by Diana Ballew
“Apparently, she is newly arrived. A pity we just missed her at the ball the other night. She was a huge success, with absolutely every young dandy vying for a dance with her.” Anne eyed him critically as he settled across from her. “It’s just what you need, my boy. A torrid romance will lift your spirits, I have no doubt.”
“Please, Mother. Do not attempt any matchmaking. I can handle my own affairs, romantic or otherwise.”
“Well, you’ve been handling them rather poorly of late, son. I usually have to make an appointment with you, when I am in town and wish your company, you are so in demand with the ladies. Since I’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but mope about. Why, you’ve turned down more offers these last weeks than most men ever receive!”
“Mother, don’t exaggerate so. Besides, is there something wrong with taking time away from amorous pursuits? I do have estates to run, you know.”
His mother only snorted derisively. Rafe said nothing in response, glad when they arrived at Lord Blake’s home.
“My lords and ladies, the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Devonshire!”
“Ah, good!” Jeffrey Blake was there to greet them. “I was so hoping you’d arrive before too many others, dear Dutchess, Rafe.” The redheaded gentleman bowed to Anne, then shook Rafe’s hand. “My mother has been anxious to speak with you, Your Grace. She has quite pestered me with each new guest announced to go and see if there was an error and it was really you.”
“Your lady mother is a twit, Jeffrey, and well you know it.” Humor sparkled in Anne’s eyes, despite her caustic words.
“Of course she is, Dutchess, but she is my mother, and so I must put up with her.” Jeffrey rolled his eyes, then smiled at the duchess adoringly. “Please do go and sit with her, for just a brief spell, I beg of you.”
“All right, but only to get it over with and out of the way.” She patted Rafe’s cheek. “Do be a love and come fetch me in a half an hour.”
“Of course, Mother.” Rafe always found it amusing the way Jeffrey and she dealt with each other.
“Your mother’s loveliness and sharpness of tongue only seem to increase with each passing year. How lucky a man was your father.” Lord Blake chuckled.
Rafe agreed, then, as more newcomers were arriving to claim Jeffrey’s attention, moved off to find the champagne. The ballroom was only just now beginning to fill. He saw several acquaintances from his club and decided to pass the time with them until he had to go and “rescue” his mother.
Isabella frowned at her reflection. “Are you sure about this gown, Whit?” Her hair was pulled up on top of her head, thick ringlets of auburn tresses spilling down to brush against her shoulders. The style made her face even more attractively angular and gave her a bit more height. She could find no fault with the coiffure, at least.
“For the tenth time, Bella, it is absolute perfection and you simply could not look more beautiful.” Whit had selected the evening dress himself, a shimmering, rich gold creation designed just for her.
“Don’t you think it a bit too daring?”
“Rubbish, it is even a bit more modest in the neckline than your lavender one.”
“If you are sure.” Isabella was a bundle of nerves. Goodness, Rafe was a Duke! And not just a duke, but the ‘debauched duke.’ Lisbeth would probably advise her to fly home as fast as she could.
Her cousin entered the parlor, hailing Whit and carrying a black box.
“Stunning, my dear!”
Isabella faced him, smiling at his praise until she saw him frown.
“What’s wrong.” She began to check herself over, panicking as she looked for a tear or stain.
“You’re lacking something.” He opened the box and grinned at her gasp. “Just some family baubles to enhance your glory.”
“Oh, my! Alex, I cannot wear those.” She stepped closer to look at the topaz and diamonds shimmering on a bed of black velvet. “They must be worth a fortune.”
“Bloody right they are, and you deserve no less, cousin.” He set the box down, removed the dainty necklace and clasped it around her neck. He then handed her the matching earrings. After she had put on the earrings, he fastened a delicate bracelet for her.
“There, I think that’s all you need. Don’t want to appear gaudy, like so many of them do with tiaras and brooches and rings galore.”
“An excellent touch, old man. So very thoughtful of you,” Whit said, grinning as usual.
“Well,” blustered the huge man, “can’t have it said me family lacks enough groats to decorate their females.”
