And Midas was Delilah’s one true love.
Louisa turned to Addie with a narrowed gaze. “Tell me honestly, Addie. What do you think of this man?”
Addie stopped fidgeting, her eyes growing wide as she seemed to mull that over. “I would not trust him,” she said softly, firmly. “Not for one heartbeat and not with anyone I cared about.”
Silence followed that quiet pronouncement.
And they call me melodramatic. Louisa bit her lip, stopping herself just in time from ruining the solemn moment with that remark.
Instead, she reminded herself of her vow for this evening. She would do nothing improper, nothing to call attention to herself, and nothing to bring her family embarrassment.
Granted, this new information changed things slightly.
But only slightly.
She’d be on alert, would keep her eyes wide open in the event that she saw or heard something that could help Tolston with his investigation. But she’d do it subtly. She’d be like a spy, hiding in plain sight under the guise of the perfect, demure, polished debutante.
“What do you suppose she’s plotting now?” Prudence murmured this to Delilah but Louisa heard her.
With a start she realized her three friends were regarding her warily.
“What is it?” she asked defensively.
Addie cringed a bit. “It’s just…you get this look on your face sometimes…”
“It almost always spells trouble,” Delilah finished bluntly.
Prudence came over to Louisa wearing her most patronizing look of condescension. “Whatever it is you are thinking right now, Louisa, please—” She reached out and gripped Louisa’s hands. “Please stop.”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “You all exaggerate far more than I ever do. You are aware of this, no?”
They ignored her.
“Please, Louisa,” Addie said. “Promise me you won’t call attention to yourself with Everley. And please do not get yourself into any trouble because of what I’ve said.”
Louisa went over to her friend and wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace. “I thank you for sharing this with me, Addie. I know how you are trying to move on from all that awfulness.”
Addie hugged her back just as tightly. “Just take care of yourself, please.”
“Of course I will,” Louisa said. And she’d make sure her parents and Margaret were safe, as well.
And her friends.
She was heading into evil’s lair and she would protect everyone she loved from harm.
“Promise me,” Addie said again.
Louisa patted her back before moving back to the vanity to finish getting ready.
Delilah’s voice was dry behind her as she addressed the other two. “Did anyone else notice that Louisa never actually agreed to that promise?”
Chapter Eight
Lord Everley stood beside Lawrence in the townhome’s sprawling drawing room where a large majority of the crowd was gathered, talking loudly over one another. “I do hope we can find a moment alone this evening,” the host said, his patrician features creasing in a smile.
Lawrence tipped his head. “Of course.”
“I’ve discovered we may have some common interests,” Everley added—rather cryptically, Lawrence thought. But before he could explain just what they might have in common, Everley’s attention was caught by a society matron, who was waving him over.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I must see to my duties.”
Lawrence was oddly relieved to see him go. Something loosened inside him as his host walked away, and he could not explain why. To date, his interactions with the older man had been nothing but polite. Boring, even. Discussions about the weather, for the most part. Through it all, Everley had been proper and benign, his voice well-modulated, his posture upright, and his demeanor placid. He was everything a gentleman ought to be, Lawrence supposed.
So why was it the man set his teeth on edge?
He looked around and caught Gregory doing the same, scanning the crowd.
Gregory grinned and lifted his glass in a sort of salute and Lawrence did the same before they both shot a look toward the drawing room entrance.
Irritation shot through Lawrence. Where were they?
Where was she?
“Have they decided not to come?” Gregory asked.
“Have you ever thought about pursuing a career in espionage?” Lawrence asked mildly, not turning to look at his friend who’d managed to cross the room and join his side without him noticing. “You move with remarkable stealth.”
His friend chuckled beside him. “And you evade questions with similar ease. Perhaps we have missed our calling by not joining the Army.”
Lawrence shot his friend a sidelong smirk. “Yes, I am certain they are heartbroken at not having two pampered gentlemen in their midst.”
Gregory scoffed. “Speak for yourself, my lord. You might be a marquess but I’m a second son. I could do worse than the military.”
Lawrence shot his friend a questioning look. “Are you serious?”
Gregory shrugged as he sipped his drink. “I have been giving it some thought,” he answered vaguely. “Recently the thought of having something more to offer…” He shrugged again. “Some purpose and a good living…”
Lawrence eyed his friend for a long moment, uncertain of what to say. Gregory was cousin to an earl and came from a family with a vast fortune. More than enough to set him up with whatever sort of life he desired.
Lawrence had always assumed he wanted to live comfortably in London. He knew his friend was expected to make a good match, but beyond that…
Well, he supposed he hadn’t given it much thought beyond that.
The notion shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it did. He and Gregory had always been on the same page when it came to doing their duties. Neither had ever tried to resist the obligations that were placed upon them. But, at the same time, neither had set out to find some sort of…purpose.
He supposed being a marquess was his purpose. The duties involved were time consuming and the responsibilities of his title weighed heavily.
