Lord Will & Her Grace

by Sophia Nash

  William felt wretched, watching her. She had the same cynical yet charming countenance he had caught on his face many a time. He had put that expression on a face that had only ever been open and honest in the past. He hardened himself to his resolve. He would restore her.

  "And," Sophie continued, "as I am always generous when gratitude is in order, I shall offer a serious candidate to help you solve your dilemma."

  "Unless you're willing to reconsider my proposal, I assure you that you will be unable to tempt me with someone else," William said.

  "No, it is not I. It's Lady Mary Russell, the Earl of Shanet's daughter."

  William grimaced.

  "As you might have heard, she was left at the altar a fortnight ago and the poor dear confided in me that she's in search of a fast marriage of convenience as she cannot bear the pitying looks. I think the two of you would suit. An added benefit is that you'd be forced to move to her father's estate in Surrey, well away from the lure of the vices that tempt you in town."

  William knew she wouldn't believe any attempt he made to cleanse his character. In fact, she'd assume it was all a pack of lies. Unconsciously he reassumed the façade he'd taken more than two decades ago. "I suppose you've tired of the idea of wearing men's pantaloons, despite tonight's intriguing display, then? If I wed this jilted bride, this might be the last time you'd be able to wear them, my dear, in case you've forgotten." When he saw the question in her eyes he continued. "The wager. How soon they forget."

  "No, I haven't forgotten wagering is of prime importance in your life. But I wouldn't be so sure of your success in this particular gamble."

  A flicker of fear snaked up his spine. "You're not betrothed, Sophie, are you?"

  She looked straight at him through half-shuttered eyes. A look that filled him with grief anew, so much did it look like a mirror of himself.

  "Why, yes. Yes, I am, most assuredly." She wore a half smile on her lips.

  "To whom?" he whispered.

  He finally forced her to break contact with his gaze.

  "Why, I haven't decided, precisely," she replied.

  He exhaled with relief. "So you've more than one prospect?"

  "I thought you knew. And I shall select one by the end of the month."

  "So you've not given your word." It was more of a statement than a question. "And who are the lucky bastards?"

  "Now, now, my lord, such language."

  "Sophie, it will not do. I shall have you in the end, my darling. I shall slay whosoever dares to assume my place. You became mine in the music room at Villa Belza."

  Sophie stiffened. "You presume too much. By your reasoning a goodly portion of the women in England and France are yours as well."

  If she would just allow him to hold her once again, he was confident, over time, he'd be able to convince her of his honest feelings and intentions. He must change tactics.

  "Miss Somerset, you are too good. Thank you for granting me this quarter hour and your forgiveness of past events. I'll not trouble you any longer, I promise, if you'll grant me the final pleasure of a farewell kiss."

  "No."

  "Then a set of dances?"

  A long pause heightened his hopes.

  "Perhaps. But only if you promise never to seek my acquaintance again."

  "Agreed." He would say whatever was necessary to get her into his arms again, fire and brimstone be damned.

  Sophie handed the dog to him and walked resolutely back to the ballroom. At the last moment, Will touched her slim arm. "I shall seek you out for the next waltz."

  He turned on his heel before she could respond, then went in search of Lady Jacqueline and Mornington. William discovered them cooling their heels in the front entrance hallway, their heated whispers echoing within the arches.

  "What's going on here?" Will asked.

  "I'm leaving," Mornington ground out.

  "Old fiddle-faddle got a mite peeved when I found myself in a most uncomfortable situation," Jack replied, lifting his chin in the air.

  "And the situation was?"

  "He was going to relieve himself in the ladies' withdrawing room, for Christ's sake," replied Mornington.

  Will bit back a grin.

  "Thank heavens a delightful— You would have found her amusing, I'm sure," Jack said, looking at Will through his lorgftette. "Anyway, a delightful little French maid, by the name of Mademoiselle Karine Marcher, took one look at me outside the withdrawing room and led me to a nice secluded place where I could take care of my needs. She was most entertaining. We've become the best of friends."

