And then the one man that Leonora had been trying to keep away from her friend, marched across to a vacant seat that stood to Amy’s left and promptly folded himself into it. It was a disaster. Out of options, Leonora served Redfirn one seething glance before marching across to the chair he’d initially designated for her. She didn’t glance in his direction when he came to sit beside her though she was painfully aware of his presence—she would have had to be dead not to notice the way his shoulder and thigh brushed against her, and consequently, her fan was swiftly put to good use.
The music started with the notes of the overture rising through the air, the curtain was slowly raised, and Leonora was momentarily distracted by the soprano who stepped out onto the stage—right until she felt Lord Redfirn’s warm breath against her neck. “My apologies, my lady,” he murmured with a cadence that sent shivers racing down her spine and straight toward . . . Heavens. The sensations that were presently scurrying through her body were really quite indecent. She shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat while Redfirn leaned closer still and lowered his voice even further. “There was little I could do to avoid his presence without being purposefully rude.”
“I know,” she replied in a hushed tone meant only for his ears. She didn’t turn her head in his direction as she spoke, however, fearful of the monocular-watching dragons and other gossipmongers who were only looking for the tiniest excuse to spin a juicy tale.
Silence followed for several moments after as the soprano embraced her aria with a voice that Leonora feared would only encourage most of the mamas present to become more persistent in regard to their daughters’ music lessons. But no matter how lovely the performance taking place on the stage was, Leonora was finding it practically impossible to focus. On the one hand, there was Amy for her to worry about. Being seated next to Grenly would not encourage the suitors whom Leonora had in mind for her. On the other hand, she couldn’t ignore Lord Redfirn’s company. He might have decided to pay more attention to the opera than to her, but she was nonetheless acutely aware of his rather masculine presence.
Another torturous forty-five minutes, and the first act finally drew to an end. With a deep sigh of relief, Leonora rose from her seat. “Would any of you like to join me for a refreshment? I find that I am verily parched.” She then looked directly at Amy, hoping that her friend would understand her meaning.
As luck would have it, Lord Redfirn was the first to answer with, “What a wonderful idea. What say you, Lady Amy? Care for something to drink?”
“Thank you for asking, my lord, but I’m really quite content.” She must have seen Leonora’s helpless expression, for she hastily went on to say, “Don’t let that keep you, though—we’ll be quite all right until you return.”
“But . . . but . . .” Leonora found herself stammering. “You cannot—nay you must not—be alone with him, Amy. Think of your reputation.”
And then the unfathomable happened. Amy, who had otherwise seemed so quiet and docile, speared Leonora with a very sharp stare. “We are in full view of at least one hundred people. I daresay that nobody will bat as much as an eyelid.” And then she smiled and waved her hand, effectively dismissing Leonora completely. “Go on—Lord Redfirn will keep you company.”
Leonora felt as though she’d just bit into a very sour lemon, but what was she to do? She couldn’t throw Grenly out of Redfirn’s box without causing a scandal. Redfirn . . . that was it. Surely he would help her if she turned to him. Refusing to give up on Amy’s future—even though Amy herself appeared shockingly disinterested in making a proper match for herself—she placed her hand on the arm Redfirn offered her and allowed him to steer her out into the vestibule.
“WE HAVE TO do something,” Lady Leonora said as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Hm?”
“About Lady Amy and Mr. Grenly,” she explained. “I don’t believe they’re right for each other, and what’s worse, it’s become impossible for poor Amy to meet other eligible young gentlemen when Mr. Grenly is always there.” She made an elaborate gesture with her hands that all but indicated that Grenly was somehow omnipresent.
Redfirn suppressed a smile. “From what I’ve seen, Lady Amy seems quite taken with Grenly.”
Lady Leonora rolled her eyes. “What is she to think when she doesn’t know any better? Lady Amy has no experience with being courted—it’s only natural for her to be charmed by the first attentive gentleman who comes along.”
