Will chuckled at the naked interest cast in his direction. Perhaps a more sophisticated gentleman would take it in stride, but he answered curious stares with grins and sometimes even a saucy wink. Most ladies glanced away in a show of indifference, but more often than not their gazes returned to make sure he was still watching. He found the entire exercise deliciously amusing.
One extraordinarily pretty brunette seemed to take his brash demeanor as an invitation. She rode over and gave him an admiring glance. Before he could speak, she addressed his ward.
“Good morning, Bethany. Will you introduce me to your friend?”
“How lovely to see you, Magenta.” Miss Christensen’s laugh was one Will had never heard before—an odd, rather strangled sound. “Jane and I have a new guardian.” She gestured toward Will. “Mr. Willoughby Winter.”
The woman’s inky black lashes fluttered. “Hello, Mr. Winter. I’ve heard so much about you, sir, and all of it exceedingly promising.”
This was the woman Miss Christensen had been eager for him to meet?
“Is that so?” He smiled. “I shall endeavor to live up to my reputation.”
Masters gave the woman a curt nod. “Hello, Miss Urban.” His glance flickered to Will. “It seems my friends have been delayed and I’m not sure they will come at all. Shall we ride?”
Will touched his hat. “I’m at your service.”
Miss Urban’s smile was flirtatious. “Would you mind awfully if I ride with you, Mr. Winter? I’m all alone this morning.”
Her forward manner bothered Will, but he nodded in a gracious fashion. “I would be honored to have your company.”
The quartet set off with Miss Christensen and Masters riding up ahead and Will and Miss Urban bringing up the rear. Will sought to remember what his ward had told him about his riding partner.
“Miss Christensen mentioned your interest in art.”
The woman’s lips parted. “Bethany spoke of me, did she? Indeed, I enjoy painting. You’re an artist as well, I’ve heard? Where are you from?”
“Gisburn, originally, but I left as a young lad.”
“And your parents, are they still there?”
“They are.” He sought to change the subject back to her. “As an artist, what is your favorite medium?”
Although he carried his end of the conversation with Miss Urban, Will kept one eye trained on Miss Christensen and her companion. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but it was clear from the way Masters’s head was angled toward Miss Christensen that he wished to curry her favor. The man’s attentions set Will’s teeth on edge, although he had no right to resent them. He must swallow his impulse to brush Masters off and make an effort to play a guardian who had only his ward’s best interest at heart.
He gave a dazzling smile to the obviously practiced flirt alongside him, who had undoubtedly been kissed more times than a grandmother’s cheek at Christmastime. Either Miss Christensen was hopelessly naive regarding Miss Urban’s lack of virtue or the lady had persuaded her otherwise. If this was the woman his ward thought would be to his taste, she evidently believed him to be exceedingly uncultured and base. Perhaps he was both, but he’d been at least attempting to elevate himself. Despite his indifference, he redoubled his efforts to become acquainted with Miss Urban. It would be best if he at least feigned interest in the lady, so Miss Christensen would not suspect his affections were already completely, utterly, hopelessly captivated by someone else.
∞∞∞
Although Bethany could not hear what was said between Magenta and Will, the sound of Magenta’s vivacious laughter made her grip the reins of her mount more tightly. When she stole a surreptitious glance back at the couple, the acquaintance between them seemed to be proceeding apace. Despite her dismay, she forced herself to focus her attention on the man at her side. Nick was as animated as she’d ever seen him, gossiping about mutual acquaintances and various scandals that had occurred since the Season began. His conversation struck her as shallow and silly, but perhaps it was her fault for not drawing him out.
She frowned. “Tell me something intimate about yourself, Mr. Masters. What was the worst calamity to have happened in your childhood?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Heavens, there were several.”
Bethany’s interest was piqued. “Really? You never mentioned them before.”
“You never inquired. Let’s see…when I was a lad of seven, I quarreled with my nanny and conspired to have her discharged. I was awfully sorry about it later when the next nanny proved to be worse.”
“Oh.” Bethany glanced away. “I was referring to something tragic that might have changed your character.”
“I had a rather happy childhood, I suppose.” He paused. “The most tragic thing in my life was the loss of your friendship. I can honestly say I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “What happened is of little consequence now.”
His expression brightened. “Are you saying I’m forgiven?”
“Since people may expect to have several passing fancies in their youth, I’m saying there is nothing to forgive.”
Nick gazed at her. “My fancy for you never passed, Bethany.”
A blush of embarrassment heated her skin. “Mr. Masters, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters.”
He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because your guardian is near?”
Bethany looked at him askance. “No, because your most recent passing fancy is within earshot.”
“Magenta was a mistake, I assure you. There is nothing between us now.” He threw back his shoulders. “May I call on you? I realize I must work to win back your esteem, but I’m willing to do whatever I must.”
Bethany sighed. Although her enthusiasm for Nick was muted at the moment, she could ill afford to dismiss him out of hand. Her inconvenient and embarrassing feelings for her guardian made it increasingly critical that she establish the appearance of an attachment.
“Are you attending Lady Hearst’s ball next Thursday?”