  William blinked. "Petite, with a cynical, razor sharp wit?"

  "Exactly."

  "Miss Somerset's ladies' maid," William stated.

  Jack clapped his hands excitedly. "How convenient. By the way, I agreed to give her a small token of appreciation, which I am sure one of you will happily supply."

  Mornington sighed.

  "Have you proposed to Miss Owens?" Will asked his friend.

  "Absolutely not. This has been a complete unmitigated disaster between Jacqueline's needs and flamboyant dancing, and I haven't been able to find Miss Owens. I think she was so crestfallen when she saw me with Jacqueline that she disappeared."

  "Come on now, back to the ballroom. I saw her and the Cornwallis relation next to the hosts just a moment ago. Time for us both to face the music," Will winked and handed Mrs. Tickle to Jack.

  "And what am I to do then? I refuse to be a wallflower. A girl has to have some fun once in her life," Jack said, then looked down at his pug. "And have you had any fun, my love? I do believe you have if that"—Jack sniffed the dab of yellow on her snout—"curried egg on your nose is any indication."

  The crush was miserable tonight. All the young misses must have begged their relations to accept so they could wear something besides the modest white dresses that were their badges of innocence. Why, oh, why had she agreed to a set of dances with him? Normally her card would've been full but her costume had worked against her in the end. Her admirers hadn't recognized her in gentleman's dress or were lost in the uproarious crowd.

  She feigned interest in her aunt and Mari's less than scintillating conversation all the while considering her situation. After glancing at Mari's pallid countenance, she'd determined to ask her aunt for an early leave-taking. But Lord Coddington's father approached and preceded her request by soliciting the great lady's hand for the next set, giving rise to a giddy expression on her relation's face.

  Sophie sighed. How in heaven was she to get through a waltz with William? She'd thought when she'd agreed to a set that it would be a minuet, or a country-dance, but he'd disappeared into the crowd before she could refuse.

  She'd barely maintained her controlled façade in the garden. And it had almost slipped entirely when he'd taken her hand. As it stood, the only reason she was able to slip inside this caricature of feminine charm and wit extraordinaire was for the noble purpose of pleasing and aiding her family, and perhaps, just perhaps, if she was honest, it was a way to hide her hurt and mortification.

  The first swelling notes of a waltz filled the air.

  All thought of good deeds fled with the notion of dancing with William. A cowardly act looked tempting indeed. Maybe she would retreat to the ladies' withdrawing room and face Karine's inquisition.

  Sophie turned and a hot swirl glided along her tightly corseted waist. She glanced down to see the familiar bronzed and long fingered hand she knew all too well. William pulled her against the solid wall of his chest.

  Chapter Ten

  LOOKING for an escape, ma chérie?" he whispered in her ear. "I'd not thought you capable of breaking your word." He gently nipped her lobe then kissed the side of her neck. His mask tickled her hairline.

  She was trapped. The crowd, if anything, enlarged, making it almost impossible to move let alone put arm's-length distance between them. And amazingly, everyone was laughing and amusing themselves to such a degree that no one paid any attention to w
hat he'd just done to her. Now Sophie understood why the high sticklers frowned upon masquerades. Camouflage encouraged the taking of liberties.

  William grasped her hand and made a path through the mass of people to the dancing area. His right arm curved around her waist as he assumed the correct posture for a French waltz. He glided into the first step and suddenly Sophie forgot the rest of the people in the room, so thoroughly lost was she to anyone save William.

  Sophie held her breath as the intense awareness of the raw, physical sensuality of him flowed through her in waves. She was sure he was holding her much too closely but when she looked, if anything, he was being overly correct.

  Music had always been her one great delight. Sophie loved feeling the music and rhythm wash over her, become part of her. She had never encountered a powerful, brilliant partner who sensed the music as she. He led her with a strong, self-assured command, allowing her to completely trust in his mastery and lose herself to the music.

