A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  “Where’s your new friend, Miss Gertrude?” Lady Beatrice asked with a snide smile as they arrived.

  “Her parents wanted to leave. Growing late, they said.”

  “Late? How plebeian. ‘Tis barely half past two o’clock.”

  “Goodness. I should collect my sisters and be going. Laura’s wedding is scarce a fortnight away. We practically rise at dawn these days to make the preparations. Such folderol for an event that shall last, at most, an hour or two! I cannot wait until it is all over and our lives can return to normal.”

  Miss Lydia, who lived next door to the Carrs, sighed in mock boredom. “Ah, yes. She is marrying Colonel Burke, is she not? Some sort of war hero?”

  Trudy nodded. “They will be leaving for India shortly after they are wed.”

  Lady Edith Tully, one of Lady Beatrice’s minions, sighed. “Is it a love match?”

  “Love? I think she is content. It is a good match, and Mother is determined to have Laura married before Fiona can say her vows.”

  “And, eventually, you?” Lady Beatrice asked with a malicious smile.

  “And me,” she conceded. Lady Beatrice was alluding to the fact that Trudy, at two-and-twenty, was the youngest of the Carr sisters, had no gentlemen callers and would have to wait until her older sisters were married before it was her turn. She smiled. “With a bit of luck, I shall have a few years left to myself. I do not relish forfeiting my liberty.”

  “I have heard Miss Fiona has a rather particular friend,” Lydia said, then covered her giggle with her fan.

  Drat! Trudy hadn’t heard that. Just like Fi to keep such a thing a secret. If Fi found a husband so soon after Laura’s marriage, Trudy’s mother would be free to devote all her time to making a match for her. She gave an unconcerned shrug and smiled. “Yes, well, eligible men are not exactly knocking down my door. That is the advantage of being plain. One goes blissfully unnoticed.”

  Beside her, Lancelot snorted.

  Lydia shook her head and set her chestnut curls to bobbing. “Plain! La! You underestimate yourself, Trudy.”

  “Indeed, she does,” Lancelot said. “We all—her family—think modesty is her most endearing quality, do we not, Gertie?”

  She gave her brother a little pinch on his arm. Oh, she’d been told she was pretty enough, but with two classically beautiful sisters, she’d still managed to fade into the shadows. Her mother had said it would be her turn to ‘shine’ once the others were married, but she was not altogether certain she wanted to shine, if all she had to look forward to was a boring Colonel Burke.

  Lady Beatrice turned her attention to Lancelot. “And Mr. Carr, how nice to see you this evening. A rare treat, indeed. Where do you keep yourself, and how is it that you are not dancing when so many ladies are in need of a partner?”

  He gave Lady Beatrice a perfunctory bow along with a smile Trudy had heard others describe as ‘devastating.’ “How can I think of others when you are standing here, Lady Beatrice? May I be so bold as to ask for a dance?”

  She actually tittered behind her fan. “I believe you may.” She offered her hand.

  Lancelot turned and gave Trudy a private wink as he led Lady Beatrice to the dance floor. Heavens! Was he going to avenge Miss Fenway by treading on Lady Beatrice’s toes?

  It didn’t matter. Skippy would do whatever he was wont to do. She raised her hands and sighed. “Well, it’s off to my bed for me. There are fittings, caterers, a garden party, and any manner of things on our list for tomorrow. I wish my mother would simply make decisions instead of interviewing everyone who ever planned a wedding. I bid you all a happy evening and may you not go home until the sun is rising!”

  She took a backward step just as Lydia’s bright eyes focused on a spot behind Trudy and widened, and a smile blossomed on her face. And then Trudy bumped into something warm and solid against her back.

  Chapter Two

  TRUDY WHIRLED FACE-FIRST into a crisp, white shirt and intricately tied cravat. “Oh!”

  The man gripped her shoulders to steady her and stepped back. She looked up and gulped. He was tall, dark, impeccably dressed and had the most beguiling midnight-blue eyes she’d ever seen. She couldn’t look away until his mouth curved into an amused smile.

  “I... I beg your pardon, sir. I did not know you... were behind me.”

