by Alyssa Drake
Labels did not bother him although this morning’s most recent moniker amused Thomas to no end. Benjamin shook his head. He was more interested in the reasoning behind the action, not the title applied by a faceless pack of tittering wolves who enjoyed nothing more than shredding their newest victim. He grimaced.
If he chose to bide his time in the crowded ballroom, he would be able to observe Miss Shirely unobtrusively. Her behavior among societal peers would give insight into her personality and expose any flaws she intentionally hid from potential suitors. It was best he kept a clear head.
Benjamin turned on his heel and strode purposefully into the ballroom. He spied Miss Shirely, shining elegantly and surrounded by a gaggle of admirers. He wondered if she encouraged their attention with false promises. Strange that she was in her third season with no husband. Perhaps no man captured her fancy, he knew of several smitten young men who volleyed for Miss Shirely’s hand last season.
Strolling around the edge of the dance floor, he stopped by the refreshment table, his eyes traveling leisurely over the twirling couples. With a smirk, he noticed Thomas, ever the gentleman, once again rescuing some unfortunate debutant from the fringe. At least this girl managed not to step on Thomas’ feet. Actually, she appeared very graceful, moving with decisiveness, a trait many women in today’s society lacked. Her emerald gown swept along the floor in hypnotizing circles, and Benjamin found himself swaying along in time with the music. His eyes wandered slowly up the dress, drinking in feminine curves and chestnut hair. He waited impatiently for her to spin around, desiring to see the face of such a lovely form. She turned slowly as if hearing his command. Her blues eyes flicked over him and crinkled with delight at Thomas’ murmured comment. Thomas’s deep laugh reverberated over the melodic rhythms, breaking Benjamin’s trance.
Benjamin felt his eyes narrow. Her smile, radiating across the floor, stirred unwarranted jealousy and passion through his veins. Independent of his body, his hands clenched as Thomas leaned in to whisper intimately under the soft chestnut curls, and Benjamin found himself three rather large steps closer to the couple.
“Benjamin.” The trilled greeting interrupted his tangled thoughts. Only one woman in the world possessed the ability to pack so much meaning into a single word.
“Aunt Abigail.” He acknowledged the woman to his left, his gaze furtively followed Thomas and his intriguing dance partner. “It is a pleasure to see you this evening.”
“Do not lie to me, Benjamin. I am too old to listen to untruths,” she clucked in a dignified tone. She studied him silently for a moment. “Am I keeping you from something?”
With an inaudible groan, he spun around completely, tearing his eyes from the dance floor. “Not at all, Aunt Abigail, I was merely enjoying the festivities.”
Abigail grunted and peered around Benjamin’s formidable stature with a curious expression. “Who were you so intently watching?”
“No one in particular,” Benjamin replied in a nonchalant tone, hoping his voice sounded convincing.
“Another lie.” She shook her head, a grey bun bobbing with the slight movement. “Benjamin, I am not one of those naive young women you can deceive with your smooth tongue.”
Benjamin grinned and lifted her hand to his lips, inclining his head in a bow. “At the present, Aunt Abigail, I am solely focused on your radiant beauty.”
Abigail snorted. The discourteous sound caused several people to stare in their direction. Abigail shot a withering glare at them until they twisted away and resumed their conversation.
“If you detest these gatherings so much, why have you attended?” asked Benjamin, his curious question drawing Abigail’s attention.
“My dear boy, I come for the scandals.” Her eyes softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. “You remind me so much of your father.”
“Thank you.”
“He, too, thought his charm would get him anything.” Mischief danced in Abigail’s eyes.
“I know you well enough to understand my charms are wasted upon your stoat character.”
“Quite so.” Abigail’s gaze wandered to the dancers whirling around the floor. “Nor am I easily side-tracked.”
“I was watching Thomas,” Benjamin sighed, revealing the partial truth.
Abigail’s sage eyes narrowed slightly, glancing between Benjamin and his brother. “Were you watching Thomas or his exquisite dance partner?”