Redfirn stopped walking, effectively halting Lady Leonora too. She turned a questioning gaze on him. Whatever her motive for putting a stop to Lady Amy and Grenly’s acquaintance, she was clearly incapable of seeing the truth of it all—that Lady Amy and Grenly were not only perfectly suited for one another, but that they both desired to be together. Why Lady Leonora was so opposed to their union was beyond him. It was time to steer the conversation in a different direction altogether. “And what of you, Lady Leonora?” he asked, giving in to his roguish streak. “Do you know better?”
Her lips drew together in that delightful little pout she always managed whenever she was miffed. The deep blush that had rapidly begun to rise in her cheeks, however, could hardly be ignored. “This is not an appropriate topic of conversation,” she said, lowering her voice to a soft whisper.
“I feel inclined to point out, that you, my lady, were the one to bring it up.” This earned a gasp. Emboldened by her discomfort, which to his way of thinking could only suggest that he must be having quite an effect on her, he said, “Be that as it may, I certainly have no issue with telling you that I do know better. My experience with women is hardly what one would call limited, and . . . Please don’t look away.” In spite of the fact that she appeared to be in the process of planning her escape, she did comply, turning her lovely brown eyes toward him. He smiled—not because he was trying to manipulate her in any way but simply because he couldn’t help it. “What I wished to say is that you are, without a shadow of a doubt, the loveliest woman I have ever seen.”
Her expression was worth every word. He’d spoken the truth, but not without some measure of uncertainty and fear. After all, one hardly made such claims unless one intended to further one’s relationship. It was a topic he’d pondered for some time already, but in light of the fact that he’d thoroughly enjoyed Lady Leonora’s company for the past few weeks and looked forward to seeing her with great anticipation, this seemed like the next logical step. Naturally, there was also a more elementary reason. Indeed, he really wasn’t sleeping well at all lately, what with all his imaginings about kissing her and undressing her and what she might look like, feel like, taste like . . . It was a torture unlike any he’d ever known before.
It was probably a full minute since he’d made his declaration, and still she did not speak, but simply stood there staring back at him, so he leaned a little closer, and whispered, “Would it offend you if I called you Nora?”
She shivered a little in response and finally shook her head. “Not at all,” she breathed. And then she smiled—a smile meant only for him—and it made him feel as though he were ten feet tall.
“In that case, you may call me Connor, if you like. Or Redfirn—that’s fine too.” She nodded as if in a daze. Reaching the refreshment table, he wasted little time in procuring two glasses of Champagne for them. “And if you will permit, I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon to officially commence our courtship with an outing to Hallidan’s Picture Gallery. My mother will be happy to chaperone.”
“That would be lovely,” she said as she took a careful sip of her Champagne.
Regarding her with the admiration and fondness he’d developed for her during the course of their blossoming friendship, his smile broadened into a helpless grin. Things were looking up for him—he would soon be rid of Wolfston, and with a lovely bride to make the entire ordeal worth every minute. A splendid outcome indeed!
Chapter Seven
“I MUST SAY, Nora, that when we first made you a part of The Ring
of Protectors and put Lady Amy in your care, we never imagined that it would turn out quite like this.”
Leonora cringed. The duchess and her friends had good reason to be disappointed with her. She’d assured them all that she would find a most eligible young gentleman for her charge, and instead she’d ended up with Grenly. How it had gone so terribly wrong, she wasn’t quite sure. With no idea of what to say, she reached for her teacup and took a tentative sip.
“In less than a month,” the Duchess of Arbergail continued, “Lady Amy has been seen with Mr. Grenly repeatedly, and from what you tell me, it does indeed appear as though a proposal is forthcoming.”
“Yes,” Leonora nodded glumly. “It seems so.”
“Well, you really must be commended for your efforts, Nora. None of us expected such a speedy outcome.”
Leonora froze, her hand reaching for one of the biscuits on the table before her. Abandoning the treat, she leaned back in her seat instead and turned what she was sure must have been a most confused expression on the duchess. “I beg your pardon?”
The Duchess of Arbergail smiled. “When we handed Lady Amy over to your care, it was intended as a test. Not that there’s anything wrong with her, mind you, but her height and her shyness don’t work well in her favor. Gentlemen tend to prefer women who are shorter than they are—I believe it helps to reassure their sense of masculinity.”