“Ha! Like anyone who even knows of your family could think you don’t have enough money. Why, Isabella herself could buy plenty of jewels.”
Isabella looked at her image in the mirror over the fireplace and was surprised how much the simple jewelry enhanced her appearance. She impulsively turned and launched herself at her cousin, hugging him and planting a kiss on his chin, unable to reach his cheek.
“Oh, thank you so much! And you, too, Whit.” His cheek she could reach. “You’ve both made me feel like a fairy princess.” She grinned at their blushes. “Can we go now?”
Alex recovered himself first. “Now, what did we tell you about making a grand entrance? No,” he shook his head at her, “don’t give me that look. We shall wait just a bit longer.”
The three sat in the coach, just down the block from Lord Blake’s residence. They had been there for only some fifteen minutes, and already Isabella thought she would go mad with the suspense.
“Bella, do stop fidgeting, you’ll muss yourself.”
“Alex, how much longer do we have to just sit here? Don’t you think it’s been long enough?”
“No. There are still too many carriages arriving.”
She tried to keep still but that only lasted another ten minutes. She smoothed the fabric of her pure white cape, then tugged at the gold braid, which banded the collar and tied the covering closed.
Whit leaned over and peered out of the window. “You know, Alex, I think it is time.” He looked at Isabella, a devilish twinkle in his soft brown eyes. “Remember what we told you, my dear?”
“Of course, of course.” Isabella fluttered her hand at him dismissively. “I know perfectly well how you said to behave.”
Alex and Whit nodded to each other, satisfied. The larger man thumped his fist against the roof, and the carriage jerked forward.
Rafe escorted his mother back to the party and handed her a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.
“Ah, there is Lady Stella. I shall go and ask her if that new beauty has arrived.” She gave her son an impish grin, then moved off to speak with her fellow companion in gossip.
Rafe sighed. He was at a loss of what to do with himself. He had yet to find a lady to even remotely tempt him, and Whit and Alex hadn’t yet shown up. The attention of his other acquaintances was now on gaming, something he found a bit boring. He stopped another waiter, liberated two glasses of the bubbly for himself, and downed the first flute in one gulp. He heard the thump of the staff signaling the announcement of some late arrivers. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of red and turning, saw his mother racing to his side.
“It’s her, I’m sure! Stella said she was not here, as yet.” She looked toward the entry which was raised above the main floor by a low flight of stairs, an anxious expression on her face.
“My lords and ladies!”
Rafe could swear the room grew quieter, as if everyone was anticipating that this was the supposed ‘new beauty.’ He rolled his eyes and his mother poked him in the ribs.
“Look, that must be her!”
“The Earl of Stapleton, the Viscount Langley and the Baroness of Kirkwood!”
Rafe was flabbergasted. Isabella?
“You see, Lady Stella was right.”
What was the hell was she doing here in London?
“My goodness, what a lovely young woman.”
How long had she been here? Why hadn
’t Alex said anything?
“I understand she is Alex’s cousin. Odd that he has not brought her around to me for an introduction.”
“Isabella,” Rafe whispered her name, his pulse racing.
“What dear?”
“Good God, it’s really her.” Rafe watched her pause there, at the top of the stairs, her fingertips gently placed on the sleeve of the men on either side of her. “Look at her and tell me again she’s merely lovely. She is beyond words.”
Isabella stood still, the barest trace of a smile hovering about that lush mouth of hers. And then her eyes locked with his and Rafe felt a surge of desire and possessiveness wash over him, the likes of which he had never felt before. He saw her eyes widen, or thought he did, but her gaze left him and she slowly turned her head to survey the room. She was a vision of warm gold topped by her glorious, aureate hair, luminescent with highlights of fire.
What the hell was she doing here?
Isabella’s heart was pounding. She’d spotted him easily enough and it was all she could do to keep from running down the steps and flinging herself into Rafe’s strong arms. Even without her cohort’s earlier warnings, she could not do it, would not do it while the entire assembly was staring at her as they were. She forced herself to look away from his piercing blue eyes.
