Later, he had been too embarrassed to admit to his friends that he—a man of twenty—had spent the afternoon in the company of a scrawny fourteen-year-old girl, rather than joining them at the races. What had really embarrassed him, though, was how much he had enjoyed himself. After that day, he began avoiding Miss Vallie Bell. It had been easier than sorting through his confusion surrounding her appeal.
“I will need a replacement for your sister.” Langley’s voice startled Alex, and reminded him that he still was saddled with the man. The duke turned cool eyes on him. “Do you have any recommendations?”
He doubted the duke would like his recommendations, which all ended in Langley taking a leap from something tall. “I make a habit of avoiding debutantes, remember?” Alex snapped. He was unreasonably bothered by the mention of his preferences for widows in Miss Bell’s presence. Langley had made him sound like a first rate scoundrel.
“I suppose you are an unlikely source to turn to for assistance.” Langley lips twitched as he returned to scanning the ballroom, leaving Alex with the impression the duke was purposely trying to rile him.
“Perhaps you should ask your mama,” Alex mumbled. After all, the duke’s mother had been organizing Langley’s life for some time now.
The insult was lost on the duke, however. He simply nodded. “Perhaps you are correct.” Langley wandered away, freeing Alex from his duties.
He scratched the damp skin where prickles climbed the back of his neck. He hoped his father wouldn’t ask him how he’d managed with Langley. Father wouldn’t be pleased with Alex’s performance—cleaning out the duke’s pockets at the card table, insulting his superior—hardly the actions of a man trying to keep the peace between their families. But Langley rubbed him the wrong way. Always had. And never more so than this evening when he had dismissed Miss Bell as if she were insignificant.
His gaze strayed to the ballroom entrance, waiting for Miss Bell’s return. He hoped she hadn’t been hurt in the fall. Once he could see for himself Elle’s friend was uninjured, he could put her from his mind and focus his attention on finding a lady to help him forget his failure with the duke this evening.
The moments stretched out as he waited. Surely she’d had enough time to set herself back to rights by now. Damn! What trouble has the chit landed in now?
Alex took a step toward the exit to go find her when she appeared in the doorway looking like an angel in her white silk gown. She walked briskly with her head down toward the row of wallflowers lined up along the crimson wall. Alex cocked a brow as she slipped into an empty seat and checked her dance card. Her shoulders rounded for a moment before she dropped the card and wiggled into an upright position, her head held high.
Why is she sitting with the wallflowers? Miss Bell might not be classically beautiful by Society’s standards, but she was far from unappealing with her heart-shaped face and reddish blonde curls. In fact, he found her quite pleasing.
The corners of his mouth turned up. Her hair had been sinfully soft against his wrist when he adjusted her headpiece. What a glorious sight it must be when she let it down.
His smile faded fast. She must have been injured. There was no other explanation for her sitting out the dances. He should see to her welfare, for Elle’s sake, of course. His sister was rather dogmatic about her love for her friends, and she’d be none too happy if he ignored one of her dearest friends.
He jostled through the crowd clustered around the dance floor in route to Miss Bell. Lady Pitsford caught his eye as he neared, a seductive smirk playing about her red lips as her gaze followed him. He offered an appreciative smile to the lovely widow, but he didn’t have time to engage in a flirtation now.
Whispers traveled in his wake as he passed the young misses dressed in their pristine white, pale pinks, and subtle yellows. Their anxious faces were a blur as he stayed focused on his goal of reaching Miss Bell. Even as he came up on her left, she didn’t notice him. She sat on a tufted seat with a rigid back and fixed smile.
He stopped beside her chair, patiently waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she didn’t after several moments, he cleared his throat. She startled and blinked up at him. “Oh, Lord Ravenswood. I didn’t see you there.”
His grin widened. “Perhaps Lady Glenhaven should light more candles. That seems to be a common problem this evening.”
A pink blush dusted her cheeks and her long lashes fluttered.