But for a second there he’d felt a pang of…jealousy. He supposed there was no other word for it. His friend was talking about choosing his purpose.
Choosing his destiny.
And the thought left him feeling oddly desolate and alone.
He found himself staring at the doorway once more, no longer even attempting to hide his fascination with the comings and goings at the doorway as more and more people filed in.
He heard music coming from another room and supposed this party was about to get even more crowded and jovial as the spirits flowed and the dancing got underway.
Oddly enough, his own spirits seemed to be sinking quickly and he watched the doorway like a drowning man eyeing the horizon for his rescue.
There. At last. He was only dimly aware of Lord and Lady Torrent’s arrival, or that of their eldest daughter. His gaze caught by the redhead who hovered just behind them, vibrant in a green gown. She shifted behind her parents, as if trying to hide, but how anyone could miss her was beyond him.
Why would she even try?
The girl wasn’t just beautiful, though she had a pretty face and a stunning smile. She was something else. Pretty and beautiful did not quite cover the certain magic she possessed that made the room seem to come alive when she entered.
For the first time all night, Lawrence took a deep breath.
He could breathe.
The stodgy, formal, and familiar atmosphere that surrounded him seemed to brighten until the candlelight dazzled his eyes.
And all because this little imp had arrived.
Fascinating.
His lips fought the urge to grin at the mere sight of her, and not only because he was imagining the sight of her white undergarments as she toppled through a window. No, that and the image of her dancing alone in the dark were just a part of it.
The other part of his une
xpected and utterly uncharacteristic joyfulness was this wonderful sensation of anticipation.
What will Louisa do next?
She appeared the picture of propriety from across the room, but he watched her closely, waiting for her true nature to come bubbling to the surface. He might not have known her long, but he knew only a fool would try to predict what Louisa might say or do next.
How many people were unpredictable?
Lawrence could not think of a single soul who fit that description off the top of his head aside from this impulsive little minx.
He also couldn’t think of anyone else who held such a natural, undeniable glow. It begged the question—could a person illuminate from the inside out?
His logical brain said no.
But his logical brain was also at a loss to explain the very real, very physical effect she seemed to have on the atmosphere around her. He’d mistaken it for childish delight when he’d spotted her that first night, and then as an air of mischief in the alley, but here, now…
It was clear that she possessed a special magic that was all her own. A joie de vivre mixed with curiosity and spiced with kindness.
Whatever it was, it was hers and hers alone.
She smiled prettily at a partygoer who’d joined her and her family. A gentleman whose name eluded him.
Jealousy shot through him.
It was jealousy, pure and simple, no matter how much he told himself that the feeling was not welcome here.
This possessiveness was inappropriate in the extreme. She was not his to possess.
But I want her to be.
The thought struck him like a gong and left him rattling in its wake.
“Are you all right, Tumberland?” Gregory asked from beside him. “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”
Lawrence blinked, and then he let out a choked laugh at the aptness of that comment. How very fitting indeed. She’d mistaken him for a ghost, and he looked upon her as though he’d seen one. It was nearly poetic.
“Did I say something amusing?” Gregory asked, his own brows arched with amusement as he regarded him.
“Not really.” Lawrence shook his head, still befuddled by his latest realization. “I think, perhaps, I am suffering some sort of nervous breakdown. Is such a thing possible?”
Gregory laughed beside him, but the sound seemed to lack his normal level of glee. “Well, I have heard that falling for a lady can take a toll on one’s sanity. Tolston assures me that once gone, it never returns.”
Lawrence’s gaze shot over to Gregory, who was looking between him and the viscount’s family.
“Falling for…” He started to protest but gave it up quickly. He didn’t have the energy to argue, not now when his world had just shifted on its axis at the realization that he wasn’t just curious about Louisa.
He was intrigued.
No, that word was still not quite strong enough.
Afflicted, maybe. Or perhaps he was…smitten.
What an awful word for it, but it was far more fitting, though smote would perhaps be even more apt. He might as well have been smote by one of Zeus’s thunderbolts as he watched Louisa walk into the room with that brilliant smile.
His fingers itched to touch that flaming hair that was currently piled upon her head in some extravagant updo. The curls that had already escaped seemed to be begging him to set the rest of her locks free.
That hair deserved to be wild and free, just like her. Instead, she looked like a tiger in chains as she followed her mother and sister’s lead, dipping her head with a demureness that did not suit her as she exchanged pleasantries, that warm smile freezing in place as she no doubt said and did all that was prim and proper.
“I cannot fault you for your judgment,” Gregory said. “She is certainly a beauty.”
Lawrence murmured some sort of agreement, not entirely pleased to have anyone else noticing her beauty at this particular moment. For some bizarre reason he had this notion that it was for him and him alone. Her odd behavior, her sense of humor, those freckles that teased him, and that hair which was mercilessly restrained…
He had this deep down primal need to possess it. All of it. All of her.