Benjamin refused to confirm her suspicions.
“Tell me, nephew.” Her eyes locked on Thomas and his mystery partner. “What brings you to such a tedious party as this? I know you are friends with Mr. Allendale, but I doubt your friendship is strong enough to convince you to subject yourself to such madness.” She gestured at the whispering group off to their left and shot them a second venomous glare.
“I came at Mother’s request.”
“I see.” Abigail raised her head, her gaze flicking over intimate groups until she spotted her sister on the opposite side of the ballroom. His mother waved, acknowledging Abigail with a friendly gesture.
Remembering his manners belatedly, he bowed formally to Abigail. “Aunt Abigail, would you care for a dance?”
“No, thank you. These bones are too old for such vigorous exercise. However, I would like to take a turn about the room to get some fresh air.”
“I would be delighted to escort you.” Benjamin offered his arm. “It keeps the mothers away.”
Abigail laughed. “Now that sounded exactly like your father.”
Grasping his arm with her gloved hand, Abigail leaned heavily on Benjamin as they moved away from the dimmed hallway entrance. She panted a little from the exertion as they rounded the first corner of the ballroom. However, she managed to keep an even pace with Benjamin after he shortened his gait. When they approached the open terrace doors, Abigail stopped walking, her chest heaving slightly. She tilted her head, appraising Benjamin.
“Have you given any thought to the addendum in your father’s will?”
“I have,” Benjamin replied tersely, annoyed by the forthrightness of her question.
“And what was your decision?” She dismissed his aggravated tone.
Benjamin glared at her briefly and realized her prying question was based in concern for her sister’s future welfare. He swallowed his irritation. “I have decided upon Miss Shirely.”
“Hmm.” Abigail resumed their slow pace. They rounded the third corner, heading toward his mother and Mrs. Allendale. “She is a beautiful girl.”
Benjamin stopped walking and turned his full attention to his aunt. “Do you have any objections to the lady?”
“I do not like to involve myself in affairs of the heart,” she replied with a haughty sniff. The gleam in her eyes belied her true sentiments. Benjamin knew if he pressed, Abigail would offer him her candid judgment of the entire situation.
Benjamin pushed, “However, you must have an opinion.”
“Since you insist.” A grin twitched across Abigail’s lips as she expelled her judgment. “A lady who adores attention, such as Miss Shirely, will not be a suitable match for you.”
“How have you come by this estimation?” asked Benjamin, surprised by his curt tone.
Abigail raised her eyebrow; however, she did not comment on his discourteous behavior. “I have seen many seasons, Benjamin. One can tell a person’s character by the company they keep. Miss Shirely surrounds herself with suitors.”
“Is that your only objection?” asked Benjamin.
“Yes.” Abigail’s penetrating eyes unnerved him.
“I shall take your concern under consideration.” He replaced Abigail’s hand in the crook of his elbow again and tugged, drawing her into a slow stroll.
Abigail ignored Benjamin’s attempt to end the conversation and indicated the dance floor with her free arm. “Regarding that lovely girl in green…”
“Abigail,” Lady Westwood interrupted Abigail’s comment and winked at Benjamin. “It is a pleasure to see you
again.”
Abigail relinquished Benjamin’s arm and greeted her sister with a light squeeze. “Katherine, as always, the pleasure is mine.”
“How have you been?”
“In excellent health. And you? How are you faring?”
“Quite well, thank you.”
“Good. Now that the formalities are out of the way.” Abigail leaned forward and cupped her hand around her ear. “Tell me, what gossip have you heard?”
Benjamin snorted, shaking his head. Abigail’s abrupt manner no longer surprised him and, truth be told, he was grateful to cease being the focus of her singular consideration. Since both his aunt and mother were intimately occupied with the day’s scandals, he chose to make his escape before they returned to the inevitable subject of marriage. Hastily murmuring his regrets, he bowed and backed away, moving through the crowded outskirts of the ballroom.