A young lady he thought he should know stood at Miss Bell’s side and stared unabashedly in his direction, hanging on every word. He couldn’t speak of the incident in the corridor without risking Miss Bell’s reputation, but he wasn’t yet satisfied she was well either.
“Would you do me the honor of allowing me to sign your dance card?”
Her elegant eyebrow twitched, but otherwise she remained frozen with her lips parted. As the moment dragged on, heat swept over him. No lady had ever left him hanging on a limb.
“Your dance card, Miss Bell?”
“Oh!” She snapped to attention. “Of course.” Her hand shook as she looked at it, then held it out to him. Her pearly teeth captured her plump bottom lip as her wary brown gaze slowly lifted.
Evidence of her nerves erased his tension. He’d surprised her, that was all. “Never fear, I’m a graceful dancer,” he teased. “Why, I stomped my last partner’s toes no more than twice.”
She wrinkled her nose in such an adorable way as to remind him of a rabbit. “Magnificent promises often end in paltry performances, my lord.”
“You had best hope Aesop was wrong in this instance.”
She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement and warming his heart. Here was the girl he’d known long ago.
He glanced at her card and his eyes flared. Her card was empty? Apparently the time she’d spent searching out the retiring room had worked to his advantage.
“I noticed this next dance is unclaimed. Would you humor an old friend and partner with me for the waltz?” He returned her card and held out his arm.
“Oh, I—”
“She will,” the girl next to her blurted, then turned a deep shade of red when Miss Bell whipped her head in her direction. “You will, won’t you, Vallie? It’s Elle’s brother.”
“Alison,” she demurred. They twittered together and Miss Bell turned her radiant smile on him. His breath caught at the beautiful sight.
“It would be my pleasure, my lord.” Miss Bell’s slender fingers settled on his forearm as she rose from the chair.
Again, whispers trailed behind him as he led her toward the parquet wood floor. Once they cleared the wallflowers and took position for the waltz, he reminded himself of the reason he’d asked her to dance. His gaze ran from her head to her toes and back again. She didn’t appear to have any bumps or bruises, at least to the parts he was allowed to see.
“Are you certain you were unharmed in the encounter with the duke?”
She snorted. “Only my dignity suffered.”
Her unladylike laugh made him chuckle. Miss Bell was just as he’d remembered her, only prettier.
The sound of violins split the air and Alex led her into the dance. She was smaller than he was, the top of her head stopping at his chin, but they moved together well.
“Don’t allow Langley’s gruff manner to bother you, Miss Bell. He’s in a dither now that he must replace his barrister.”
She laughed again, the sound more musical.
“Thank you, Lord Ravenswood. Is the duke frequently high in the boughs?”
He shrugged. “I have known him for years because of his connection with my sister, but I’m not privy to his moods.” He hoped she wasn’t worried about having offended the duke. If anyone had been offensive, it was Langley. But Alex didn’t really care to think on the duke when he had a lovely young woman in his arms. His gaze landed on the locket cradled by her plump bosom before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat and threw a quick glance toward the other dancers. “Miss Bell, forgive me for being fo
rward, but why is it you are sitting with the wallflowers?”
Her fingers tightened on his hand, and a dark blush climbed her face. “That is where young ladies who are not asked to dance belong.”
How crackbrained were his fellow gents? Miss Bell was not one to ignore. If he were in the market for a wife, he certainly wouldn’t leave her sitting along the sidelines.
“Sometimes it takes time for gentlemen to recognize a true beauty,” he said. “Don’t be too discouraged.”
“It does my heart good to hear you speak those words, my lord, even if they are naught but a kindness shown to me.”
“I never give compliments out of kindness, Miss Bell.”
Her dazzling smile created a jolt in his lower belly. Damnation. This wasn’t good. A debutante stoking his fire would lead to trouble, and the last thing he wanted was trouble and a leg-shackle.
She touched the heart locket, drawing his attention back to her décolletage. A man could have a jolly good time with her in his bed.