  And suddenly, they were traversing the room using a thrilling series of intricate steps her aunt's short, thin dance instructor had shown her but once before. William led her into a balletic leap followed by a flowing French movement in which his hips and thighs rolled against her own in the most shockingly sensual of all the proper motions of the dance. The pallid instructor's version of the steps compared to William's was like water to chocolate, or if she was truthful, like being kissed by her cousin versus being possessed by a man.

  Sophie could not tell if she was dizzy from the fast pirouettes or drunk with the power of the emotions he evoked in her breast. She had never danced with anyone like this. It was as if he had worked his way past her mind into her very soul.

  As she gripped his powerfully broad back, Sophie dared to look up into his face and saw only his mysterious, serious eyes surrounded by the black mask. It was mesmerizing Within moments the full spectrum of her many encounters with him flashed before her. She saw his glistening, hard muscles naked from the bath, his laughing eyes behind the fan, the humorous nonchalance he had displayed in his valet's clothes, his unwavering charm toward the fairer sex, and then the intensity of the depths of his pain and passion when he had possessed her.

  Oh, she had been showing all the trappings of a bewitching enchantress, but she realized suddenly that she had never felt truly feminine with anyone except William.

  He said not a word. His eyes and his movements spoke eloquently.

  And then it was over. He was bowing over her hand, and a faint buzzing in her ears grew louder before she awoke from her trance to encounter a round of applause from the onlookers directed toward Sophie and her partner. She curtsied gracefully.

  And then, just as she wondered how she would gain the courage to refuse his certain request to see her again, he was gone with only one fleeting but poignant searching look.

  Sophie blessed the mass of people exiting the dance floor for blocking any steps toward him her weak side was screaming for her to make.

  Lord Drummond stepped before her. "My dear Miss Somerset, allow me to lead you back to your family if I cannot persuade you to dance the next set with me?" he asked, hope filling his face.

  She shook her head briefly.

  "Blasted inconsiderate devil not to escort you back to your aunt, if you were to ask me."

  "Yes, you are right."

  "Who was he?"

  "I can't say." For some reason she didn't want him or anyone to know.

  Lord Drummond grumbled further. "I would have asked you to waltz earlier if I had known it was you under that costume. I've been searching for you all evening." They edged between a circle of acquaintances to join Mari.

  Sophie felt her usual gaiety slipping precariously. "Would you be so kind as to bring me some lemonade, my lord?"

  "Why, of course," he said, depositing her next to Mari. "Your wish is my every command. And when I return I must be allowed to exhibit more poetry so you shall feel obliged to dance with me or at least ride with me tomorrow morning. I hear tell"—and here he winked at Mari—"that you have a heretofore unknown habit of rising with the sun to partake in most unladylike gallops in the park."

  "Yes, yes. Of course, sir." Sophie was willing to say just about anything to free herself from the necessity of conversing with him or anyone. She just wanted to take her leave of the entertainment to put as much distance as possible between her and—well, him.

  Lost in thought, Sophie barely noticed Mr. Mornington asking Mari for the next set.

  William knew not how he would force an opportunity to see Sophie again, but see her he would, whether it entailed spying on her twenty-four hours of every day or storming the flock of liveried footman guarding her at her aunt's townhouse. Elation had filled him when she had responded to him within the circle of his arms. He'd seen it in the depths of her eyes. His greatest fear the past month had been that she had excised him from her heart. It would have been only natural. But, it seems his luck was returning, and he knew as any good gambler that one must press the advantage when Lady Luck rode on one's shoulder.

  A quick search of the garden and outer halls did not unearth his faithful valet-cum-courtesan. At least Charles was in evidence, now dancing and soon to be wooing his ladylove on the terrace. William wandered back into the house all the while wondering if his friend would bungle the delicate mating ritual known as the marriage proposal much as he himself had done.

  His search took him to the inner sanctum of the jaded gentlemen's sect, the card room. Those few who were too tired or bored to partake in the frenzied revelry of the masquerade populated the room, illuminated by a single taper within a candelabra heavily coated with wax drippings.

  There, his wig tipping slightly, sat Jack on a divan, hand-feeding Mrs. Tickle from a plate of choice morsels.

