More or Less a Countess

by Anna Bradley

  “I thought she’d never be done,” Derrick muttered. “I don’t know that I can sit and listen to another bout of ceaseless pounding—”

  “Miss Somerset, will you play?”

  Nick followed Lady Derrick’s gaze to a yellow silk settee near the back of the room, to a young lady who froze like a frightened rabbit at the request.

  It was his sweet little dinner companion with the dark blue eyes, fair hair, and pretty lips. When he’d taken his seat across from her at table she’d flushed as pink as a peony, and hadn’t been able to bring herself to meet his gaze.

  “Ah, see how clever my wife is.” There was no mistaking the way Lord Derrick lingered possessively over the words my wife. “We’ll be fortunate indeed if Lady Derrick can persuade Miss Somerset to play. She displays her musical skills only rarely, but they’re exceptional.”

  Nick stifled another yawn. He didn’t much care whether the chit played or not. “Somerset, you said? I don’t recognize the name. Who is she?” Oddly, he didn’t recall Derrick introducing them at dinner.

  “Hyacinth Somerset. She’s one of Lady Chase’s granddaughters.”

  Nick’s gaze narrowed on Miss Somerset as she seated herself on the pianoforte bench and paused, her fingers poised above the keys. “Lady Anne Chase? I didn’t realize she had granddaughters.”

  Lady Chase was one of a group of a dozen matrons who continued to hold considerable power over fashionable London, despite their advanced age. She was alternately feared for her irascibility and respected for her spotless character and vast fortune, but no matter what one thought of her, she was indisputably one of the grand old dames of London.

  “They only came to London two years ago, to live with Lady Chase after their parents were killed in an unfortunate accident. Hyacinth Somerset is a sweet little thing, and a dear friend of Lady Derrick’s. She plays beautifully, but she’s rather timid, I’m afraid.”

  Nick stifled a snort. Timid? She looked as if she were about to fall into a terrified swoon. The delicate pink had leached from her cheeks, leaving her so pale she was gray, and her hands were trembling. For God’s sake, what was wrong with the chit? Surely she’d displayed her musical skills in dozens of drawing rooms before this? Nick stifled a sigh as her fingers sank to the keys, and he braced himself for another lackluster performance.

  There was a collective indrawn breath as Miss Somerset’s fingers began to move delicately over the keys, and Nick went still as the first dozen notes of Haydn’s final piano sonata floated through the drawing room. A hush fell as she sank into the piece, a faint smile curling her lips as the light, trilling notes tumbled over each other.

  The tense muscles in Nick’s neck eased, and a flush of pleasure washed over him, akin to the feeling one got when sinking into a warm bath after a day spent outdoors in the cold. He was particularly fond of Haydn, and he’d never heard this piece played so beautifully. Miss Somerset’s technical skill was impressive, but she’d also captured the exuberant, whimsical quality of the music, and she took such obvious delight in playing that it was a joy to listen to her.

  Joy. Now that…that was something new.

  When she was finished she sat for a moment at the piano bench, lost in the music still, but her head jerked up at the enthusiastic applause, and her eyes widened, as if she were surprised to find a crowd of people in the room.

  She rose awkwardly to her feet, and Nick half-rose himself, but before he could offer to escort her back to her place Lady Derrick hurried over, wrapped an arm around Miss Somerset’s shoulders, and led her from the drawing room.

  Derrick nodded at a fair-haired lady and a tall, stern gentleman who followed after them. “That’s her sister, Lady Huntington, and the Marquess of Huntington with her.”

  “Why is Miss Somerset in London at all this time of year?” It wasn’t as if it were the middle of the season, after all. “She must be off to the country soon for the holidays.”

  “Lady Chase has a country estate in Buckinghamshire, but she never goes. She claims it’s too far. She’s rather fussy, and she detests the country. She rarely leaves London, and she insists upon having her granddaughters with her at all times.”

  “Miss Somerset is a pretty little thing. I don’t believe you introduced me to her at dinner, Derrick. Why don’t you, and perhaps I’ll call on her tomorrow.” It was something to do, anyway, and the gesture would please his aunt. Even with her exacting standards, she couldn’t find anything to fault in one of Lady Chase’s granddaughters.