  “Do not mention it. I shall recover with nary a scratch. Except, perhaps, to my shoes.”

  She glanced down and noted a scuff on the top of highly polished black shoes. “I am sorry,” she murmured. “If you will send them to me tomorrow, I shall see that they are restored promptly.”

  A small chuckle rumbled in his chest and he released her shoulders. “I am certain my valet will take care of them. Please do not discomfit yourself over it.”

  “Have you met?” Lydia asked.

  “I have not had that pleasure, Miss Bradley,” the man answered.

  Lydia dimpled as if she were pleased to be able to perform the courtesy. “Miss Gertrude Carr, allow me to present Darius Rusten, Fifth Earl of Collingwood. And Lord Collingwood, may I present my dear friend Miss Gertrude Carr? She is the youngest of the Carr sisters.”

  Lord Collingwood! La! No wonder she was so bemused. He’d been pointed out to her across a room in her first season, with a warning to give him a wide berth. Not that such a man would notice her, anyway. She’d been told he was a man who was hard to know. Dour and cold. Very proper and not inclined to marriage. One of society’s vaunted ‘unattainables.’ He had sounded so altogether unappealing that she’d never given him a second thought, and subsequently forgotten about him altogether.

  She collected her wits and performed a quick curtsy, bowing her head slightly as she did so. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Collingwood.”

  His polite smile as he bowed surprised her. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Gertrude. Are you, by chance, related to Lancelot Carr?”

  Lancelot knew this man? How interesting. “He is my brother.”

  “Ah. He and I are members of the same club.”

  “White’s?”

  He nodded, an enigmatic smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  Trudy stared, somewhat entranced, at his appealing lips, until Lydia took his arm and introduced him to Lady Edith, who gave him a proper curtsy.

  Lord Collingwood turned back to Lydia. “Miss Bradley, I presumed to approach your group to ask if you would honor me with a dance?”

  Lydia blushed prettily and took his offered hand. Trudy and Lady Edith watched silently as Lord Collingwood led her into a reel. Trudy’s heart was still racing from the effects of his smile and she hoped her agitation did not show.

  Lady Edith blinked, unable to hide her surprise. “Well! This is unprecedented. Collingwood has never approached our group before. I wonder how well Lydia knows such a man.”

  “Hmm. Likely through her brother, George.” Trudy ventured.

  “Even so, this is a first.” Lady Edith pronounced, her tone cross. “Lord Collingwood never dances.”

  They turned to watch Lord Collingwood lead Lydia through the steps. Trudy sighed. “He must. Look how well he does it.”

  For the first time, Trudy actually envied one of her friends. But she was pleased, too, that Lydia had been his choice. The girl could use a boost to her self-esteem, especially after enduring Lady Beatrice’s barely concealed tolerance.

  Lady Edith sniffed. “I wonder what he could want of Lydia, anyway.”

  Trudy frowned. What, exactly, was she implying? Her earlier intention of behaving herself was rapidly winging out the terrace doors. Her contrary nature got the better of her. She took a deep breath. “I think he is ever so handsome. The only thing better would be to walk in the garden with him.”

  “Walk? With him? Never! I would fear a man like Collingwood might take advantage of a young lady on a walk.”

  Oh, this really was too much! The tightly drawn string of Trudy’s patience snapped at that judgment. Was it not enough for Lady Ed
ith to besmirch Jane and Lydia? Must she tarnish Lord Collingwood as well? And probably just because he’d asked Lydia to dance, instead of her.

  She stepped closer to stand by Lady Edith’s side and lowered her voice. “Tell me, Lady Edith, what do you suppose Lord Collingwood is doing to Lydia at this very moment? I cannot discern any impropriety,” she whispered. “Or is it just walks you fear?”

  “Why I... I do not know. Perhaps he will use the opportunity to pull her against him. Or to touch her improperly.”

  Trudy slipped one arm around Lady Edith’s waist as if they were conspirators. “Hmm. I think Lydia would perchance leave the dance floor first.”

  “I should hope so. Why, how could she endure such familiarity?”