Nick nodded. “Indeed, I am.”
“In that case, let’s talk more about our future then. I’m in no mood to make any promises at present.”
“May I claim the first dance?”
She smiled. “Of course, Mr. Masters. I would be honored.”
“Excellent.” He beamed. “As long as I may have hope, I am the happiest of men.”
Bethany tried not to roll her eyes. She used to take pleasure in Nick’s boyish looks and light-hearted conversation. Now, she was wondering why he couldn’t be more like Will.
∞∞∞
Will glanced over at Miss Christensen as they left Hyde Park. “Did you have an enjoyable time with Mr. Masters?”
Her smile was bright. “Yes, indeed. Apparently, I missed a great deal of intrigue while I was away.”
He frowned. “Intrigue?”
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “Elopements, rows, unexpected romances. Things like that.” Miss Christensen paused. “I’m so glad you were able to spend time with Miss Urban. She’s a famous beauty and her clothes are always in style.”
Will feigned as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “Absolutely. We talked about painting, and she told me the name of a shop where I could procure a drafting table.”
Her eyebrows rose. “What a marvelous idea.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Are we to expect a visit from Mr. Masters before long?”
“He has made his wishes plain but I asked him to wait until after Lady Hearst’s ball. I need time to consider my feelings on the matter. Furthermore, I did not want to appear too eager for his company.”
“Good idea.” Will nodded. “‘She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won.’”
Miss Christensen gave him a startled glance. “What’s that from?”
“Henry VI, Part 1.”
“Oh? I’m not that familiar with Shakes
peare’s historical works.”
“Neither am I, to be perfectly truthful.” He shrugged. “I merely painted the backdrop for the Temple-garden.”
Miss Christensen’s laugh was full-throated and lovely, and the sound of it lifted his soul.
“You really are diverting, Mr. Winter.”
“I’m very glad you think so.”
He was obliged to rein in his horse when a thin woman carrying a basket of flowers suddenly darted into the street and thrust a cone of violets up at him. Her eyes and tone of voice were beseeching as she cried, “Flowers for the beautiful lady, sir?”
Will reached into his waistcoat pocket for a coin and handed it to the woman. “I’ll take two.”
“Bless you, sir.” She gave him a second bunch of violets. “Let me get your change.”
A police officer came into view and Will jerked his head to the side. “Never mind the change. Best be off with you before the copper arrives.”
The woman scampered away, calling over her shoulder, “You’re a real gentleman, so you are!”
Will chuckled as he presented the violets to Miss Christensen. “One for you and one for Miss Jane.”
She held the flowers up to her nose and took a deep whiff. “Mmm…beautiful. You’re very kind. The flower vendor was quite right, you know. You have become a gentleman.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes flickered toward his ward, whose lovely features seemed to glow in the early morning light. In that moment, something fundamental shifted within him and his soul was set ablaze.
He gave her a crooked smile. “It seems peculiar to me that I might have seen you on Rotten Row before, in my capacity as an artist.”
Miss Christensen smiled. “Perhaps you did.”
“Impossible. I have an eye for beauty. If I had seen you, I would have remembered.”
Her smile faded. “You’re flirting with me, Mr. Winter.” She stared straight ahead. “I thought we’d established that as dangerous.”
He recoiled. “Quite so. I shall lock my door tonight, out of an abundance of caution.”
Miss Christensen’s answering glare made him laugh. Underneath his merriment, however, Will was terribly confused. Despite his protestations to the contrary, he had indeed been flirting—but to what end? His clothes and manners might pass for those of a gentleman, but he had more in common with the flower vendor than an educated, sophisticate like Nicholas Masters. As much as it pained him to admit it, his ward was far better matched with her former suitor than with a largely illiterate man born on the wrong side of the blanket.
∞∞∞
As Angela reached the end of the tunnel, she ran headlong into a mass of vines growing over the entrance. She bit back a scream at the unexpected impediment and began clawing them aside. The sound of waves reached her ears and the tangy smell of saltwater tickled her nostrils. Before she was completely clear of the vines, she gasped at the report of gunfire. A few yards off, she heard Mr. Wylde grunt in pain, and her heart jumped into her throat.
“Garrison, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Get out of this tunnel.”
“The entrance is covered by vegetation.”
In the next moment, he was by her side with the knife he always kept on his belt. He reached up and sawed at the vines with vigor.
Angela felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”
His response was terse. “No.”
“I’m so glad.” She drew a relieved breath. “When I heard another gunshot, I was worried you’d been hit.”
Once enough vines fell away to create a slender opening, Mr. Wylde put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward.
“Out with you, my love.” He fell to one knee.
“You are hurt!”
Angela reached toward him, but he scowled. “Out! I’ll be along once I’ve dealt with the threat.” He stood. “Go now…please. I must know you’re safe.”
As tears rolled down her face, she slipped through the opening in the vines. When her feet sank into soft sand, she knew she was free. She glanced around in the moonlit darkness and darted toward a shadowy alcove off to one side. After she’d pressed herself against the sheltering rock, she sent up a desperate prayer for God to keep Garrison Wylde alive.
