My Fair Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  The other man was a tall, clever-looking fellow with padded shoulders and an exquisitely tied cravat. He quickly inspected Honoria and Sarah through his quizzing glass before turning the glass on Gillian. She was tempted to knock the blasted thing from his grasp and grind it under her heel, and then knock the sneering expression off his face.

  “Some of us are,” he drawled as he studied Gillian. Through the glass, his eye looked gigantic and bug-like. “But you do love to flatter the ladies, Gerry, and they love to flatter you back.”

  Stratton let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Don’t talk nonsense, Andover. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with complimenting the ladies, is there?”

  Andover. That explained it. The man who’d insulted Honoria.

  “Perhaps Mr. Stratton was merely trying to be polite,” Gillian said. “It’s a quality often in short supply amongst members of the ton, especially the men.”

  That gave the gentlemen pause.

  Andover recovered first. “How delightfully blunt. I had heard so much about you, Miss Dryden, that I had to beg old Stratton here for a formal introduction.”

  “You’ll be sadly disappointed, sir,” she replied. “I’m really nothing special.”

  “Fishing for compliments, are we?” Andover purred. “I’ll be happy to oblige.” What he no doubt thought was a seductive smile was spoiled by his stained front teeth.

  “Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. I assure you it’s a waste of time.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, I see you’re an original. How delightful. Perhaps your modesty is offended because we’ve yet to be properly introduced?”

  Gillian shook her head. “No, I think I’m just generally offended.”

  Andover’s expression turned ugly when Sarah and Honoria choked back startled giggles.

  “My fault for not making the proper introductions,” Stratton blurted out. “So sorry, ladies, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Gillian frowned. Stratton, who’d struck her in their first meeting as a self-possessed man, looked thoroughly uncomfortable. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for her grandmother. Unfortunately, Grandmamma had moved away to speak to a friend, and her back was now turned.

  “Yes, Stratton,” Andover said. “Do make the appropriate introductions. I would hate for Miss Dryden to be uncomfortable with me. Quite the opposite in fact.”

  She sighed. There were times when she preferred insults to flattery, and this was one of them.

  “Andover, may I introduce you to Miss Gillian Dryden,” Stratton said. “Miss Dryden, my friend, the Earl of Andover.”

  The earl flourished a bow. “Miss Dryden, it’s an honor. I’ve been quite longing to meet you.”

  She gave him a toothy smile. “You said you’ve heard about me. Well, I’ve heard about you, too.”

  He looked disconcerted for a moment, but then recovered. “All good, I hope.”

  “Quite the opposite, but I’m not one to gossip.”

  Honoria let out a startled squeak that brought Andover’s attention back to her. The poor girl cringed a bit, but then stiffened her shoulders and stared defiantly back.

  “A word of advice, Miss Dryden,” Andover said. “It’s best not to listen to gossip, especially from resentful little wallflowers jealous of attractive young ladies such as yourself.”

  Sarah and Honoria gasped at the insult, and Stratton sounded like he was choking. As for Andover, he deserved a swift uppercut to the jaw—or a knee to the bollocks. But Gillian had promised her grandmother that she’d behave. Besides, causing a scene would hardly help her friends.

  “I will be sure to take your words under advisement,” she said in a polite tone. “Since I’m a wallflower myself, however, I hardly think I’m in any position to judge.”

  “Come now, Miss Dryden,” his lordship said. “No girl with your lovely face and many physical charms could ever be deemed a wallflower. I do wish you would allow me to take you for a turn around the room or honor me with a dance.”

  The man was a complete bounder. “I’m sure you’d find me utterly boring in no time. Besides, I’m perfectly happy with my present company.” She smiled at her friends, who both beamed back at her.

  “What a pity,” Andover drawled. “And here I thought you were such a goer. At least that’s what Stratton said.”

  Though Gillian was unfamiliar with the term, Honoria’s shocked expression and Sarah’s outraged huff gave her a clue.

