My Lady Rival
Page 4
Jo shrugged. “I would have refused him, anyway. I don’t want to dance with anyone.” But her air of nonchalance disappeared as a tiny, smug smile turned her lips. “The neat little O his mouth formed was very gratifying, though, especially if you say he’s as awful as—”
“The very worst of scoundrels.” The peacock woman nodded, frowning. “There he is now, speaking with your beau from earlier,” she said to Willa, pursing her lips to the right and darting her gaze in the same direction. Her eyes narrowed, her voice lowering with the crispest of syllables. “Mr. Jack Lunsford, second son of the Viscount Carews. The devil’s minion sent to plague the earth.”
“Oh, I spoke with him only a little while ago,” Willa said, amused to find that the charming Mr. Lunsford had an enemy. “He seemed nice to me. He made me laugh.” Even though she’d scarcely been paying any attention to him.
“A h, yes. You should be careful, then. Lunsford often starts with the laughter before he tries for seduction.”
before he tries for seduction.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Lunsford probably had more to fear from Willa with her charms and flirtatious glances than she did from him. Instead she focused on Mr. Midnight, admiring him openly as he stood beside Lunsford on the opposite side of the room. So the two men knew each other, did they?
They made a striking pair—both tall, Mr. Midnight as dark as his temporary appellation next to Mr. Lunsford’s golden countenance. Mr. Midnight was built with more muscle—Willa remembered his strength, the solid hand at her waist as they danced, guiding and turning her with the music. Mr. Lunsford was leaner, more elegant—and although the peacock woman appeared to believe he was the greatest of rakes and Willa’s own sources had told her this, it seemed from her interaction with him much more probable that he encouraged the label only for his own amusement.
Her gaze returned to Mr. Midnight anxiously, as though it couldn’t bear to be parted from him for even the slightest length of time. He alone held her attention.
Confident, but not overbearing. He knew his appeal to women, and yet he blushed when she complimented his ears.
It was true that A lex Laurie had dark hair, and though she couldn’t remember the exact color of his eyes, she believed that they were dark, too. He’d been tall.
Muscular.
Not the sort of man to blush, though. A nd yes, he’d been confident, but he had also acted more than overbearing as they’d competed to win the favor of the Italian investor three years ago.
Willa had won, of course. She smiled at the memory.
Behind her, someone let out the long, unmistakable sound of a yawn.
Willa glanced at Jo, who surveyed her from head to foot, then cocked her head at the pair of men. “Strike your fancy, does he?”
“Surely not Mr. Lunsford!” said the peacock woman.
A nd then, because Willa simply couldn’t bear to think of her any longer as “the peacock woman,” she held out her hand. “I think we should be introduced. My name is Miss Willa Stratton, from New York.”
The peacock woman stared at her hand, then reached out and took it. “But your speech is flawless,” she said, her brows knit together. “You speak like one of us.”
“Yes, my father—” Willa stumbled over her thoughts. No need to tell the woman how her father had taught her to believe that the best way to sneak past a person’s defenses was to take on that person’s habits and customs, and even his or her accent if possible. She needed to cease thinking of Mr. Midnight, to focus on what was before her. Smiling quickly, she released the woman’s hand. “A nd you are?”
The peacock woman smiled and answered, “Lady A lthea Redding, and although some prefer to torment me by using my full name”—she sent a withering glare across the ballroom—“please call me Thea.”
“Jo,” said Jo, stretching out her hand to Willa. Though the introduction was short and terse, her eyes crinkled at the corners inside her mask. “A pleasure to short and terse, her eyes crinkled at the corners inside her mask. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Willa took her hand and shook it, and something indefinable passed between them—an understanding, it seemed, although she didn’t know quite what it might be.
“The man you were dancing with,” Jo said, smirking. “What did you call him?”
“Mr. Midnight,” Thea and Willa said together.
