Lucy grimaces. “A continuation of breakfast?”
“Indeed,” I say.
Lucy pats my hand. “I’m sorry she’s being so horrible to you both. Perhaps we should talk of other things.” She looks out toward the cricket field. “I haven’t been able to watch the match. Who’s winning?”
“You can’t tell by Lord James’s face?” I ask. “Lord Thornewood is most certainly winning.”
“I’m torn as to whom I should cheer on, then,” Lucy says. “I’m terribly fond of Lord Thornewood, but I do love an underdog.”
“Oh dear,” Penelope says, “don’t let Lord James hear you call him the underdog.”
I laugh, and Lord Thornewood turns in our direction. His eyes light upon my face, and he grins. “Miss Sinclair,” he calls, “come join me for a moment.”
I smooth my skirt as I stand. “Whatever for?” I call back.
He just continues to wave me over. I roll my eyes at Lucy and Penelope, though inside, my stomach is doing that vexing fluttery thing it does whenever I’m around him.
“Yes, my lord?” I ask when I reach his side.
He answers by handing me his bat. “We’ve all grown tired of the game, so I’ve decided you can settle it for us.”
“What are you going on about?” James says, his arms crossed over his chest.
Lord Thornewood leans close to my ear, the whisper of his words tickling my cheek. “I must beg your aid in this. It’s our chance to be the ones to frustrate my brother for once.”
My heart beats faster at his nearness, but I nod. “Certainly. What would you have me do?”
“Miss Sinclair will bat next. However many runs she scores will be the deciding factor in the game. Do you agree, brother?”
James shrugs, grinning despite himself. “Have you ever played cricket before, Miss Sinclair?”
“No.”
James laughs and holds his hand up. “Be my guest, then.”
I take the bat from Lord Thornewood, and he stands behind me. I look back in surprise when he moves so close I can smell his crisp linen shirt and the slightly woodsy scent that is his own.
His hands touch both my arms. “You’ll need to bend your elbows,” he says, his voice deep and rich.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He takes another step closer, so I can feel his chest rise against my back. I think of the way my hands roved over his muscular chest just this morning. Warmth pools inside me. He gently manipulates my arms into swinging the bat. “Smoothly. Like this.”
After a few more practice swings, I nod again. “I’ve got it.”
“He’ll bowl the ball fast, so you’ll need to swing right as it’s arching toward you,” he says.
I test the weight of the bat in my hands. James’s smug look catches my eye. I truly didn’t intend to use arcana to aid me, but I simply cannot resist the fun of surprising them all.
“I shan’t take my eye from the ball, my lord.”
“Good girl,” he says. I feel him step away, the breeze cool against my now-exposed back.
“Ready?” James asks.
“I’ve trained her well,” Lord Thornewood says, and his brother snorts. I narrow my eyes, eager to prove him right.
James reels back, throwing his whole body into the bowl. I open myself to my power. It flows around me like a warm afternoon breeze, and I channel it. With the sun so warm and bright on my skin, I barely feel the small loss of energy. Inwardly, I direct it to heighten all my senses, especially sight. One moment James is blurry around the edges. The next, I can see the eyelash that has fallen onto his cheek. I watch the ball, seeing every crack in the leather until I can practically feel it in my hands.
When he finally releases the ball, it flies through the air—just a blur really. It hits the ground about two feet away and arches back toward me. I channel my energy into the bat, and it connects with a satisfying crack. The ball flies away. Lucy and Penelope let out a cheer behind me, and James looks at me with mouth agape.
Lord Brashier, Lord Thornewood’s friend, scores the last run needed. Lord Thornewood’s team wins. I turn to him with a wide smile, and he lifts me in the air as if I weigh no more than the cricket bat and twirls me around.
“Put me down at once,” I try to say amidst my own laughter.
He lowers me to the ground and keeps his arms around me much longer than is proper. Though with his eyes locked on mine, it’s hard to worry about propriety.
