by Alyssa Drake
“What are you daydreaming about?” Wilhelmina’s quiet voice echoed in the carriage.
“Hunting,” replied Sam.
Wilhelmina grimaced. “I wish you would focus your imagination on more ladylike activities.”
“I am wearing a dress in my mind.”
“Well, I suppose that is a start,” sighed Wilhelmina. The carriage slowed. Wilhelmina, smoothed out her bodice, pasting a smile on her face and tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve. “We are nearly there.”
Sam pressed her face against the window. As the Allendale residence came into view, Sam’s breath caught in her throat. The sound caused Wilhelmina to lean forward and peer around Sam.
Candlelight from over one hundred lanterns flickered on the ivy-covered columns, casting a magical glow over the house. Each footman, dressed in plum and gold, bowed as the guests passed. Illuminated by the lanterns, their jacket buttons winked like fireflies.
Stepping from the carriage, Wilhelmina led Sam toward the entrance. Pausing to inhale the scent of jasmine as it drifted over the veranda, Sam lifted her head and gazed dreamily at the sky, remembering how much she loved the nighttime at the country estate, the inky night decorated with bright stars which glittered like diamonds.
A light breeze tickled her skin, pulling her from her reverie and sending chills sliding down her arms. She tugged her wrap tightly around her shoulders and returned her attention to the beautiful house. Lifting her skirt, Sam followed Wilhelmina up the stone steps. They were greeted at the top of the stairs by a footman who led them into the deserted hallway.
Six candelabras lit the corridor, casting enchanting shadows on the wall. Leading them down the hallway, the footman delivered them at the doorway of the ballroom, passed a small white card to the butler standing just inside the room, and vanished with a subtle bow.
They were announced, “Mrs. and Miss Hastings” as they entered the crowded ballroom.
“Everyone will think I am your daughter,” Sam giggled, acutely aware of the sharp eyes judging her and the emerald gown.
“Stop laughing,” Wilhelmina hissed under her breath. “Everyone will think you are impolite.”
“I giggle when I am nervous.” Sam hiccupped, a gloved hand pressed hard over her mouth.
“Please try to behave yourself,” Wilhelmina hissed again, discreetly yanking Sam’s hand from her lips.
“Yes, Wilhelmina,” replied Sam. The faint sound of whispers accompanied Wilhelmina’s castigation. Sam twisted to her right, her eyes narrowing as they fell on a trio of gossiping women. Glaring, Sam shot them a scattering look.
“We should greet our host.” Wilhelmina nudged Sam forward, steering her along the sideline of the dance floor toward Mrs. Allendale. Low murmurs followed their progress.
“Mrs. Allendale, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Wilhelmina smiled with genuine warmth and greeted the woman with a friendly embrace.
“Mrs. Hastings, I am so pleased you could attend.” Her eyes widened as they inspected Wilhelmina’s dress. “That is a beautiful color you are wearing this evening.”
Wilhelmina blushed and glanced down, flattening the skirt with her palms. “Thank you. I thought it might be time to purchase some new hues.”
“I quite agree.” With a final nod of approval, Mrs. Allendale gestured to the woman standing beside her. “I am certain you have already been introduced to Lady Westwood.”
“I have.” Wilhelmina curtsied. “Lady Westwood, it is a pleasure to see you again. I am looking forward to attending your birthday party next week. Miss Hastings and I were delighted to receive an invitation.”
Another dreary party—Sam swallowed a groan. Eyeing the balcony ruefully, she plotted her escape from the ballroom. She imagined herself climbing over the railing, straddling the white decorative barrier as she struggled to fling her leg over the side. Her dress would cause some difficulty, but if she hiked the hem up to her thigh, it would be less restrictive although a bit scandalous. However, no one would notice her in the darkness of the balcony. Once over the railing, she could grip the thick ivy and slide down before her absence was noticed by Wilhelmina.
Sam slid one foot to the side, slowly angling her body toward the balcony. Furtively inching out of the circle in this sly manner, Sam envisioned running across the cobblestones of the Allendale’s long drive, her emerald skirt flying behind her. A vise-like grip swiftly grabbed her arm, destroying her fantasy. Sam glanced sideways at Wilhelmina, who shook her head slightly, left to right.