  That thought tickled the back of Trudy’s mind. What would it be like to be the object of Lord Collingwood’s familiarity? That cold proper man? Would he even be capable of familiarity? She chuckled.

  “What amuses you, Trudy? Do you think Lydia would welcome such advances?”

  No, not Lydia. She would. The thought popped into Trudy’s mind so suddenly that the idea startled her. She noted a sudden burning in her cheeks. How odd. She rarely blushed. Lancelot had teased that out of her long ago. “Of course Lydia wouldn’t welcome anything improper, Lady Edith. I was just thinking that a man of Collingwood’s reputation may not even be capable of ‘familiarity.’”

  Lady Edith sniffed again, her nose in the air. “All men are capable of such things.”

  The music ended and Lord Collingwood returned Lydia to the group with a glow on her complexion. Whether from exertion or the company, she could not say. She and Lydia passed some inconsequential pleasantries about the lilac hedge that separated their properties and then Lord Collingwood, who had been waiting patiently, turned to her.

  “Miss Gertrude, will you do me the honor of dancing with me next?”

  “Oh! I... uh...”

  “Come.” He held out his hand and quirked an eyebrow. “It is the least you can do after scuffing my shoes.”

  With the barest hesitation, Trudy took his hand and offered a little curtsy. “Lord Collingwood.”

  He led her to the dance floor as the strains of a contra dance began and Trudy knew a moment of panic. She’d hoped for a lively reel where she wouldn’t have to make conversation. Now they’d be facing one another as they went through the steps. She glanced up into those remarkable blue eyes, wondering if he’d picked the two homeliest females in the room with which to amuse himself. She and Lydia.

  “Miss Carr? Are you well? You look a bit flushed.”

  She took a deep breath. “Quite well, thank you. So, you know Skippy?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Skippy?”

  “Sorry. I meant my brother, Lancelot, of course. We have pet names for one another.”

  He nodded. “I see. And what does ‘Skippy’ call you?”

  Drat! She sighed. “Gertie.” She hated that unlovely name.

  He chortled—a good-natured sound that made her smile in return. “I would never have called you that,” he said.

  “No? And what would you have called a sister named Gertrude?”

  “My beautiful sister.”

  “And if she was not beautiful?”

  “My darling sister,” he said without hesitation. “But if that is Lancelot’s name for you, what do others call you?”

  “Trudy.”

  “Ah. Much better. Softer. More... appropriate for a woman of your beauty.”

  She laughed. “Now I know you are cozening me.”

  He grinned and she noted a faint dimple in his left cheek when he did so. She liked that. It made him more... human. “You slight yourself if you think so, Miss Trudy. When you come to know me, you will see that I am rarely insincere.”

  “I did not mean to insult you, Lord Collingwood.”

  “I doubt I’d mind if you did.”

  Oh, but he was smooth! She’d have to be very careful or he’d have her behaving in as silly a fashion as her sisters. “I might be tempted if my brother would not be perturbed at me for insulting a friend.”

  “Then there should be no impediment to your insults, Miss Trudy, since your brother and I are more acquaintances than friends. Fire away!”

  “Ah, what a relief. Now I will not have to mind my manners.”

  He laughed, and the sound was so surprising and unexpected that she smiled back. “What an impertinent little piece you are, Miss Carr. I am bound to say you are a breath of fresh air. And now, should you ever deign to offer me a compliment, I shall know it is sincere.”

  Impertinent? Now there was an irresistible temptation. “How perfectly lovely that we are both so sincere.”

  “And now you are mocking me! I’ve rarely received so many wounds to my self-esteem as I have in the space of this conversation.”

  Heavens! How had anyone ever judged this man to be cold and severe? He was far and away the most amusing man she’d met this year. Or any year, for that matter.

  “You must be mistaken. I would never dare to mock the intimidating Lord Collingwood!” Miss Gertrude blinked innocently up at him and Dare was pleased to note that the eyes he’d thought would be dark were actually an exotic mix of green and gold.