  “I never said any such thing,” Stratton objected loudly. That had the unfortunate effect of causing several heads to swivel and crane in their direction.

  Sarah glared at Andover. “Sir, apologize to Miss Dryden or leave us immediately.”

  Gillian appreciated her friend’s loyalty. Sadly, though, they were drawing more notice by the second. For once, it wasn’t her fault—a nice bit of irony that, under the circumstances, meant little. She patted Sarah’s arm. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. It’s all just silliness, best ignored.”

  Andover’s gaze narrowed with an ugly sneer. Clearly, he wasn’t used to rejection. “No doubt you’ve heard quite a lot. I’m sure that’s true for your dear mamma, too. She had quite the reputation in her day, did she not? And you know what they say—like mother, like daughter.”

  Something incendiary seemed to go off in Gillian’s chest, flashing anger throughout her body. Still, she managed a pleasant smile. “I’m not sure I take your meaning, my lord. Italian was my first language, so sometimes my understanding of English lacks subtlety.”

  “I’m quite sure you understand, my dear,” he said, boldly staring at her décolletage.

  “You’re a monster.” Honoria’s voice vibrated with fury. “Leave her alone.”

  “Good God, man, you’re clearly in your cups,” hissed Stratton, grabbing Andover’s arm. He cast a nervous glance at the growing circle of eavesdroppers. “Why don’t we go to the card room?”

  The earl shook him off and let his gaze sweep slowly and contemptuously over Honoria’s figure. “I’m sorry, did you say something, Miss Cranston? Or was it just a moo I heard?”

  As Honoria raised a trembling hand to her mouth, Gillian patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take care of this.”

  She gave Andover the same chilling smile that had prompted more than one Sicilian bandit to take to his heels. “My lord, you should have taken your leave when you had the chance.”

  * * *

  “Dear Charles, I’d forgotten how well you dance,” Letitia purred. “I insist that you save me the second waltz, for old time’s sake.”

  As he led her from the floor, Charles was tempted to remind her that those old times had almost ended in the ruination of her good name. Only his steadfast determination to prevent a scandal—and his father’s money—had swept the nasty affair under the carpet. While Gerry and Letitia had escaped more or less unscathed, Charles had not. He would never forget what the ugly episode had done to his father and to their relationship. His father had warned him about Letitia, but Charles had refused to listen.

  When he didn’t answer, Letitia took his arm and snuggled close, brushing her full breasts against him. Once, the temptation of her lush body would have driven him mad with lust. Now he wanted only to escape.

  “Unless, of course, you’re promised to dance with someone else,” she said as he steered her around a cluster of matrons.

  Two old friends of his mother snapped their fans in judgment. The others simply smiled and gave friendly nods. Lady Letitia Stratton might have been considered fast in her salad days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good ton. Her father was an earl, after all, and her husband was heir to a respectable estate and title. A beautiful and stylish hostess, Letitia threw lavish and entertaining parties. Only the highest of sticklers disapproved of her anymore, while most explained away any mistakes or faults of the past as flowing from youthful exuberance.

  They didn’t know what Charles knew.

  Letitia was turning ou
t to be damned hard to shake. She’d latched onto him in the same manner at two other social occasions since that unfortunate encounter in the park, and Charles was firmly convinced she was up to something.

  Right now, however, his goal was to get back to Gillian. She could get into trouble in endlessly inventive ways, especially in a setting like this one.

  “Well, Charles?” Letitia said.

  “Well, what?” he absently asked as he gave the crowd a quick scan. He finally spotted Gillian halfway up the room with Lendale and the rest of their group. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Jack would keep a weather eye out for her until Charles could make his way over there.

  “I asked if you were already engaged to waltz with someone else,” Letitia said with asperity. “Goodness, why are you so distracted?” She turned and followed the path of his gaze. “Ah, so you are interested in your adorable little protégé. I suspected as much.”

  Only a fool could miss the venom in her voice.