“Stay,” Wilhelmina mouthed the word as her fingers dug into the fleshy part of Sam’s elbow. “Lady Westwood, Mrs. Allendale, I would like to present Miss Hastings, my late husband’s sister.”
“Lady Westwood, Mrs. Allendale, it is lovely to meet both of you,” Sam murmured politely, adding a slight curtsey as she spoke to each woman.
“Miss Hastings.” Lady Westwood took Sam’s hand in hers. “I was sorry to hear of your loss. Your brother was truly an exceptional man.”
“You knew Edward?” Sam could not keep the shock from her voice. Edward rarely spoke of his acquaintances during his visits to the country estate. She assumed he never spent time in society.
“Why, yes.” Lady Westwood seemed surprised by Sam’s confusion. “Your brother and my son, Benjamin, were close friends. They spent many hours at my house.”
“I have heard the name before,” replied Sam, reaching into the recesses of her mind to pull out a memory of Benjamin, Lord of Westwood. A sense of dread coursed through her body. Why did the name invoke such a response?
“You should be introduced to him,” continued Lady Westwood. Sam swore she caught Lady Westwood winking at Wilhelmina.
“You could waltz with him,” said Wilhelmina, a bright tone in her suggestion. “There is plenty of room on your dance card.”
“Even I know it is inappropriate for a lady to ask a man to dance,” replied Sam, her head bobbing between Wilhelmina and Lady Westwood. She felt as though she missed an important portion of the conversation.
“Benjamin is not concerned with such frivolity as proper social etiquette.” Lady Westwood shook her head, a faint glow of pride emanated from her statement.
“The stance often lands him in the headlines of the societal pages.” Mrs. Allendale sipped from her glass, covering her improper snicker with a demure swallow.
Sam’s jaw dropped. That is where she saw the name! Lady Westwood’s son was in the paper that very morning. Words from the headline floated around her head as she tried to recall the article. A gentleman rake…
“He is a cad.” Sam’s hand flew to her mouth the moment the word left it. Mortified, she glanced at Wilhelmina who stared back at her with a scandalized gaze of disappointment. The grip on Sam’s arm tightened, cutting off the circulation to her fingers.
“Samantha!” Wilhelmina’s voice shook.
“I am sorry. Lady Westwood, please forgive me, that was a dreadful thing to say, and I am certain not a true reflection of your son’s character. I was recalling something I read earlier today.” Sam flushed in horror, wishing to disappear.
Lady Westwood waved her hand airily. “Apology accepted. I have heard much worse things about my son, and I do believe him and his brother…”—she gestured to an attractive man who whirled past them, agony flashed over his handsome features—“have been labeled with that moniker for some time now. Though if memory serves, your brother held that title for some time as well.” She grinned merrily at Sam.
“You married a rake,” cried Sam, turning toward Wilhelmina.
“A reformed rake. There is a distinction.” Wilhelmina emphasized her correction with a wink.
“Why did I not hear of this before?” Sam demanded, stretching her frame to her full height.
“Because Edward tucked you safely in the country to prevent you from meeting people like him,” replied Wilhelmina.
“And to keep me from learning of his reputation,” muttered Sam indignantly, folding her arms over
her body. All three ladies burst out laughing.
“I am certain it was as much for your protection as it was for his,” reassured Lady Westwood, patting Sam’s hand.
“I very much doubt that,” Sam grumbled, earning a small pinch from Wilhelmina for the churlish reply.
“Your brother was extremely protective of his personal life, Miss Hastings. He seldom spoke about you to anyone outside the family.” Mrs. Allendale leaned into the circle and whispered, her eyes flicking toward the eavesdropping couples surrounding their small group, “No one knew he had a sister.”
“Mother.” The aforementioned brother drawled as he approached them, having deposited Miss Leveret on the far side of the room at the end of the song. His brown eyes winced with each step.
“Thomas.” Lady Westwood held out her hands, welcoming him to the circle. “May I present Mrs. and Miss Hastings?” She indicated Wilhelmina and Sam with a graceful, flowing gesture. “Ladies, I would like you to introduce you to my son, Mr. Reid.”