He tore his gaze away from the tempting display and rolled his shoulders. Very well, enough of that. Since he could see she was uninjured, it was time to turn his attention toward finding a widow’s bed to warm. And fast.
The dance ended and he led her into the promenade. He should bid her farewell and be done with the matter, but at the end of the line, he wasn’t ready to let her go. He guided her to the sidelines. “Perhaps you would save another dance for me tonight. If your card doesn’t become filled.”
“It would be my pleasure, my lord.”
She passed him her card and he claimed the supper dance.
As she walked away, her round bottom swaying with each step, Alex mentally kicked himself. If he was in the market for pleasure, he wasn’t going to find it with a sweet young miss, even if she was the most arousing lady in attendance.
Chapter Two
Valera hadn’t made it back to her seat before Mr. Moore, a bachelor actively seeking a wife that Season, approached.
“Miss Bell, may I have this next dance?”
She gawked at him, certain she had misunderstood him. As her silence crossed into awkwardness, wariness began to creep across the gentleman’s long face. He eased back as if to make a fast escape.
Good heavens, what was wrong with her?
She snapped to attention. “Yes! Of course, Mr. Moore. I would be delighted to dance with you.”
He released a noisy breath, an easy smile making his eyes brighten. “Splendid. Shall we?”
She linked arms with him and allowed him to draw her back onto the dance floor.
Mr. Moore was a gentleman’s son and heir to his father’s lands. Any marriage-minded lady would be happy to receive his attentions, even if he was slightly less handsome than other sought-after bachelors, such as the Duke of Langley.
Or Alex. Not that the Earl of Ravenswood was appropriate husband material. As the duke had reminded her, Alex was a bit of a scoundrel. Only ladies willing to risk their hearts and reputations would attempt to bring him up to scratch.
Still, as she danced the Scotch reel with Mr. Moore, she couldn’t help thinking how lovely it had been to be led around the floor by Elle’s handsome brother. Having known Alex most of her life, she had felt at ease dancing her first ever waltz with him. Suddenly she was glad the other gentlemen had overlooked her this Season. She chuckled breathlessly as she recalled how many hours she had wasted fretting over how she would perform when her turn came.
Mr. Moore met her gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they came together to join hands. “You seem different tonight, Miss Bell. Have you arranged your hair in a new way?”
Her fingers fluttered to her necklace. “I am wearing a new piece of jewelry,” she said. “Perhaps that is what you’ve noticed.”
She felt different wearing it, too, as if the gypsy’s magic infused her with a touch of charm and beauty she didn’t normally possess.
The gentleman’s gaze slid down to the gold heart pendant and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lovely.”
His pale blue eyes widened as he reached a finger toward the pendant. She gasped and he jerked his hand back. A blush raced up his neck and face, disappearing into his hairline. “My apologies, Miss Bell. I forgot myself.”
She shot him a hard look, mindful of keeping him in his place. Yet part of her was amazed by his reaction, however inappropriate it was. She had always wondered in the back of her mind if the locket truly held any power, and apparently it did. It just seemed to have trouble distinguishing between landed gentry and a duke.
At the end of the dance, Mr. Moore led her from the floor and thanked her for her company, all the while his eyes locked on the pendant.
“My pleasure, sir. I bid you a good evening.”
Valera hurried back to the group of wallflowers, pleased with how quickly the locket was working, and eager to share the news with her dear friends. If Lord Ravenswood and Mr. Moore had been compelled to ask Valera to dance, it couldn’t be long before the duke also fell under the pendant’s spell.
Valera sidled up to Alison. “Where is Charlotte? There has been a surprising development this evening. I know how she hates to find out everything second-hand.”
“Likely scouting for Lord Glenhaven’s library, since Mama would never allow her to bring a book from home.”
Valera shook her head and laughed. “Any gentleman who wishes to catch your sister’s eye better have words scribbled across his forehead. Well, she only has herself to blame for missing out.” Valera grabbed Alison’s hand and whispered fervently in her ear. “It works. The pendant really is magic.”