  “If by interested you mean I’m concerned for her welfare, then yes.” he said coolly. “The Marburys are members of my family, as is Miss Dryden.”

  “And do you always take such an interest in your family’s unmarried young ladies? Half of London is talking about how His Grace, the Duke of Leverton, is lending his august approval to an untutored chit of a girl. It’s vastly amusing, you must admit.”

  “Do I look amused?”

  She studied him, as if truly looking at him for the first time that evening. “I must admit that you do not.”

  “I would think that you, of all people, Letitia, would know better than to listen to half-baked gossip.”

  “Ah, but gossip can be so instructive, Charles. And a good many people find Miss Dryden to be a very diverting topic of conversation.”

  “How very dull of them,” he said. “Miss Dryden is an unexceptionable young lady, I assure you.”

  Letitia directed her attention to where Gillian stood with her grandmother and a few friends. Charles got a small jolt when he saw that Jack had suddenly disappeared. Charles had been depending on him to keep the wolves at bay.

  “Still, she is lovely,” Letitia said. “Miss Dryden is sure to attract many admirers.”

  Letitia didn’t need to point out the type of admirers the girl was most likely to attract, looking as she did. Tonight, she was displaying as a diamond of the first water in a cream and gold-spangled gown that flowed lovingly over her graceful figure. Her dark hair was coiled around her head in a simple braid, with a few tendrils whispering like silky ribbons around her temples and neck. Under the glow of the candlelight, her skin, tanned by the rays of the Sicilian sun, seemed like gold, too. In fact, everything about her shimmered, like a Roman coin polished to a high gleam. Gillian had rendered Charles all but speechless when she’d walked into her grandmother’s drawing room tonight, and he was not a man normally at a loss for words. The last woman to strike him dumb with her beauty was, unfortunately, standing right beside him now.

  Let that be a warning.

  “I have no doubt she will garner a number of respectable suitors,” he said.

  “Including you?” Letitia taunted. “I wonder how your mother would feel about having a prince’s by-blow for a daughter-in-law.”

  “How vulgar of you, Letitia. But I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”

  He had to give her credit when she didn’t even flinch. Instead, she trilled a pleasant, entirely artificial laugh. “Ah, but I forgot. No whisper of scandal must ever attach to the Leverton name. Perfect Penley would never lower himself to make so shocking a connection.”

  She knew he hated that nickname. After all, she’d given it to him and had been delighted when the ton took it up as a great joke.

  “How could you forget?” he said. “God knows I will always remember the price I had to pay to salvage your good name—and mine.”

  His tone was hostile enough that she retreated an inch or two. He was about to take his leave, and to hell with good manners, when she surprised him by resting a hand on his arm. “I’m so glad,” she murmured. “I was quite worried you might be taken with the girl. I should have known better.”

  He frowned. “Why the devil should you care one way or another?”

  “Can’t you guess?” she said, stroking his arm.

  Charles removed her hand from his sleeve. “No, I cannot.”

  When she opened her fan and began to leisurely wave it as she scanned the room, Charles knew she was toying with him. Her very presence was a reminder of what a callow youth he’d been. She’d manipulated him to great effect, and only by chance had he escaped.

  But what was her game now, and how much trouble would it cause?

  “You were always a handsome boy, Charles. But now you’re so much more than that. Sometimes I think I made the wrong choice when I walked away from you.”

  “Your memory is faulty, ma’am. I walked away from you.”

  “Alas, so formal,” she sighed. “I much prefer when you call me Letitia. You used to do it so easily, remember? Especially when you wanted to kiss me.”

  “No, I don’t remember.” Of course he did, though. He remembered every fevered moment from his youth. She’d only allowed him some teasing kisses and a few fumbling caresses of her lush body, but it had kept him dangling from her hook like a besotted fool.

  Scowling at the memory, Charles glanced across the room, searching again for Gillian and frowning when he couldn’t find her.