“Well done, Bella,” Whit whispered close to her ear.
“Ah! The ravishing Lady Isabella.” Jeffrey Blake approached them, a broad smile on his round face. Stray tendrils of red hair defied his otherwise tidy queue.
Allowing a trace of a smile to curve her lips, Isabella lifted her hand from Alex’s arm and held it out to her host, who obligingly kissed it.
“I don’t know how it is possible, but you are even more beautiful tonight than I remember, my lady.”
Isabella had to remind herself not to look toward Rafe as she allowed Lord Blake to lead her forward down the steps. Her two escorts followed close behind.
“Why, thank you, my lord. It was very kind of you to invite me to your home. What lovely decorations.” She could feel Rafe’s gaze still on her. Her skin tingled with awareness of his virile, commanding presence.
“They pale in your presence, my lady. Even the moon hides tonight, knowing it cannot possibly outshine you.”
“Good God, Jeffrey, you’re putting it on a might thick,” Alex muttered.
Isabella chuckled, low and deep. Her host suddenly had a startled look on his face.
“Do not worry, my lord, my cousin has promised to behave himself this evening. He is to attempt to stop glowering so.”
“Ah, champagne, Lady Isabella?” Jeffrey asked, eyeing her guardians standing so close.
“Yes, thank you, Lord Blake.”
“Please, do me the honor of calling me Jeffrey.”
“As you wish.”
Isabella caught Alex exchanging looks with Whit out of the corner of her eye. They looked extremely pleased with her performance thus far. She was acting every bit the regal lady, as they told her to.
Isabella handed her glass to her cousin. “Lord Jeffrey, I should very much like to dance.”
“Of course, Baroness. I should like nothing better myself.”
She could feel Rafe’s gaze upon her, watching her every move, along with dozens of others, as their host led her onto the dance floor and whirled her about. It seemed the plan was working. Her ‘advisors’ had instructed her to ignore her love, as best she could, until he approached her. She was to appear receptive to other men’s attentions, but still be her most aloof self. Whit had said to act as if she held some great secret that none of the others were yet privy too and that she found vaguely amusing. They had assured her such behavior would intrigue any man. She thought it all nonsense, really, although surprisingly easy to do. She hoped Rafe wouldn’t take too much longer.
Rafe watched her dancing, his hands fisted at his sides. She looked positively radiant, damn her, in that gold gown which clung to her curves like a second skin. Where the devil did she get those jewels?
“Darling, you look as if you want to kill Lord Jeffrey. Do stop it. Is this my son who had aloofness down to a fine art?”
“Excuse me, Mother.” Rafe’s gaze narrowed on the couple as Jeffrey’s hand slid down Bella’s back a bit too far, for his liking.
“Rafe, good God, get ahold of yourself!” His mother placed a hand on his sleeve. “You cannot cause a scene by storming onto the floor and hitting him.”
“Why not?” he growled out.
“You are being an ass. Why don’t you just take a deep breath and, when the dance is over, partner her on the next?”
“Of course. Thank you, my dear.” Rafe decided he would waltz Bella out onto the veranda and strangle her there in the moonlight.
Just what the hell was she doing here?
The music finally ended, but before Rafe could get to her, Lord Northby claimed Isabella in the next dance. Soon, Rafe was frustrated beyond belief as the scene repeated itself. The very moment one partner stepped away, another was there to take his place. After Northby was Smythe, then Cross, and so on. Truly, it was disgusting how they all fawned over her.
“Dearest, I have a headache. Would you see me home?”
“I’m sorry, Mother, what did you say?” Lord Elton was now holding Isabella much too closely. Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he watched her smile at some remark from the old lecher.
“Son, I want to leave. I have a headache.”
“What, now?” For the first time since Isabella had started dancing, Rafe looked at his mother.
“Yes, now.”
“Can’t you just take a powder or something? No, no, don’t say it. Of course I shall take you home at once.” He frowned, looking toward his lady fair. “But don’t expect me to sit with you.”