  William skirted the two tables of card players to join his valet. He could not help but overhear the conversation coming from the nearest table of four. He recognized a blond gentleman as the lord who'd had the misfortune of wagering a certain sum against William and his brother Alex in a protracted game of whist last Season. It had been the sum that had allowed William to pursue his dream of rebuilding his family's fortune.

  "Playing cards is a lot like dealing with women, don't you know?" The gentleman sneered as he rearranged his diminishing counters on the green baize table.

  "Do tell, Coddington," said Lord Acton, one of the other gentlemen sprawled before the table.

  "Why, usually when you pick one up, you wish you hadn't."

  A round of brandy-soaked chuckles circled the close quarters.

  "Take the too tall and overblown form of the infamous Miss S," Lord Coddington continued in slurred tones.

  An elderly gentleman leaned forward and asked his neighbor, "Who's he referring to, now?"

  "The Hoyden Heiress," the other said with a knowing look.

  "She shows her mud-flat origins with her ostrich height, and vulgar actress-like physique," Coddington replied, shaking his head and reaching for a card. "I surely wish my father hadn't forced me to pick that one up. Although to be fair, I suppose I shouldn't complain. When I take her to the altar, ere long, I'll not only gain her fortune but her delightful little maid as well."

  "So you've gotten past the draconian aunt and landed the big fish have you?" Coddington's contemporary, Lord Acton, leaned forward in excitement. "I'd say it's rather time to celebrate. How's about a house party on your soon-to-be Cornwallis estate instead of your standard honeymoon, man? I could round out the numbers with a few friends and we could have a rousing good game."

  Coddington smirked as he dealt the cards. "That's a capital idea. But"—here he leaned forward with a shrewd look on his face—"only after I have my fun with the maid. She shall be my reward for the hours of tedium I'll be forced to endure with the Amazon slut."

  If Will had had a dagger, he would have slit the man's throat faster than the conspirators he had dispatched for the English government. As it was, Will hoisted Coddington to his
feet and slapped his gloves in the man's face, catching his knuckles and signet ring on the man's jaw on purpose. He grabbed Coddington's lapels and made a primitive growl, "You'll meet me on Primrose Hill tomorrow, dawn, where you might find it necessary to revise your matrimonial plans in lieu of a rendezvous with your maker."

  "Ah, one of Miss Somerset's many suitors, I presume?" Coddington mocked. "I've sampled her wares and can't fathom what all the fuss is about. You may have her all you want after she gets an heir off me. No need to fight over her. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

  The bugger's cowardly acquaintances had the good sense to depart at the first sign of discord. Only the cardplayers at the other side of the large room remained.

  William gripped the man tighter. "You've less than six hours to make your peace with the world, and if I were you, I'd be less worried about my name and more concerned about choosing the method by which I'll put an end to your pathetic existence. I shall see you at dawn, sir." William spat out the last word as if poison. He released Coddington roughly.

  "I rather fancy swords. Won't waste a good bullet on you, I think," replied Coddington. The blond man suddenly swiped at William's head, dislodging the mask and exposing Will's face. "Ah, why Lord William of the notorious Barclay family—of mixed blood of course. A card cheat, stealer of fortunes and now, what, a defender of trollops? I'm not surprised. One can always count on a traitorous half-breed Frenchman to—"

  His words were cut short by the abrupt scraping back of chairs at the distant table. Out of the corner of his eye, William saw the hulking forms of the three Tolworth relatives who'd been prowling London since William's escape.

  Soon Will found his role reversed. The beefy arms of Tolworth and his nephew and cousin grasped him.

  Coddington laughed heartily and rearranged his neckwear. "Why, I see you have a horde of friends joining us this evening. How convenient."

  "You've avoided your responsibilities in Yorkshire long enough Lord William, don't you think?" asked Tolworth. "If you had thought to hide from us, you misjudged the matter. If you survive our affaire of honor on the morrow, you'll be singing to the parson in Scotland in three days time."