  “How chilly and proper you are,” Letitia said. “You’ve changed so much from that passionate boy who wore his heart so charmingly on his sleeve.” She moved closer again, not touching him but making sure her heat and scent surrounded him. Her heavy perfume was a dagger to his brain.

  “For God’s sake, Letitia,” he said, finally out of patience. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Must I spell it out?” she asked in a gently plaintive tone. “Very well. I would like us to rediscover those feelings we once had for each other, Charles. To be close again.”

  He only just stopped himself from gaping. A quick glance around showed that no one, thank God, was paying them any mind. In fact, all their neighbors were craning their necks to see something on the other side of the dance floor.

  “You wish to become my mistress,” he said.

  Irritation flashed across her features. “And you call me vulgar, my dear. But, yes. I would like us to be involved in an intimate relationship.”

  Now he understood. “You and Gerry in debt again, are you? So you’re looking for a wealthy lover.” He ran an expert eye over her jewels. “Yes, if I’m not mistaken, that lovely diamond parterre is paste. Apparently, you’ve had to sacrifice the family jewels to keep afloat.”

  The skin around her mouth pulled taut and white. “How dare you insult me?”

  “Letitia, I’m the one who should be insulted. You rejected me once, and now you’re propositioning me in the middle of a ballroom. Did you really believe I would fall for your tricks again?”

  She struggled to control her temper and made a credible job of it. “Poor Charles, you always were a fool. That, I see, has not changed.”

  “Well, now that we’ve exchanged a sufficient number of insults, I think—”

  Before he could finish, Jack materialized from behind a nearby pillar. “Excuse the interruption,” he said brusquely, “but I need to borrow Leverton.”

  Letitia sneered. “You may have him. He’s quite as rude as you are, Lendale, which I had not thought possible.”

  Jack laughed. “Up to the old game again, eh, Letitia?” He looked at Charles. “She tried it on me a few weeks ago, if you can believe it.”

  Her pale blue gaze brimmed with hatred. “You are no gentleman.”

  “And you are no lady, so we’re even,” Jack said in a cheerful voice.

  Charles thought she would choke on the spot. And he thought he would choke on the laugh he decided to swallow. “I suppose I should be annoyed that I was her second
choice. Again.”

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Jack replied. “But enough of this nonsense, old boy. You need to rejoin your party immediately.”

  The vague anxiety that had been lurking around the edges of Charles’s consciousness sprang into sharp definition.

  “Dear me,” Letitia said in a catty voice. “There is a commotion on the other side of the dance floor, and I believe I see your protégé, Your Grace. She seems to be engaged in some kind of dispute with my husband and Lord Andover.”

  When Charles took a hasty step toward the dance floor, Letitia grasped his arm. “Are you sure you want to do that? You know how much you hate scandal, my dear Charles.”

  “Letitia, what did you do?” he asked.

  She shrugged her beautiful white shoulders. She’d almost destroyed him years ago, and now she’d apparently decided to do it to Gillian.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  “Because she decided she wanted you, old son,” Lendale said. “And she clearly thought Miss Dryden was an impediment.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Charles said, disgusted. He stalked away, trying to ignore Letitia’s mocking laugh. He wove his way through the crowd, moving as quickly as he could without knocking anyone over.

  “Why the hell weren’t you keeping an eye on Gillian?” Charles snapped when Lendale caught up with him.

  “I’d just gone off to get some refreshments, for God’s sake. I’d snagged a footman with a tray of drinks when I saw that Letitia had trapped you in her evil snare.”

  “You shouldn’t have left Gillian on her own, Jack.”

  “She’s your damn responsibility, not mine. Besides, she was with her grandmother the last time I saw her. How the hell was I supposed to know she would get into an argument with one of the greatest morons in London?”

  “You have no idea how many ways that blasted girl can get into trouble,” Charles said. “And speaking of Lady Marbury, where is she?”

  “There she is,” Jack said, all but pushing a corpulent earl out of their way. They ignored his protests as they hurried to join her.