“He mentioned a woman from earlier this evening gave him the title—”
“Yes, it was me,” Thea said. “Suits him well, I think, especially when he’s standing”—she craned her neck to peer around a passing shepherdess—“next to Lunsford. Do you know, Lunsford once told me that he doesn’t believe that the earth revolves around the sun?”
“What does he believe it revolves around?” Willa asked.
Thea scowled. “Him.”
Willa and Jo exchanged glances; then Willa looked across the ballroom again.
“Mr. Midnight is very handsome, isn’t he?” Jo murmured, almost as if speaking to herself.
Willa nodded. A t that moment, he glanced away from his conversation with Thea’s dastardly Mr. Lunsford and stared—directly at her.
Willa smiled, gave a short curtsy, then laughed as Thea compared Mr. Lunsford’s head to an overripe orange.
“Who is that lovely woman standing next to the curmudgeonly Lady A lthea and your sister?”
A lex dragged his gaze away from the Lady in Diamonds. “You’ve met Jo?” Lunsford rocked back on his heels and took another sip from his punch—a tepid, nasty concoction he actually seemed to enjoy. “A h, yes, Miss Laurie. I made the mistake of asking her to dance—which, if I recall correctly, you asked me to do and I so kindly agreed—only to have her shout at me. She even raised her hand halfway.” Lunsford lifted his own hand. “A s if to slap me, Laurie.” A lex coughed. Then, when Lunsford only continued to stare at him, he cleared his throat. “Yes, well . . . Jo is . . .”
“Terrifying. Surely that’s the word you were searching for. Further invitations might be difficult to arrange if she continues behaving so.”
“Which is probably what she’s counting on,” A lex muttered. He and his dearest older sister would need to speak regarding her efforts of sabotage after the masquerade. He should have expected she would do something to undermine his plans for the family.
“A nd a word of advice if you will, Laurie. Keep her away from Lady A lthea.”
“Is she the Lady Peacock?”
Lunsford darted a glance to the group of women, then back at A lex. His tone, heretofore affable even when speaking of Jo’s rejection, changed to one that could only be described as devious. It came along with a sly smile. “Lady Peacock. Yes.
Yes, she is.”
Yes, she is.”
A lex looked at the Lady in Diamonds. Her hands were now moving rapidly across her body as she spoke, the bell of her violet skirts making her waist seem impossibly small. Only because it was the natural path for his eyes to follow, A lex trailed his gaze over her bodice. Her breasts were lifted up and out, a nice, full curve for his imagination to round as he continued toward the top of her head.
She was smiling again, and laughing.
“Good God, stop it.”
A lex started and glanced at Lunsford, then back at the Lady in Diamonds again.
“What?”
“You’re staring at her like a little boy peeking through a shop window full of treats.”
“Do you know her?”
“No. If you’ll recall,” Lunsford drawled, “I asked the same thing of you only a moment ago. I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing her away from me earlier. I was just about to convince her to take a stroll with me through the gardens.” A lex lifted a brow. “A pparently you weren’t convincing enough if she went along with my lie about the dance.”
Lunsford narrowed his eyes. “I suspected as much. I certainly won’t forgive you now. I might not even tell you the name behind the Queen’s Madonna gown.”
“You will.”
A lex deliberately—reluctantly—turned his back to the trio of women. He couldn’t help it if his mind continued wandering to the Lady in Diamonds, or that the nape of his neck prickled with the thought that she might be staring at him now.
Still, after facing away from her it became easier to focus on the subject of the Madonna dye. He’d tried so hard to replicate it himself, but if there was finally word on the identity of the dye’s creator, then he wouldn’t act the stubborn fool.
He would buy the damn dye information.
“Go on,” he said. “This is the first I’ve heard about a name being attached. You believe you know who it is?”
“Oh, I’m certain I know who it is. His name is Woolstone, and he boasted at the club about being commissioned to create it by Prince A lbert.”
“Woolstone?” A lex frowned. “The name doesn’t sound familiar.” But then, he still didn’t recognize half the names of the peerage.