Minerva entered the bedroom and cast a curious glance in Bethany’s direction. “Are you still working, Miss Christensen? I would have thought you might be taking a bath.”
“What?” Bethany frowned for a moment…until she remembered the musical soiree on her schedule. “Oh, heavens, I’d forgotten about Lord and Lady Jensen’s party. Start the bath for me, Minerva.”
As the maid hastened into the adjoining bathroom, Bethany hurriedly wiped her pen and capped the inkwell. Although she would dearly love to know what happened to poor Mr. Wylde, his survival would have to wait.
∞∞∞
Will held a book in his hands while Mr. Pace dressed him for the evening. “Ah, here is the perfect nursery rhyme for this evening. ‘Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross, to see an old lady upon a white horse.’”
Mr. Pace chuckled and continued the rhyme from memory. “Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes, and so she makes music wherever she goes.”
“I see you have heard this one before.” Will closed the book and set it aside. “What exactly happens at a musical soiree, Mr. Pace?”
The valet was giving a pair of cufflinks a last-minute polish. “Ladies exhibit their talents, for the most part, and gentlemen are expected to react with appreciation and awe.”
Will’s eyebrows drew together. “You don’t suppose I’ll be obliged to sing or any such nonsense?”
“Not unless you wish to do so, although gentlemen often sing or play instruments at these affairs. Do you do either?”
“I sing in church, but I shouldn’t like to make a spectacle of myself at a gathering. I should much rather ogle the guests and make impertinent remarks.”
“In that case, you should fit right in.”
A few minutes later, Will descended to the drawing room to await Miss Christensen’s arrival. Although he felt as if he ought to be apprehensive about the evening, he couldn’t work himself up to be concerned. He chuckled when he remembered how skittish he’d been before his first dinner at Lansings Lodge. Perhaps he was more concerned with his wards’ opinions than for the opinions of strangers. Even so, he was determined to put his best foot forward.
He moved over to the piano, lifted the fall, and pressed a few of the keys. Miss Christensen had said she intended to play that evening and he was looking forward to her performance with great anticipation.
Jane traipsed into the drawing room. “Bethany is coming down the stairs. Get ready!”
Will quickly lowered the fall and struck a pose next to Jane. “I am braced for anything.”
Moments later, Miss Christensen arrived, clad in a dinner gown of silvery-gray taffeta, with a periwinkle underskirt and embroidery. Her elaborate coiffure featured a jeweled comb, and the pearls at her neck had an amethyst and opal pendant with diamond baguettes. After he recovered from his initial stupefaction, he sketched an elaborate bow.
“I do believe I must be in the midst of a dream, Miss Christensen.”
Jane reached over to squeeze the skin of his wrist between her thumb and forefinger.
Will laughed as he snatched his hand away. “What are you doing?”
Jane grinned. “Pinching you, so you know for sure.”
“Is that so?” Will made a face. “I’ll pinch you back!”
He gave a comical snarl and pretended to lunge in her direction. Jane shrieked with laughter as she darted behind her elder sister, who shook her head.
“If you two are done pinching each other, it’s time to leave for the party.”
Will instantly assumed a dignified posture. “The time for pinching is over, Miss Jane. I must now behave in a proper fashion and aspire to join good society.”
“I’ll come check on
you when I get in.” Miss Christensen gave Jane a hug.
∞∞∞
As Will and Miss Christensen stood in the receiving line at the soiree, he could not keep his eyes off her beauty. “You truly look stunning.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “Since Minerva did an outstanding job with my hair tonight, I will take you at your word. Thank you.”
The line moved forward.
His gaze dropped to the pendant at her throat. “That necklace suits you perfectly.”
One of her gloved hands lifted to touch the jewel. “It was my mother’s, actually. She wore it on her wedding day. You may expect to see it again at my wedding…when you give me away.”
A pang lanced through him. “Have you definitely decided in Masters’s favor, then?”
Miss Christensen tossed her head. “You’ve made your wishes plain. I didn’t think I had a choice.”
They were obliged to step forward again.
He shrugged. “Perhaps if there was another chap you fancied, I might be persuaded in another direction.”
Her blue eyes widened. “This is the first time you’ve indicated your position might be malleable.”
Another step forward.
He cleared his throat. “If you should happen to fall in love with a suitable prospect, naturally I would consider your feelings.”
Miss Christensen cocked her head. “Would you consider my feelings dispositive on the subject?”
“Well…the chap would also have to possess good character and financial stability. In addition, he must be head over heels in love with you, of course.” He frowned. “Preferably not overly fond of drink and few other vices.”
“How awfully dull.” She paused. “I’d far rather have someone dangerous.”
His spine straightened, but before he could respond, the line moved forward and it was time to meet the host and hostess for the evening.
∞∞∞
Bethany was uncertain if Will had taken her meaning, but after all their talk of dangerous flirtation, he would have been a dullard if he had not. For the next half-hour, she introduced him to guests at the soiree, but what would he say once they were alone once more? She was torn between hoping he ignored the comment and wishing for him to take it as an invitation.
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