on such good terms with Lady Roberta.

  "You will have to tell me of your latest adventures so I can relay all the information back to William,” the patroness gushed, taking Bertie’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “And may I say this Devonshire brown really sets off your hair. I’m so glad you are not hiding those dark waves in a turban.”

  Lady Darby blanched, touching her own turban, and Hannah bit back a smile at the countess’ pinched mouth.

  “Oh, my dear,” said Aunt Bertie to Lady Cowper, “what a beauty you’ve become. And how is your dear brother? I was so sorry to hear of his troubles.” She flapped a hand at her niece. “Come here, my dear. I’d like you to meet the sister of an old friend of mine. This is Emily, Lady Cowper. This is my niece, Lady Hannah Pendleton, here for her first season in London.”

  “It is a pleasure indeed. We shall see each other often, I hope.” She turned back to Aunt Bertie. “Are you chaperoning, then?”

  “Yes, and looking forward to it.”

  “I will send an invitation for dinner. Now I must be off to oversee the other guests.” Lady Cowper gave them all a smile and moved on. “I’ll send your cards over before the dancing begins.”

  They made their way across the room for a cup of Almack’s infamous horrid lemonade, following Mattie and her mother.