“A h, but this man isn’t just any man named Woolstone. He is Mr. A ndrew Woolstone, the second son of the Marquess of Byrne and brother to the Earl of Uxbridge.”
“A very important man, I presume. Someone I should have known about before this evening.”
Lunsford inclined his head. “Well, yes, but one can’t memorize all of our names in a few months. It’s taken everyone else a lifetime. Of course, I can memorize facts and details instantaneously, but I don’t expect you to—” facts and details instantaneously, but I don’t expect you to—”
“Woolstone, Lunsford.”
“Indeed. A ndrew Woolstone is the son of the Marquess of Byrne, a fact which is all the more important to remember because A ndrew may not be the heir, but he is certainly the spare. A nd the Marquess of Byrne does not tolerate family dabbling in trade, even if the dye was commissioned for the purpose of art by the monarchy.”
A lex shook his head. “Trade. So coarse and unworthy of the aristocracy. Best to leave it to the commoners.”
“Yes, and let us reinvigorate our inheritances by making all of our money off of your hard work. Or expand our allowances, as the case may be.” Lunsford leaned in and whispered, “But the news now is that Woolstone’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Lunsford snapped his fingers. “Into thin air, if you will. A week ago the marquess is said to have had a row with him about the dye and such, and then, three days ago—gone. No one knows where, and honestly, no one cares, as they all think he’ll show up with a bad head within a few days—”
“Has a tendency to drink much, does he?”
“Like a fish. His disappearance isn’t commonly known yet, so do keep it quiet.
But I thought you would want to know his name . . . what with your lack of success in re-creating the color, you see.”
A lex lifted a brow, then realized Lunsford couldn’t see it behind his mask.
Sometimes it seemed his friend enjoyed baiting him far too much. “Thank you, Lunsford. Your kindness in helping me move past my failures is very much appreciated.”
Lunsford shrugged modestly as he suppressed a smile. “If you can find him and he wishes to make up to dear old Byrne, then he might feel generous enough to share his secrets with you and be done with it. A nd then you and I, my friend, will be even wealthier than we are now.”
A lex recalled the last few months of frustration and desperation, of nights passed without a second’s sleep as he revised calculations and pored over every ingredient his father had ever used. Still, no shade of blue or violet A lex had concocted afterward resembled anything similar to the Queen’s gown.
He needed Woolstone. Beyond giving his mother a gown that would please her and make her the envy of all of London, he wanted the acclaim that replicating the dye would bring. The Lauries might soon be sought after in marriage for their wealth, but he wanted more interest for their company, too. With the dye and his invention—which would eventually work—every aristocrat with hopes of renewing the family fortune would see his successes and invest in Laurie & Sons. His family and his family’s business would be the talk of the ton—in the best of ways, if Jo could behave herself and Kat could refrain from befriending all the servants. A nd he would have to purchase new transportation, too.
God, Holcombe’s carriage truly had smelled like death.
“Thank you again for the information, Lunsford.” A lex turned, as did Lunsford
“Thank you again for the information, Lunsford.” A lex turned, as did Lunsford beside him, and he quickly located the Lady in Diamonds across the ballroom.
“A s for the mysterious woman beside your sister and Lady A lthea—”
“Lady Diamonds.”
“Oh, Lady Diamonds, is she? You’ve named her?” Lunsford laughed.
“Lady Diamonds. Lady in Diamonds.” A lex shrugged. “I believe the musicians are opening for another waltz.” He tried to decide if the right or left would be the faster route to her side.
“You’re leaving? I meant to tell you a tale of my superior wit and charm the other day. Of course, there have been many such occurrences since then, but I didn’t wish to boast over—”
A lex waved him off as he strode away. “Not now.”
The Lady in Diamonds placed her hand against his, then set her other at his shoulder. “I didn’t think you would come for me.”
“You knew I would.”
Her mouth tilted at the corners. “Perhaps.”
“Hmm.” A lex looked over the top of her head, pretended to focus his attention on someone else in the distance. “I believe I know why you crashed into me.”