“So you approve of Mr. Grenly then?”
“Oh absolutely.” The duchess’s expression turned to something that could only be considered wise. “He’s taken a genuine liking to her, and she too seems quite smitten. Additionally, he shall be able to provide for her rather well, not to mention that whatever he might lack in regard to grace, he certainly seems to make up for in kindness. Indeed, it is my assessment that the two are rather perfect for one another—I’m surprised none of us noticed it sooner.”
“I just . . .” Leonora bit her bottom lip. “I had hoped that Lady Amy might marry an earl at the very least.”
The Duchess of Arbergail chuckled. “My dear, you mustn’t lose sight of what The Ring of Protectors is about. It’s not about you proving yourself by marrying your charge off to the man with the best title. It’s about facilitating a match that both parties will not only be happy with, but that they are both likely to benefit from. It’s about Lady Amy’s future, Nora, and if Mr. Grenly is the man she wants for herself, then it would be wrong of you to try to prevent it. She’s the one marrying him after all—not you.”
Oh dear.
Leonora felt like a complete snob. She’d believed all along that she was acting with Amy’s best interests at heart—except deep down she knew she hadn’t been. Instead, she’d treated poor Grenly most rudely. There was nothing for it; she would simply have to apologize to the man and perhaps try to make up for her meddling nature by helping Amy select a stunning wedding gown as soon as Grenly asked for her hand—which he would. There was no doubt about that.
“And while we’re on the subject of paramours and such,” the duchess said with a wry twist to her lips. “I couldn’t help but notice that Lord Redfirn seems to be showing quite an interest in you.”
Leonora felt herself blush all the way to the roots of her hair. “He made his intentions known to me the other evening at the theatre and has, with my permission, begun courting me. Unfortunately, with Papa being away, there was nobody for him to turn to, so I was rather hoping that you and the duke might oblige in that regard— should it come to that.”
“Most assuredly. I shall anticipate the moment with great enthusiasm. Oh, Nora, your mother would be so happy for you.” The Duchess of Arbergail’s mouth broadened into a wry smile. “He must be quite fond of you indeed. Only a man completely smitten would buy such a costly gift for a lady he’s not yet betrothed to.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was keeping an eye on you, my dear, so I refrained from saying anything, but when Lady Edgewater told me that her husband had seen Lord Redfirn at Hardy’s Bookshop, I quickly put two and two together. Apparently, he made quite a fuss about having the books he’d picked out wrapped in a manner that would please a certain lady that he was buying them for.” Leonora could do nothing but stare back at the duchess in horror. “Frankly, I couldn’t be more pleased—he’s such a fine-looking gentleman.”
“Did Lady Edgewater happen to know which books he picked?” Leonora asked, though her heart had already dropped to her toes. Lord Redfirn, it seemed, had used her most efficiently to his advantage. She’d been right. There had been someone else behind Grenly’s sudden success, and she’d been so bloody enamored of him that she’d been made blind. Damn Lord Redfirn and his dashing good looks. She kept a steady eye trained on the duchess. There was still hope—she could mention Shakespeare, or even someone as controversial as that Wollstonecraft woman. Just not Plato. Anything but Plato.
“I believe she mentioned philosophy.” Leonora found herself holding her breath while the duchess took another sip of her tea. “Ah yes, I remember now—it was a collection of Plato.”
And just like that, Leonora felt her heart break, taking whatever hope she’d had along with it.
Chapter Eight
The Hedgewick Christmas Ball
Two weeks later
CONNOR GLANCED AROUND the ballroom. It had been beautifully decorated with fir garlands hanging along the length of every wall—the rich, green accented by the occasional red bow. Bordering on the scandalous, a bunch of holly and mistletoe, tied neatly with golden ribbons, hung directly above each doorway. Connor wasn’t surprised. Lady Hedgewick was famous for causing mischief. He wondered if she would mind that he’d taken one of the mistletoes and tucked it away in his pocket, should he happen to need it later, deciding after a moment’s speculation that it was unlikely she would.