“Miss Hastings, a pleasure.” Mr. Reid murmured and pressed his lips lightly on the back of Sam’s glove. “Mrs. Allendale and Mrs. Hastings.” He nodded formally to each woman, accepting each of their hands in turn. “Each of you looks exquisite tonight.”
“Did you enjoy your turn with Miss Leveret?” Lady Westwood teased, her eyes shining.
“No.”
“Neither lady?” Lady Westwood’s mouth twitched.
“They both managed to step on my boots fifty times apiece.”
“Goodness.” Mrs. Allendale struggled to keep from dissolving into giggles. “Fifty times apiece, were you counting?”
“Yes,” nodded Mr. Reid. His curt tone held no trace of humor. “I was.” He bowed, attempting to flee. However, his mother’s hand quickly latched onto his sleeve.
“Thomas, I was hoping you would dance with Miss Hastings before you fill yourself with whatever fine drink Mr. Allendale is offering in the salon.”
“I would be delighted,” Mr. Reid replied through gritted teeth, looking anything but delighted by the delay.
Sam declined with a polite curtsy. “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Reid, however, I much prefer to remain on the fringes.”
Mr. Reid’s eyes flicked over Sam, studying her with interest. “All ladies enjoy a turn on the arm of a debonair gentleman.”
“I am not one of those ladies, Mr. Reid.”
Mr. Reid leaned in whispering, his voice laced with humor, “I implore you, Miss Hastings. My mother will nag me to no end if you refuse.”
“If only to save you from rebuke, Mr. Reid, I will accompany you. However, I am agreeing under protest.”
“Noted.” He offered her his arm with exaggerated politeness.
Sam placed her hand on his elbow and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. They danced in silence for several moments, avoiding each other’s eyes, pretending to listen intently to the orchestra. Mr. Reid’s face screwed up in concentration.
“Mr. Reid, are you ill?” asked Sam, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Pardon me?”
“Are you ill?” she repeated.
“No. I am merely waiting for you to tread on my injured feet.”
“I may be out of practice, but I have been told I am an excellent dancer.”
“By whom?” Mr. Reid eyed her with a skeptical expression on his face.
“My niece,” replied Sam.
“Your niece?”
“Yes, Miss Marie Hastings.”
“I do not recognize the name.” Mr. Reid spun Sam in a small circle and bowed once, keeping time to the music. “Has Miss Hastings been introduced into society?”
“Heavens no,” Sam laughed. “She is only six years old.”
“And how did Miss Hastings become such an expert in ballroom dancing?” Mr. Reid murmured against Sam’s ear as she passed under his arm.
“I taught her.”
Mr. Reid threw his head back and laughed, his voice carried across the floor. “I dare say, this is the most enjoyable dance I have had this evening, Miss Hastings.”
“Considering your multiple partners, that is quite a compliment, Mr. Reid.”
He arched his eyebrow at Sam’s borderline inappropriate comment and leaned in, lowering his voice, “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes,” she drew out the word in a wary tone.
“How are you related to the Hastings family?” He nodded in Wilhelmina’s direction. “I have known Mr. Hastings for many years, and I would never forget a face as lovely as yours.
Swallowing, Sam looked away briefly. “Edward was my brother.”
“Little Sam Hastings.” Mr. Reid stared at her disbelievingly. “But you are a girl.”
“Well, yes. Sam is a family name.” Confused, Sam glanced at Wilhelmina, who smiled, waved and turned back to her conversation with a man who suspiciously resembled her current dance partner, albeit less shocked than his twin.
“Please, excuse my bewilderment,” explained Mr. Reid. “Whenever your brother spoke of you, he always referred to you as little Sam. Little Sam lived in the country, little Sam excelled under private tutors, little Sam turned a profit with the land surrounding Hastings Manor. I just assumed you were his younger brother.”
“I believe Edward purposely misled you, Mr. Reid.” Sam’s throat constricted around her brother’s name, garbling the final words of her statement.
“He spoke very highly of your fencing skills,” Mr. Reid complimented Sam, drawing her from her melancholy thoughts.
Sam snorted, crooking her mouth into a half-smile. “Edward did enjoy teaching me the most inappropriate things. My governess used to badger him incessantly about his improper guidance.”