  But Lord Derrick let out a short laugh and shook his head. “An introduction? No, indeed. Miss Somerset is a lady, Dare, not an opera singer or an actress, or a lusty widow looking for a protector. Introducing her to you would be like throwing a tender lamb straight into the lion’s jaws.”

  Nick stared at his old friend, a sudden, bitter anger burning his throat. He should have known Derrick hadn’t simply forgotten to introduce him to Miss Somerset. It had been intentional, and there could be only one reason for such a slight. Nick didn’t deny he was a rogue, but for all his wicked ways, he wasn’t a despoiler of virgins.

  “Christ, Derrick. Do you truly believe I’d insult an innocent young lady? I may not be Graham, but I’m not an utter villain.”

  A dull red flush spread over Lord Derrick’s face. “I beg your pardon, Dare. I didn’t mean to suggest…my wife is very fond of the Somerset sisters, and Hyacinth Somerset is…unusual. I’m afraid we’re all rather overprotective of her.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t ask you to deliver her to my bedchamber like some kind of pagan sacrifice, Derrick. It’s a simple introduction, that’s all. If the lady doesn’t care for me, I’ll leave her alone.”

  Of course, she would care for him. Ladies always did, and with little effort on his part.

  As if to prove this point, Lady Uplands caught his eye from the other side of the room and began to pout and nibble at her lips. Nick let his gaze drift from her luscious mouth to her spectacular bosom, and all at once he recalled a special sensual talent of hers, one that involved her two best features:

  Those pouting lips, and that generous bosom.

  Perhaps he’d pay her a brief visit in Harley Street tonight, after all. His aunt didn’t need to know—

  “I suppose an introduction won’t hurt,” Lord Derrick allowed. “As I said before, she’s shy, but I’ll see if she’ll agree to come back to the drawing room with me. If she does, you’ll act the proper gentleman, Dare.”

  “What, you mean no leering, and no suggestive comments? No throwing her over my shoulder and—”

  “Damn it, Dare.”

  “For God’s sake, Derrick. I’m only jesting. Despite what you may think, I do know how to behave myself with a lady.”

  He simply chose not to most of the time.

  Derrick gave him a narrow look, then rose reluctantly to his feet. “See that you do, then.”

  He left the drawing room with a resigned sigh, and Nick relaxed against the settee. When Derrick returned with Miss Somerset he’d smile charmingly, compliment her performance, and ask for permission to call on her tomorrow. She’d grant it, and he’d take care to mention the call to his aunt, to get back in her good graces.

  “I wish you a pleasant evening, Lord Dare.”

  Nick looked up to find Lady Uplands standing next to the settee. He got to his feet and offered her a polite bow. “Are you off so soon, my lady?”

  Her lips curled in an inviting smile. “Oh, I think we’ve wrung about as much pleasure as we can from this evening, don’t you, my lord? It grows late.” She waved a hand around the room. “How long do you intend to stay? Everyone else has gone.”

  Nick took in the empty room with a frown. Damn it, where the devil was Derrick? He wanted the introduction, and didn’t like to abandon a chance to appease his aunt with so little inconvenience to himself, but he also didn’t intend to wa
it all bloody night for the chit to work up the nerve to return to the drawing room.

  “I understand you’ll be in London for some time, my lord.” Lady Uplands licked her generous lower lip and gazed up at him with heavy eyes. “I do hope you’ll come see me during your stay. You’ve an open invitation to come as often as you wish.”

  Nick forgot all about Miss Somerset and grinned down at Lady Uplands with frank appreciation. There was a great deal to be said for a lady who knew precisely what she wanted. “I’d like nothing more than to come see you, my lady.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned closer to murmur directly into her ear. “All of you.”

  She let out a low, sultry laugh. “How delightful.”

  Nick opened his mouth to agree, but before he got the chance, Miss Somerset wandered into the drawing room, alone. Nick glanced at the door, but to his annoyance, Derrick didn’t appear.