“Of course not, dearest.”
Chapter 16
Alex and Whit sat comfortably in the former’s study, sipping fine old brandy and listened to the pounding on the front door. It had been going on for a good ten minutes.
“All right, let him in.” Alex finally told his butler, Brisby, who was hovering about, looking morose indeed.
The two lords heard cursing as the front door crashed against the wall then was slammed shut. The force rattled the windowpanes.
“God damn it, Alex!” Rafe stormed into the room, tossing his black cloak back over his shoulders. “Where is she?” He leaned down, placed his hands on either arm of his large friend’s chair, and stuck his face into the other’s. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
”Just whom are you referring to, old man?” Alex responded coolly. “I certainly brought no woman here. What about you, Whit? Are you harboring some chit under me roof?” He shoved Rafe away, hard, a dangerous glint in his sable eyes.
“You know very well who I mean, damn your soul!” Rafe shook his fist at the two who just sat there looking as calm as could be. “I went back to Blake’s only to find you had spirited her away the moment I left!”
“I do believe he means your lady cousin,” Whit supplied and pretended to stifle a yawn behind his hand.
“Oh, her. Well, you can’t think she would be here in a bachelor’s residence, me boy. That’s absurd.”
“Then what bloody hotel did you put her in?” Rafe raked his fingers through his already mussed hair.
He had panicked upon finding they had already left the party. For several moments, sorrow had gripped him at the thought of never seeing Isabella again. Of course, his good reason had returned, and he’d known just where she would be. Or so he had thought.
“I don’t know why I should tell you where she is.” Alex leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “What does it matter to you?”
“Just why is she here in London? Why isn’t she safely tucked away in North Bindlefork?”
“She has never been here before,” Whit said with a shrug. “That’s reason enough for me. You know women. She’s been buying new gowns and hats, seeing the sights.” He smiled slyly. “Why, I do believe she
may even be thinking about making a suitable match while here.”
“The hell she is! How could you two allow her to be groped by all those damned dandies tonight?” Rafe was oblivious to the knowing looks that passed between the other two, as he began to pace. “Lord, Alex, what were you thinking, allowing her to wear that dress? It bloody well clung to her! And just who gave her those jewels, I’d like to know? She doesn’t own any, save the diamond earrings her father gave her.”
“You certainly seem to know a good deal about it. Would you care for a brandy?” Whit asked, his voice bland.
Rafe sank down onto the chocolate brown leather ottoman, holding his head in his hands. “If you won’t tell me where she is, at least tell me she’s all right.” He stared morosely at the tips of his highly polished shoes. He knew he was mad to be doing this, to be seeking her out. Their lust was a dangerous thing to them both, but he could only think of her. Thoughts of her suffering over his rejection had been awful enough. Now he had to endure visions of her earlier enjoyment as one man after another held her in their arms. Could she actually be entertaining thoughts of marrying any of those gentlemen?
“What does it matter to you?” Alex asked again, softly, a wary yet curious look about him.
“God, I don’t know. Alex, she’s all I’ve been able to think about since we returned.” He sat up, realizing what he’d just confessed. “All right, plain speeking. I’m infatuated with her. She quite got under my skin, it seems, and I cannot get her out.” Rafe shook his head at the stares from his friends. “I know, it’s absurd that a jaded man like myself should develop such a fondness for the girl. Go ahead and laugh.”
“I’m not laughing, you sod. And if it is only an infatuation, you can bloody well leave her alone.”
“I cannot.”
“Then I’ll kill you, old man.”
It was said with such quiet menace, Rafe quite believed Alex. He looked at his friend, shocked, as a sudden realization came to him. “Good God, she told you about us!”
“She confessed that you took certain, well, liberties with her very lovely person, Rafe,” Whit chimed in. “All right, plain speaking it is, my friend. While she’s visiting, we shall see to protecting her, from you or any others a bit too eager. If you don’t have honorable intentions, then you’d best stay away from the lady. It’s as simple as that.”