“It’s not because you were in my path and irresistible?”
“No. You obviously know who I am, have developed a hopeless tendre for me, and are now trying to make me feel the same for you before you reveal your identity. You want to ensure my feelings before you declare yourself openly.” He knew it was a conspicuous attempt to learn her name, but still he tried.
Instead of complying, she laughed and drew A lex’s attention back to her mouth.
“A nd what are your feelings toward me right now, Mr. Midnight?” He bent his head. “Perhaps my feelings are just as much a mystery as your name, Lady Diamonds.”
“Or perhaps you want to kiss me,” she said.
A lex stumbled in the turn of the dance. “A kiss might be a good place to start,” he allowed.
A lthough this was his first official event of the ton, he’d attended many balls and other such affairs with aristocrats and businessmen throughout the Continent for the purpose of securing more investors for his father’s company. Most of the women he’d danced with then had been married, some interested in him for more than an innocent waltz. He hadn’t expected the ladies of the London ton—
especially the unmarried ones—to be so bold and direct with their invitations.
Hell, she was even more direct than the Italians and the French. They, at least, were subtle with their suggestions; she was brasher, bolder, more like the A mericans he’d met on his travels.
He didn’t much care for the A mericans he’d met on his travels.
“The question is,” he continued, “where exactly that first kiss should be.” He stared into her eyes—beautiful eyes they were, the color of the ocean . . . as he’d thought before, as he’d thought the first time they met in Italy . . .
thought before, as he’d thought the first time they met in Italy . . .
Dear God.
He glanced at her chin, her lips, her ears, as if doing so could assure him that yes, he had put all of the pieces to the puzzle together correctly. It was obvious now—the way she tipped her head back when she laughed, the startling color of her eyes, that singular combination of outward confidence and the hint of inner reserve . . .
Willa Stratton. She was Willa bloody Stratton.
Her eyelashes swept down and her chin angled t
o the side—if he didn’t know any better, he would have considered it a bashful gesture. But he did know who she was now, and he knew each dark, manipulative twist of her devious little mind. She’d sabotaged him. A nd she’d won. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but one thing was very much certain now: he knew her identity, yet she had no idea of his.
A lex smiled.
“Here,” she said, reminding him of their topic of conversation: a kiss.
He stared at the tender, vulnerable skin bared for his view, a sweet spot that began at the curve of her collarbone. She expected him to woo her, did she? A h, but she liked him. No, rather—she liked Mr. Midnight.
A lex pressed his lips together lest his smile widen into a full grin. “Hmm,” he offered, still staring at the place she indicated for a kiss. Leave it to his baser nature to find the temptation of his enemy appealing.
When he didn’t speak further, she lifted her eyes. “Mr. Midnight?”
“I’m certain kissing you—there—would be delightful,” he said slowly. A nd then he remembered that she’d made him blush with the comment about his ears. He’d blushed, for God’s sake! A nd so, after a moment’s consideration, he continued.
“However, I think a kiss first on your hand would be far more appropriate.” Unlike others, he saw no weakness in having a desire for revenge. A fter all, he’d been raised with Jo for an older sibling; revenge was a necessity for self-preservation.
“You do?” Her mouth pursed. Willa bloody Stratton wasn’t pleased with his self-discipline.
“I do.”
He wasn’t pleased that she would offer herself so easily, no more than he was in Italy when he realized that she’d kissed him to distract him from his pursuit of the Conte di Contarini as an investor for Laurie & Sons. He also didn’t believe she meant her present offer, for she had nothing to gain from him this time.
A lex swept her around the far end of the floor. He well remembered her claim afterward that he had been the one to kiss her. A ll he knew was that she’d been waiting for him in the moonlight and that she’d risen to her tiptoes and leaned toward him. It was the first of her many works of sabotage in winning Contarini for her father, and it had succeeded. He’d been thoroughly distracted that first night. Thankfully, though, he was intelligent enough to stay away from her in the following days. But still she’d won, and that kiss had been the beginning.