  Miss Somerset arched an eyebrow when she noticed him standing with Lady Uplands, and an odd little smirk drifted over her lips, but she didn’t pay them any further attention. She glanced around as if she were looking for something, then strolled across the drawing room toward the pianoforte.

  “My lord?” Lady Uplands ran a finger flirtatiously down his arm. “Will you follow me in your carriage?”

  “You may count upon it, my lady.” But Nick had turned his attention to Miss Somerset, who’d retrieved a blue wrap that had fallen to the floor beside the pianoforte bench, and was about to walk out of the room.

  Bloody hell.

  His gaze shot hopefully to the drawing room door, but Derrick was still nowhere in sight. It wasn’t proper for him to speak to Miss Somerset without first being introduced to her, but if he didn’t take his chance now, he doubted he’d get another.

  Propriety be damned. He’d never paid the least bit of attention to it before, so why should he start now? “Ah, Miss Somerset? May I have word, if you please?”

  Lady Uplands and Miss Somerset both gaped at him, shocked at his lapse in manners, then Lady Uplands let out a faint hiss and turned away with a toss of her head. Miss Somerset gave her a wide berth as her ladyship flounced out of the room, then she turned her attention back to Nick.

  A strange look passed over her face, as if she were trying to make up her mind whether to be horrified or amused. Her gaze swept from the top of his head to his boots, but he fancied she lingered on his waistcoat, and his…

  Dear God, was she staring at his breeches?

  Unfamiliar embarrassment rushed over him, heating his neck. Christ, were his falls disarranged after the skirmish with Lady Uplands? Before he could stop himself, he gave his coat a self-conscious tug to hide any irregularities. Miss Somerset made a faint noise, and his gaze jerked to her face just in time to see her expression tip from embarrassment into sly amusement.

  He stared at her, dumbfounded into silence. He hadn’t expected such bold assurance from a lady who’d nearly fallen into a mortified swoon after a pianoforte performance. He studied her for a moment, his gaze narrowed, but there was no mistaking the dark blue eyes and fair hair, the pretty pink lips. She was more petite than he’d thought, and there was an impish quality to her smile he hadn’t expected, but then he hadn’t paid much attention to her until now.

  “How can I help you, my lord?”

  Her gaze swept over him again, and this time she lingered on his breeches with such fixed attention that for one wild moment Nick thought she was asking if she could help him button his falls.

  For God’s sake, forget your falls and gather your wits.

  “Forgive me, Miss Somerset.” He crossed the room and sketched an elegant bow in front of her. “I realize we haven’t been introduced, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how much I enjoyed your performance this evening.”

  She looked appalled, and her cheeks flooded with color. “My, ah…my performance? I don’t know what you…that is, I didn’t see…I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”

  Nick stared at her, taken aback by this odd reaction, but then Derrick had said she was timid. Perhaps she was embarrassed by compliments.

  “Your pianoforte performance. The Haydn,” he offered, careful to keep his voice gently modulated, lest she fly into a panic and dart from the room. “I’m fond of his piano sonatas, and you played beautifully.”

  “Oh.” Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown, but then her face cleared. “Oh. Yes. The Haydn. Of course. What else could you possibly mean? I, ah—well, thank you. You’re very kind, my lord.”

  “It gave me a great deal of pleasure to listen. I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed a performance more.” He curled his lips into the practiced smile that never failed to charm young ladies, and waited for her answering blush.

  But Miss Somerset didn’t blush. Instead she scrutinized him with an intensity that put him in mind of his aunt right before she delivered a blistering scold. “Pleasure. Yes, I daresay one doesn’t always get quite so much pleasure from a dinner party as you enjoyed tonight.”

  It was an odd thing to say, and Nick stumbled over his reply. “Yes, well, not many young ladies play as well as you do. Might I call on you tomorrow, Miss Somerset, to inquire after your health?” He flushed at the abruptness of this request. Damn it, he was never so clumsy, particularly with ladies, but all of his smooth charm seemed to have withered in the face of Miss Somerset’s forthright gaze.