“Well done, Miss Sinclair,” James says with a genuine smile. He turns to his brother. “I must congratulate you on your choice of champion. She did extraordinarily well.” He gives us both a sly look. “Are you sure this was your first time at bat?”
“Quite sure,” I say with a wink.
“I know you will be dancing almost exclusively with my brother, but as the loser of this little game, I beg you will favor me with at least one dance tonight.”
“You honor me, Lord James.” I glance at Lord Thornewood. “And I’m sure Lord Thornewood will not be dancing as many dances as you say.”
“Perhaps not,” Lord Thornewood says, “but only if the younger Miss Sinclair and Miss Hasting will agree to dance with me.”
“Very good,” James says with a clap on Lord Thornewood’s back. “Let us go freshen up then. I’m sure the ladies would like to rest before this evening.”
We start back toward the house, but not before I see not only is Eliza glaring at me like I stole her favorite dress, but my own grandmother has her arms folded across her chest as if I’ve done something terribly improper.
“Lord help me,” I mumble to myself. The evening should be exciting indeed.
NINETEEN
LUCY and I enter the ballroom arm-in-arm, the satin of our dresses making pleasant rustling sounds as we move.
“Oh, how beautiful,” I say, drawing in a breath as soon as I get a good look at the room. Lit by three enormous crystal chandeliers and countless wall sconces, the soft lighting illuminates the floor-to-ceiling length windows facing the lake. From where we stand, the reflections of the colorful guests and the floral decorations shine back at us in the windows. But I see several spots that have been left dim or dark, as if inviting one to enjoy the view of the grounds.
“I wish I had my drawing pad,” Lucy says, her wide eyes scanning the room.
“I wish you would paint this scene,” I say wistfully. Just then I spot Eliza, dressed in a creamy gold gown scattered with pearls. She is accompanied by a rather handsome older couple—her parents, I assume. “Perhaps you could omit a few things, though.”
Lucy follows my line of sight and laughs softly. “Indeed I can.”
I continue scanning the grand room for any sign of Lord Thornewood, and I finally find him amidst a group of gentlemen. I sigh in disappointment, but for some reason, he looks up. He smiles, says something to Lord Brashier, and makes his way toward us. My heart thumps in rhythm to his footsteps in anticipation of the moment when he will take my hand and guide me to the dance floor.
When did I become so besotted with the man?
“Katherine,” he says, his voice low, admiring. His eyes sweep over my body before returning to my face. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
Lucy gives me a questioning glance at his familiar address of me, but I cannot drag my gaze from his for more than a few seconds. Perhaps he is truly the one with power.
“And you, Miss Lucy,” he says with a sweet smile for my little sister. “Your sister and I will have to keep a close eye on you when you debut. We won’t be able to hold off all the suitors.”
“You are much too kind, my lord,” Lucy says, her face glowing as it always does when Lord Thornewood is around.
I tuck away his casual mention of the future for later analysis. He has never made mention of the future with me, and I wonder if he meant it as a meaningless pleasantry or as something he’s thought of before. I confess I’ve avoided thoughts of such things thus far, save when I imagined what it’d be like t
o see him every morning.
“Do you mind if I beg the first dance from your sister?” Lord Thornewood asks Lucy.
“Not at all,” Lucy says. “I was on my way to the refreshments table.”
When Lucy leaves, my smile is teasing as I turn to him. “You asked Lucy, but you didn’t ask if I was ready to dance.”
“My apologies. I must rectify this immediately.” He takes my hand in his, and I wish I wasn’t required to wear satin gloves. I long to feel his bare skin against my own. He bows low over my hand and presses a kiss to my palm. Little shivers of excitement race up my arm. “Katherine, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”
“I would love to,” I say truthfully.
“I hope you can tango,” he says, a truly naughty grin upon his face.
“Of course I can . . .” I pause. “Did you say a tango?”