“Dalton’s Law!” Alison blurted, then winced before looking around sheepishly as if checking to see if anyone had noticed her outburst. “Vallie, you know I don’t believe in that nonsense,” she said in a subdued tone. “Magic is as insubstantial as fairy dust. Give me facts and proof, I say.”
“Well, how about the fact no gentleman has paid me a bit of notice this entire Season until tonight?” She held up the pendant and brandished it toward her friend. “It has to be the gypsy’s magic at work.”
Alison’s chin notched, and Valera knew she was in for a lesson in logic. “You’re grasping for fairy dust again. First of all, the gypsy never said it was an enchanted locket. And secondly, it is coincidence that you happen to be wearing it on the same night two gentleman have asked for your dance card.”
The metal heart lightly smacked Valera’s bare skin as she released it and turned her attention back to the ballroom floor. “Every truth has two sides,” she grumbled.
“Every truth has one side. And it can be proven.”
Valera wrinkled her nose at her friend. “Really, one would think a girl who loves to read Gulliver’s Travels would be predisposed to being the tiniest bit whimsical on occasion.”
Alison’s mouth relaxed into a shy smile. “Yes, well, er…Fiction doesn’t represent itself as fact, so it does not count.”
With a sigh, Valera went back to perusing the crowd. She had never won an argument with her science-minded friend, and she knew when to surrender. Her eye was drawn to the brightly colored gowns worn by the married and widowed ladies. A twinge of envy pulsed in her chest when she spotted a particularly stunning emerald gown with elaborate embroidery around the hem. Some day Valera would wear a beautiful gown just like it when she was married—she shot a mutinous glance at Alison—because no one would convince her magic was nothing but fairy dust. That was like saying hope and faith didn’t exist.
When the dancers left the floor, Valera was awarded a better view of the dress and the beautiful widow wearing it. Lady Pitsford received her fair share of gentlemen admirers, and at the moment, she held Alex in rapt attention in a corner. Valera’s heart sank. She wouldn’t be surprised if her supper dance partner disappeared before the end of the set.
Alison leaned her head close to Valera’s as if trying to figure out where she was staring. “Which gentleman has caught your eye this evening?
Lord Ravenswood?”
“You know I’m here for the duke,” she murmured, trying to convince herself as much as Alison that it didn’t matter to her on whom Alex chose to bestow his attention.
Alison took her hand and squeezed. “Langley would be lucky to marry you, Val. Any man would.”
Dear, sweet Alison. Valera smiled fondly at her.
Alison dropped her hand and looked up with wide eyes at someone standing behind Valera. “Lord Tealby, good evening.”
“Lady Alison, how lovely you look this evening.”
A loud giggle erupted from Alison and a charming pink blush infused her round cheeks.
I knew it was magic. And it was rubbing off on Alison. Now she too would shed her wallflower status, thanks to the pendant. Valera sent a smug smile in her friend’s direction as she turned to greet the baron.
“Dear Lord,” she screeched, causing several heads to whip around to stare at them. Tealby winced, but otherwise ignored her outburst. He lobbed an off kilter grin at her and swayed on his feet.
“Um, forgive me, my lord. I didn’t realize you were…uh…right there.”
The man was hovering entirely too close, much like a vulture waiting for his prey to kick the bucket.
“Pardon me, Miss Bell. I didn’t intend to frighten you.”
Nor did she intend to make a spectacle of herself. Poor Alison wouldn’t want to claim friendship with her if Valera didn’t stop acting like a social clod. She offered a brief curtsey. “The fault is mine, Lord Tealby. If you will excuse me…”
Valera stepped back to allow him access to her friend, but he wasn’t looking at Alison. Instead his bleary gaze was locked on Valera’s pendant. A dark curl lay plastered against his flushed skin, and she couldn’t take her eyes from it as he bent over her hand, placing his lips against her glove. The sweetly sour smell of brandy assaulted her nostrils.
“Miss Bell, do you have any unclaimed dances?”
The Heart of a Duke Page 10