His eyes sought the intriguing lady in green, still swirling in mesmerizing circles on the arm of Thomas whose delight grew more evident as she maneuvered a tricky step with grace. Benjamin noted her skin flushed a charming shade of pink. Her sparkling blue eyes glanced up at him briefly, electrifying his skin. Bemused by his intense reaction, Benjamin wondered if her touch would render the same response and decided to intervene–under the pretext of rescuing Thomas–to ascertain the lady’s unusual charms.
He took one step toward the couple and stopped. A petite barrier blocked his path with a dainty curtsy. He swallowed a frustrated growl. This evening was quickly becoming an exercise in patience. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile to his lips and greeted the woman standing in front of him.
“Mrs. Hastings.” He lifted her hand to his lips, barely touching the back of her hand, before releasing it immediately.
“Lord Westwood.” Mrs. Hastings curtsied a second time. “When did you return from Greece?”
“I returned just last month,” he answered politely, his eyes tracking the lady in Thomas’ arms. He imagined how she would feel in his arms, soft and supple under his fingertips. His hand twitched.
“Was it a pleasant voyage?” Mrs. Hastings persisted.
“It was satisfactory,” Benjamin ground out. Mrs. Hastings tilted her head at his abrupt tone. She opened her mouth to reply and snapped it shut, shifting a quarter-turn toward the dance floor. He had offended her. A widow deserved special treatment, especially Edward’s widow. Mentally, he berated himself. He needed her. She would be his ally when it came time to determine a proper match for Edward’s sister. He touched his hand to her elbow, in a comforting gesture, placing his full attention on her short frame.
“The trip was business related.”
“I never understood Edward’s business,” Mrs. Hastings admitted with a soft sigh. “All those numbers simply confuse me.”
“Do you need any advice concerning his affairs?”
“No, thank you,” she shook her head. “I have found someone to manage his affairs adequately.”
“I am glad to hear it. I will look over anything if you would like a second pair of eyes.”
“I appreciate your offer, Lord Westwood. I do not believe that will be necessary though.”
“Of course.” He inclined his head.
“I never properly thanked you for your help when Edward died.” Mrs. Hastings sniffed.
“He was like a brother, and I am certain he would have done the same, had I a wife.” Benjamin retrieved his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offered it to her.
“Thank you.” She accepted the handkerchief gratefully, dabbing the corners of her brown eyes. She glanced around the room as if ensuring no one had noticed her lapse in indifference and smoothed her skirt.
“Mrs. Hastings.” His gaze traveled the length of the gown; he grinned. “Are you looking for a husband?”
She blushed. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Then I shall extend the same courtesy to you as I extend to Miss Hastings.”
“You are very kind,” replied Mrs. Hastings demurely. “Although I believe you will have a difficult enough time trying to find a match for Miss Hastings.”
“I think I can manage.” Mrs. Hastings’ warning bounced in his mind. What was wrong with this girl?
“We shall see.” Mrs. Hastings smiled, lifting her glass to her lips.
“I should like to reacquaint myself with Miss Hastings,” Benjamin said. “One must know the lady’s character before one can approve of a suitable husband.”
“Have you already been introduced to Miss Hastings?” She turned in surprise.
“Yes,” answered Benjamin, a private grin tugging at his mouth. “I first met her when she was ten years old, a few days after the accident.”
“Have you kept regular contact with her?”
“No. I wrote to her a handful of times, but we fell out of contact. I never found the opportunity to visit Hastings Manor again.”
“It is rather a far distance,” agreed Mrs. Hastings. She took another sip from her glass.
“It was such a beautiful place,” replied Benjamin, his voice trailing off. It was not that Benjamin chose to never visit again. Edward always had reasons to postpone his return. Eventually, Benjamin stopped asking.
“Quite so. We have been blessed to spend the last few summers at Hastings Manor. The children find the countryside very diverting.” Mrs. Hastings sighed warily. “Miss Hastings taught them how to swim in the lake last year. That is all they talk about now.”