  She must have found his address as lacking as he found it himself, because she shook her head. “No, I think not, my lord. We haven’t been introduced.”

  “I’m Lord Dare, and you are Miss Somerset.” He bowed a second time, then held her gaze as he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “There. Now may I call on you?”

  Ah, much better. That had been charming. Surely she’d capitulate now—

  “No, thank you, Lord Dare.” Her tone was polite but brisk, and she draped the blue wrap over her arm with a finality that indicated the discussion was over, and she was ready to leave.

  Nick’s mouth fell open. For such a timid little mouse, she’d dispensed with him rather neatly. But he had no intention of arguing with her. A gentleman never argued with a lady, after all. Pity, for she would have proved rather useful in his dealings with his aunt, but he’d wasted enough time on Miss Somerset.

  He offered her a cool smile and a polite bow. “Very well. I wish you a pleasant evening, then.”

  She nodded and made her way to the door, but before she disappeared through it she paused to look back at him, and the mischievous smile he’d noticed earlier flirted at the corners of her lips. “Oh, Lord Dare? I enjoyed your performance this evening, as well.”

  “My performance?” He hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about, but he had the distinct impression she was laughing at him.

  “Oh, yes. I was greatly entertained by your…vigorous efforts.”

  What the devil did that mean? Nick’s mouth opened, but before he could come up with a lucid reply, Miss Somerset was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Someone had sewn his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Nick couldn’t imagine who’d do such a fiendish thing, but the villain was likely the same person who’d stuffed his head full of cotton wool.

  A faint shuffling sound made him crack open one eye just wide enough to catch a movement near the bed, and a defeated groan escaped his dry, cracked lips. He’d fallen asleep in Lady Uplands’s bed, hadn’t he? Damn it, he was going to have a devil of a time escaping her this morning without a repeat of last night’s debauchery, and the ache in his temples made further acrobatics impossible—

  “Ah, very good, my lord. You’re awake.”

  Nick cracked open his other eye to find a long, dour face peering down at him, and a quick stab of temper chased away the last hazy remnants of sleep.

  Christ. He was in his own bed, thankfully, but his aunt had sent up Gibbs
to chase him out of it again.

  Lady Westcott had been happy enough to leave Nick to himself when he’d first returned to England, but once it became clear his dissolute behavior was habitual, she’d set Gibbs on him like a Bow Street runner after a thief.

  Gibbs had been Graham’s valet for the past five years, but Nick seemed to have inherited him along with the title and the country estate. Neither he nor Gibbs were particularly happy about it. Gibbs was accustomed to serving Graham, who’d been the epitome of English gentlemanliness. Nick was accustomed to being left alone to do as he bloody well wished, and he didn’t wish Gibbs’s frightening visage to be the first thing he saw every morning.

  Or the second thing, come to that.

  “Awake? How optimistic you are, Gibbs. I’m not certain I’m even alive.”

  “Death is, I believe, an adequate excuse for not rising before dusk, my lord. Shall I inform her ladyship you’re deceased?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. Gibbs specialized in sarcasm. “Certainly, if it will get you to cease plaguing me. What the devil do you think you’re doing gawking at me while I’m in my bed, Gibbs? I didn’t send for you.”

  He never sent for Gibbs, but the man kept appearing like an unlucky penny.

  “No, my lord. Your aunt sent me to you. Her ladyship expressed some anxiety at your persistent fatigue. She’s concerned you may be ill.”

  Nick scowled. He never rose before dusk, and he didn’t intend to start today. “As you can see, there’s not a damn thing wrong with me four more hours of sleep won’t cure. Go and inform her ladyship I’m perfectly well, and don’t come back until I send for you.”

  “It is her ladyship’s considered opinion a healthy young gentleman does not remain abed until sunset. Do you require a doctor, my lord?”

  Nick groaned. “For God’s sake. No. No bloody doctor. What time is it?”

  “Noon, my lord.”

  “Noon! Is that all? Get out, Gibbs, and don’t return for at least seven more hours.” Nick was willing to indulge his aunt’s whims to some degree, but this was barbaric.