“Did he spend a lot of time with you?”
“Not as much as I would have liked.” She curtsied and passed under Mr. Reid’s arm again. He spun her in a demi-circle, moving them in the same direction as the other dancers. “Edward left for school when I was still quite young. I only saw him over the holidays.”
“What other unsuitable things did he teach you?” asked Mr. Reid, humor lit his chocolate eyes. He wiggled his eyebrows.
Sam laughed, unable to resist his mischievous nature. “I have an extensive, indecent vocabulary.”
“That must cause some awkward situations.” Mr. Reid bowed, spinning Sam outward like a top. She stopped in front of the man from the couple next to them, rotated in a half-circle, and curtsied to Mr. Reid.
“It has on several occasions,” admitted Sam as she stepped forward, joining hands with Mr. Reid again. “Wilhelmina–Mrs. Hastings–nearly had my head the last time.”
“Would this be the luncheon incident?”
Sam’s mouth popped open in shock, her stomach twisted into knots. “How do you know of that?”
“My dear, Miss Hastings.” Mr. Reid stretched his arms out, gesturing wide. “Everyone knows what happened at the luncheon.”
“Everyone?” she squeaked, glancing self-consciously to her right and left. A faint blush crawled up Sam’s skin.
“Ignore them.”
“That is not as easy as you would expect.”
“I do it all the time.” Thomas grinned, leaning forward to whisper. “You should hear what they say about me.”
“Is it true?”
“Most of it.” He winked. “Come, Miss Hastings. I would like to introduce you to someone.”
“Who?”
“Benjamin,” Mr. Reid stated. He grasped her arm and dragged her across the floor as the final notes of the song faded into applause.
“Your brother?” asked Sam, rushing to keep pace with Mr. Reid’s long legs.
“Yes,” answered Mr. Reid, expertly threading them through couples. “I think it is time the two of you were reacquainted.” They headed directly toward Wilhelmina and her conversation partner, Mr. Reid nearly yanking Sam’s arm out of the socket in his delight.
“I have never met Lord Westwood.”
&
nbsp; “You have. However, at the time of your introduction, he would have been Mr. Benjamin Reid.” Mr. Reid glanced at her over his shoulder. “Benjamin was titled when he turned eighteen.”
Bloody hell.
A jolt shot through Sam at the memory of the name. Benjamin, Mr. Reid–Edward’s best friend–was definitely not someone she ever intended on conversing with at one of these ridiculous societal functions. Her childhood came rushing back like a flood. With each step, she prayed the ground would open and swallow her whole before she reached him and Wilhelmina.
I will not faint, she repeated over and over in her head, a mantra which increased with urgency as Mr. Reid drew her closer to the sideline. She debated ripping her arm from Mr. Reid’s grip and escaping into the hallway. Sam took several deep breaths to calm the blood pumping harshly through her veins. However, the lack of interest on Lord Westwood’s face encouraged her spirits.
Was it possible he did not remember Edward’s little sister?
Wilhelmina smiled at their slow approach, causing Lord Westwood to glance up in her direction. His startling green eyes bore into her eyes, creating an even deeper blush. Sam feared Mr. Reid would feel the heat radiating off her skin. The blush traveled from her cheeks to the back of her neck, warming the tips of her toes and pooling in her stomach like molten lava. When they reached Wilhelmina’s side, Sam hesitated nervously, watching Lord Westwood’s lips, waiting for him to speak. When he finally spoke, his words rolled over Sam like thunder. She feared she might melt through the floor.
“Little Samantha Hastings,” he drawled in a deep voice, his brilliant eyes gleaming fiercely. “You are all grown up.”
Damn.
Chapter Four
Fifteen minutes prior…
Benjamin argued with himself a full five minutes in the darkened hallway, pacing between the music of the ballroom and the raucous laughter emanating from the salon. He paused just outside the doorway of the salon, debating which location would be most suitable to await his requested dance with Miss Shirely. Only a coward would imbibe beyond reason before dancing with his future wife. No one would dare call Lord Westwood a coward. A rake, definitely. He smirked, thinking of the newspaper article. He had even heard the word ‘scoundrel’ a couple of times.