He grins. “I did. We’re not in London anymore, my darling. We can dance any dance we choose—even if it’s one those old biddies have deemed inappropriate.”
I laugh. “How scandalous. Although, they say it’s a favorite in France.” I joke with him, but in truth, my limbs are jittery with nerves. As dancing the tango was never part of my lessons, I have never learned the steps, but I know it requires more intimacy and more lingering touches than I am used to.
We move onto the dance floor as the first low tones of the piano are played. He takes my hand and twirls me into his body, and my eyes seek his. I vaguely notice the other dancers. Lord James is there with Penelope, whose cheeks are a bright pink. She must be as flustered as I am. Then we take that first step, and everything but Lord Thornewood fades from my awareness.
He guides me with expert skill, until we are gliding through the steps. Every time his hand touches my hip, my hand, or runs down my arm, it leaves a trail of warmth.
“Katherine, you have no idea the power you hold over me,” he says and my spine stiffens. Surely I haven’t loosed enough arcana to enchant him?
I laugh nervously. “What do you mean?”
His eyes are clear and direct. “You are the only woman who has had the strength to challenge me—on everything,” he adds with a grin. “I know I can sometimes come across as arrogant.”
I make a sarcastic scoffing sound, and he twirls me a bit too vigorously. I smile back at him innocently, relieved he doesn’t seem to be referring to my power.
“As I was saying, you’ve never seemed intimidated by my station or how intolerable I can be.”
“I was as cold to you as you were proud. And you’ve always given me sound advice—I learned that the hard way.”
He groans. “Do not remind me of that night. I still have nightmares.”
“I just pretend it never happened,” I say quietly.
“Katherine, you must know I’d do anything to protect you.” His lips form a crooked smile. “On the rare occasions you actually need it.”
“I’m glad you recognize I’m not a typical female member of London society.” But of course, he’s unaware of how different I really am.
When he guides me in the next step, which brings us close together again, he leans in toward my ear. “There’s something I would like to speak to you about—if you’ll agree to meet with me. Tonight. In the library.”
I think of the last time we were alone in the library, and my stomach tightens. “When exactly should I meet you?” I keep my voice quiet.
“After everyone else has gone to bed.” We step apart for a moment, following the dance, and when we come back together he says, “Will you meet me?”
“I will.”
As the last bars of the dramatic song end, he dips me low, his lips coming tantalizingly close to my décolletage.
He grins, and I smile back as the dance ends.
My knees are wobbly as I join Penelope and Lucy for a glass of lemonade. Footmen offer trays of white wine and champagne, but I’ll need all my wits about me tonight.
“Lord, that was fun,” Penelope says, fanning her face with her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever danced the tango in public.”
“Was Lord James an accomplished partner?” I ask.
“He was indeed. Funny, too. You were right about him, Katherine. He truly is kind.”
I arch my brows at her in jest. “Oh dear, does my brother have competition already?”
She blushes and swats at me. “Stop teasing me.”
I’m about to say more when Lucy puts her hand on my arm. Our grandmother makes her way toward us for the first time tonight, and she’s not alone.
“Katherine, I would like for you to meet Lord Hampton,” she says, holding her hand out toward a man at least twenty years my senior. I hide my frown. She’s introduced me to older men before, but I didn’t think she would bother to throw me in the path of other potential suitors this weekend. I guess I naively thought I’d be given a brief reprieve.
I curtsy as formal introductions are made. The man is pleasant with a kind smile, though old enough to be my father.
“May I have the honor of the next dance?” he asks, his thick eyebrows raised expectantly.
Grandmama gives me a stern look as if she’s afraid I’d be rude enough to turn him down. Obviously I cannot, so I smile. “I thank you, yes.”
“Very good,” he says. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
“Grandmama, whatever could you be thinking?” I demand as soon as he is far enough away not to overhear.
“Did you not listen to my introduction, girl? Lord Hampton is a marquis with nearly as big an estate as this one.”