  He was completely drawn in. Little Miss Gertrude Carr had taken him by surprise. Most often he’d been disappointed by the affected delicacy of society’s eligible females. But Miss Gertrude, with her gentle irreverence for society standards and willingness to engage in slightly improper conversation, intrigued him more than any woman since his own entry to society. In what, ten years?

  Females tended to be afraid of him. Or timid, at best. Miss Carr’s impertinence amused him, and her plush, dusky lips fascinated him. He knew they’d yield beneath his, and likely taste of something sweet. No, tart and sweet both—like a juicy apple at full ripeness. Like Miss Gertrude, herself.

  Good God! He was indulging in flights of fancy—a thing he prided himself on never doing. He’d always been assiduous in confining his amorous pursuits to the demimonde where there could be no expectation of marriage or messy entanglements. He’d have to watch himself around the chit or she’d have him dancing attendance on her like some lovesick swain—God spare him that indignity! He’d sneered at friends who’d walked down that path.

  “Oh, dear, I’ve gone a step too far.” Her voice was soft and a little regretful.

  “Not at all. I was merely ruminating on the word ‘intimidating.’ Why do I sense you are not in the least intimidated?”

  “Because I am Lancelot’s sister. When I’ve had toads left under my sheets, garden snakes coiled in my clothespress, crows perched in my wardrobe, and mice in my slippers, it is devilishly hard to find a way to intimidate or frighten me. He has finally given up.”

  “I can see how all that could be good training for steady nerves, Miss Gertrude. But I’d fear that measure of self-confidence would also tempt you to misbehave yourself.”

  “Oh, that comes naturally, Lord Collingwood. I did not have to train for that.”

  He laughed again, a feat that very few women were able to accomplish where he was concerned. “I think your father may have done you a disservice to subject you so much to your brother.”

  “Not at all. He and I are very close. I had the advantage of the same tutor, the same lessons and instructions, and very near the same freedom to pursue, well, unladylike subjects. Laura and Fiona have always been demure and proper, like Mother. Lancelot and I are best of friends and... well, I confess I have heard the term ‘hoydenish’ used in regard to me, with too many toos.”

  He would remember to ask her about those ‘unladylike subjects’ one day. “Too what?”

  “Too smart, too wild, too independent, too daring, too careless, too... well, were I a boy, those would be good things, would they not? At least, I’ve never heard Lancelot reprimanded for such things.”

  “Your logic is irrefutable, Miss Gertrude. But, were I raising daughters, I would not encourage waywar
dness.” He’d thought to reproach her but she merely broke out in delighted laughter, a sound that raised goose flesh on his arms.

  “Wayward! La! I have never been called ‘wayward’ before. I shall have to add that to my list of ‘toos.’ How perfectly descriptive!”

  “Good Lord! You are incorrigible! Are you always so plainspoken?”

  She frowned as she considered his question, then looked up at him with a bemused expression. “I cannot say that I am. It must be you, Lord Collingwood. Perhaps your rigid stodginess tempts me.”

  Rigid? Stodgy? Bloody hell! Was that what she thought of him?

  “And why should I not be honest?” She continued just as if she hadn’t insulted him and left him speechless mere seconds ago. “If you are true to your reputation, you avoid society and the season. After all, we have gone years without crossing paths, and heaven only knows when we shall again. I think it is much more likely that I shall wave to you in the park one day, and you will wonder who that impertinent female is.”

  “I must doubt your hypothesis, Miss Gertrude,” he said. “Thus far, I am finding you utterly unforgettable.”

  And they’d be crossing paths again. Very soon, if he had his way. He’d dispense with the pesky Mayfair Shadow, and then he’d be free to devote his attention to deciphering Miss Gertrude Carr. Disarming, entertaining, honest and ingenuous. Oh, yes. She was sure to have a secret. No one could be all that.

  Trudy skipped down the stairs and hurried to the breakfast room. Laura and Fiona were taking a tray in their rooms, and Mother was still fussing over her toilette. Her father and Lancelot were reading the morning papers—her father at the head of the table with The Times auction notices, and Lancelot at the foot of the table with The Morning Chronicle and the on-dits of the previous day. She took her place between them, her copy of The Morning Post folded beside her plate—more suitable reading for females, according to Father.