“Which lovely young lady is Miss Hastings?” asked Benjamin, his eyes roving the sidelines curiously. He wondered how he could have overlooked Edward’s sister.
“She is walking toward us.” Mrs. Hastings turned to indicate the mysterious woman in green approaching them on the arm of Thomas.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. His body clenched with a very unguardian-like need. “Little Samantha Hastings. You are all grown up.”
Chapter Five
“Samantha, may I present, Lord Westwood?” Wilhelmina gushed as Sam and Mr. Reid joined them.
“Lord Westwood.” Sam acknowledged him with an awkward curtsy, acutely aware of the blush still rouging her features. “I believe we have met before.”
“Indeed, Miss Hastings, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” replied Lord Westwood with a slight smile, lifting her arm to lightly kiss her hand. His lips brushed softly across her skin, sending tingles racing up her arm. “I hope this conversation will be as pleasurable as our last one.”
Sam fought back a shiver as she withdrew her hand. She exhaled slowly to allow herself time to regain control over her erratic heart before raising her eyes to Lord Westwood’s face. Her gaze hesitated on his full lips, which curved into a playful smile. Of course, he would find her embarrassment amusing.
She lifted her eyes higher, attempting to keep her facial features indifferent. The intensity of his emerald smolder startled her, causing Sam to inhale quickly. Her childhood memory of him was vastly different from the man now standing directly in front of her.
“Edward never spoke of your introduction. However, I always sensed there was something unusual about it. How did you meet?” asked Wilhelmina. Sam shot daggers at her.
“Regretfully, I hardly remember our last meeting,” stated Sam, her dispassionate voice sounded flat.
“I see.” Lord Westwood’s eyes narrowed slightly, a barely noticeable, little crinkle. Her comment annoyed him. “That is a shame. Perhaps I should tell the story?”
Sam paled, her eyes flying around the circle. Wilhelmina and Mr. Reid regarded Lord Westwood with interest. Societal embarrassments were horrendous enough but having Wilhelmina privy to every childhood humiliation seemed too much to bear. Sam debated the terrace again. How quickly she could make it across the floor before anyone would react? Was Lord Westwood foolish enough to chase her down at Wilhelmina’s request? With his long legs, he would surely catch her within a few moments. Surprise would be her only chance. Her wild eyes fixed on Lord Westwood, pleading with him.
He gazed back at her, a softer expression on his face. His head tilted to one side as he contemplated the manic look bleeding from her eyes.
“Please,” Sam mouthed, her face already hot from humiliation.
He nodded once. “Unfortunately, I do not remember the details either.”
“Old age claims another victim,” teased Mr. Reid.
“Then in two minutes you are going to forget everything too,” countered Lord Westwood with a grin.
“Damn.”
“Thomas, I am appalled by your language,” Lord Westwood chastised him, a grin hovering on his lips. “There are ladies present.”
“I am not offended gentlemen, Edward has said worse.” Wilhelmina nodded at Sam. “In truth, Miss Hastings has also said much worse.”
Sam’s jaw popped open. She blushed a deep red. “I was provoked.”
“What were the two of you discussing so intently before we arrived?” Mr. Reid asked, winking at Sam as he abruptly changed the subject.
“Mrs. Hastings and I were just discussing Miss Hastings’ future,” Lord Westwood answered blithely. His green eyes flared with a whisper of something dark.
“My future?” questioned Sam with a suspicious glance in Wilhelmina’s direction. “Is this regarding the discussion we had earlier this evening where I explained I had no intention of marrying any suitor?”
Wilhelmina looked away at that exact moment, suddenly interested in the empty glass in her hand. Sam glared at her forehead, but Wilhelmina refused to meet Sam’s irate stare. Incensed, Sam puffed out her chest, preparing to unleash a barrage of inappropriate comments. The atmosphere surrounding the tiny circle crackled with Sam’s fury.
“Mrs. Hastings.” Mr. Reid flashed an impish grin, interrupting the impending dispute. He bowed elegantly toward Wilhelmina. “I do believe good manners require me to ask you for the next dance.”