Feeling restless, he shifted between his feet. After repeatedly being turned away unceremoniously by Lady Leonora’s butler, he’d grown increasingly agitated. The fact that he couldn’t get her out of his mind did not help. What the devil had gone wrong? They’d been getting along famously, and he’d been confident that whatever attraction he felt toward her had been reciprocated. Could he have been mistaken? He frowned a little as he considered the prospect—then shook his head. No, he didn’t think so.
There was only one explanation that came to mind—Lady Leonora must have gotten wind of his interference regarding Grenly and Lady Amy. He wasn’t sure how it might have happened, but he ought to have been wise enough to know that it eventually would. It required supreme stealth to get by the gossipmongers unnoticed. For some unfathomable reason, news of an event always seemed to precede the actual event itself.
Stepping aside to allow a couple of debutantes past, he responded to their shy smiles and fluttering eyelashes with a scowl, which had the immediate effect of sending them scurrying—much to his great satisfaction. He took a heartfelt sip of his Champagne and cast another glance toward the door. Where the devil was she? He’d been told she’d be in attendance this evening, and if he was going to stand any chance in hell of becoming mentally sound once more, he simply had to see her again. He had to explain himself and apologize and . . . and tell her how he felt about her.
“You needn’t guard the entrance so doggedly, Redfirn.” It was Penningham, of course—sharply dressed as always though with a rather annoying smile upon his lips. “She’ll be here.”
Connor attempted a careless shrug. “An entrance may also be used as an exit—I was merely staying close to it in case I happened to spot a mama towing her daughter in my general direction.”
“Is that so? Then why not position yourself closer to the terrace doors instead? Surely, that would be far more convenient?”
“And have said mama convince her young daughter to follow me outside as I attempt my escape? No thank you. We all know how many young and unsuspecting gentlemen have been carted off to the altar in precisely that manner. I shan’t be one of them.”
P
enningham at least had the good grace to laugh rather than roll his eyes as the situation might have demanded. Connor took another sip of his drink. He was well aware that Penningham knew precisely what he was about, but it didn’t hurt to try to maintain one’s dignity, for heaven’s sake. Turning his head in the direction of the dance floor, he spotted Lady Amy and Grenly, who were presently in the middle of a rather rambunctious reel and appeared to be having a marvelously good time, no matter their missteps. Everything aside, the two were indeed quite perfect for one another.
Grenly had visited him directly following his proposal, which had, as Connor expected it would, resulted in an immediate “yes” from Lady Amy. They were presently in the process of planning a March wedding from what Connor had been able to gather. And, of course, the topping on the whole sweet affair had been that Connor had finally been able to shake hands with Wolfston and bid him good riddance although the old earl had definitely been in one of his cheerier moods—indeed, he’d appeared quite transformed from his blunt old self. The prospect of numerous grandbabies undoubtedly had something to do with that. Long live the line of succession!
“Isn’t that her?” Penningham’s voice brought Connor’s head swiveling around on his neck. “Heaven help me—I believe I’m in love.”
It took a moment for Connor to spot Lady Leonora, but once he did, he could well imagine every man present that evening falling on their knees for her. She looked ravishing—like a fine strawberry tart or some other sweet confection. He hastily elbowed Penningham in the ribs. “Best forget about it, old chap. She’s mine.” He then strode forward with the determination of a man who’d just crossed the desert and spotted a watering hole.
LEONORA’S STOMACH WAS a cacophony of jittery nerves. She was certain Lord Redfirn would be there this evening, and no matter how many times she’d considered feigning a headache and staying at home, she knew that she had to venture back out in public sooner or later. It simply couldn’t be helped. But if she was going to put in an appearance, then she’d certainly do so with style. It had taken no less than five wardrobe changes and three different attempts at her hair to achieve the desired effect. She had to admit that she was rather pleased with the end result. The gold lace with the creamy silk beneath it had quite a lovely effect. There was only one problem in fact—she’d realized on her way over in the carriage that she’d picked the gown with only Lord Redfirn in mind. It was most infuriating.
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