“He’s much too old for me.”
“Age has nothing to do with whether a man is suitable,” she says. She keeps her eyes on the dancers in front of us, a slight smile on her face, as if we are merely discussing fashion or the weather.
My jaw is tight as I clench down on my teeth. I have no reason to be so angry with her since this isn’t exactly new behavior on her part. But I cannot escape the suspicion she’s doing it just to keep me from enjoying more dances with Lord Thornewood. I just don’t understand why.
The current dance ends, and Lord Hampton returns to escort me to the dance floor. He moves stiffly, as if one of his legs was injured in the past. His face is handsome, but his mustache reminds me of Papa. I force a smile. There’s no reason to be unkind to this man simply because I’m frustrated with my grandmother.
“Your grandmother tells me you enjoy the country more than the city,” he says when we have settled into our dancing rhythm.
“I do. I’m sure you find that rather strange.”
“On the contrary, my wife always preferred the ease and space of the country.” His eyes are wistful, and I realize he must have recently lost her.
Now I’m reminded even more of Papa, and I give his hand a little squeeze. “I’m sorry for your recent loss.”
He smiles back, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. “Am I being terribly obvious?”
“Not at all. I just recognize the signs.”
“You are so kind to dance with an old man. I told your grandmother I didn’t want to impose, but she insisted.”
A flare of frustrated anger quickly pushes aside the feelings of guilt. I glance in Grandmama’s direction, but there is no way to divine her intentions from her blank expression.
“You are not imposing, my lord. Tell me, did your wife enjoy riding?”
My question is all Lord Hampton needs to regale me with tales of his wife, some funny, some bittersweet. Above all, it is clear he is still very much in love with her. Even more shameful, then, that my grandmother was taking advantage of his situation to throw me in his path.
He bows low when the dance ends. “I thank you for the most pleasant dance I’ve had all evening. You’ve made my heart feel a little less heavy.”
“I’m glad to have done you such a favor,” I say.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he says with a kind smile.
When he leaves, I go directly to Grandmama, my hands
in tight fists at my side. “Very poorly done,” I say in almost a snarl. “You had no right to drag that poor man into your matchmaking machinations, if indeed that was even your intention.”
“You would do well to curb your tone with me,” she says, her voice quietly ominous. “I’ll not stand to be dressed down by my own granddaughter.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I don’t back down. “Did you know he was a recent widower?”
She meets my stare. “Why else would I put you in his path?”
“Well, it was very wrong of you. Think of my father—how hard it was for him. For all of us.”
She tsks. “Yes, and he would have been much happier if he had remarried. I always encouraged that, but he would not listen to me. Just look at how wild you became. Had you a proper mother, you’d be much better turned out.”
Her barbs sting, and for a moment, I’m a lost little girl with no mother and a grandmother who despises her again. “You said I’ve done well in my debut—with my etiquette.”
“I thought so—at first. But then you made such a muddle of things. It’ll be a miracle if we get you married off at all.”
I gape at her. How could she say such things when we’ve been personally invited to the Lord Thornewood’s home? I say as much.
“Lord Thornewood is a rake. It’s time you realized that. You’d do well to guard your heart around him.”
I think of the man she believes to be a good match instead of Lord Thornewood, and I shake my head in exasperation. She will never believe the truth about Lord Blackburn, and even if she did, she would only blame me for it.
“I’ve had quite enough,” I say, and stalk off. But though I am out of her sight and away from the conversation, her words linger in my mind.
TWENTY
I make my way to the refreshments table to find Lucy, my whole body tense. I’m angry at my meddling grandmother, but I’m also wary. Her judgment of the character of potential suitors is questionable at best.
“That’s quite the dark look you’re wearing,” a wry voice calls out behind me. I turn to see James grinning at me. “Has my brother run you off so soon?”
“No, indeed. I was just looking for my sister.”
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