She was meant for him, of that he was certain.
He glanced over at Gregory, and just like that he stopped fretting over his lack of purpose and choice.
The military might give his friend the sort of direction and freedom he craved, but for Lawrence…
He smiled over at the viscount’s family, willing her to look his way.
Lawrence was certain that Louisa embodied the freedom and the purpose he craved. He wanted to look after her, to keep her out of trouble while ensuring that no one dampened her spirit or muted her brilliance.
And that, he decided right then and there…
That was precisely what he would do.
Chapter Nine
Louisa felt Tumberland’s eyes on her from across the room. The pull of his gaze was like a magnet that she was desperate to resist.
Do not look his way. Do not look his way.
She had to say it repeatedly to keep her mind on task.
“Do you see?” her mother hissed beside her. “Lord Tumberland is looking this way.”
Louisa bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a scream. The tension inside of her was ratcheting up, needing a release. If she were a kettle, her whistle would be shrieking to high heaven.
Of course she was aware of Lord Tumberland’s gaze. She had been from the moment they’d stepped foot inside this opulent home with its overbearing décor. She’d been aware of little else but Tumberland’s keen eyes that seemed to follow her every move—judging, and no doubt finding her wanting.
But still, she’d been doing her best to please. To fit the ideal that her mother so desperately wished her to meet. For one night, she could do it. It was just one night.
Smile, say nothing out of the ordinary, and for heaven’s sake—stay out of trouble.
Easier said than done when the first person to greet them had been none other than Lord Everley himself.
Lord Evil, as she had started to refer to him in her head.
Delilah might have been able to come up with excuses for the man, but what sort of person even joked about murdering a child?
Only someone truly evil, obviously.
And she was here. In his house. Smiling like a simpleton.
Margaret shifted beside her to look. “I did not see Tumberland,” she said as she craned her neck for a view of the gentleman they were all so desperate to impress tonight.
“No, do not look,” their mother said through a smile and gritted teeth. “Margaret, do remember to smile. He must see how pleasant you are.”
“If he had not yet caught on to the fact that Margaret is pleasant by now, we might want to see if he needs his vision checked,” Louisa said.
It was the wrong thing so say. Her mother shot her an exasperated look.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. To Margaret she added, “It is just that I imagine you are always smiling around him. You are so very good at that. Don’t your cheeks ever hurt?”
“Louisa,” her mother hissed before turning to greet a countess.
“All the time,” Margaret murmured under her breath.
Louisa nodded. She could believe it. She typically thought of herself as a jovial sort, but this nonstop smiling, even while talking, even when sipping on a lemonade…
It was torture.
Likely because it wasn’t genuine. Her cheeks strained against it. Maybe she could slip away to a less crowded room to frown. Just for a little while…
“Here he comes!” her mother whispered urgently in her ear. “Remember, do not speak unless he addresses you, and for heaven’s sake, try not to embarrass your sister.”
Louisa pressed her lips together and nodded, afraid that if she were to speak she might do something inexcusable…like cry.
She knew her mother had good intentions. They all did. Even Loui
sa. This night was not about any one person’s pride or hurt feelings, it was about the greater good of the family.
And Tumberland?
For better or for worse, he seemed to be their greater good.
“Good evening, Lady Torrent,” Tumberland said as he reached their side. He gave a low bow to Louisa’s mother and then Margaret before turning to her. “I am pleased you could join us this evening, Miss Louisa.”
She managed to maintain a smile even though her insides had gone for a ride. They tumbled about like they used to do when she’d do somersaults in the park as a child. But it seemed they’d gone ahead without her this time, so here she stood—her exterior placid as a rock as her insides frolicked.
It was an effort to maintain eye contact. Why was he looking at her like that? Like she was some specimen to be examined? It was disconcerting.
But, of course, she knew why. He was trying to find fault, no doubt. She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. He would find none, she reminded herself. Delilah, Prudence, Addie, and Miss Grayson had all given her their approval before she’d left, and even her mother hadn’t been able to find fault when she’d joined them in the family carriage.
She told herself this, but it did not help this feeling of being seen—not just studied or watched, but truly seen. Like he was looking beyond her smile, past the elaborate hairstyle that made her temples ache, and straight through the fashionable gown.
This man was quite obviously examining her, and his expression was unreadable.
Do I pass muster? she wanted to snap.
She wanted to, but she did not.
See? Self-control was well within her reach.
“Might I have the honor of your first dance?” he asked, his voice that low murmur she was starting to become familiar with.
She waited for Tumberland to finally turn away to face the lady to whom he was speaking. Her mother and Margaret stood just to her left and they all seemed to be waiting for him to tear his intense gaze from Louisa’s face and offer a smile and a hand to Margaret.
He did not turn away.
The silence grew taut until Louisa’s mother elbowed her. “Answer the kind gentleman, Louisa.”
The School of Charm: Books 1-5 Page 21