by Darcy Burke
Sarah voiced Fanny’s thoughts. “Where’s Felix?”
“Being Felix,” Anthony said. “I brought my new friend St. Ives instead. He’s just come to town and needed to experience a ball. What good is going to a ball if you don’t dance at least once?”
“Well, if he’s taking Felix’s place, he should dance with me,” Sarah said. She flashed a smile at her brother. “I can’t imagine you want to dance with me any more than I care to dance with you.”
They had a loving sibling relationship, but Sarah didn’t often dance, and Fanny well understood why she’d prefer to do so with David. St. Ives. Oh bother, he was already David in her head, and so David he would remain.
And when Sarah found out he was the man Fanny had kissed at Christmastide… That revelation would have to wait until later. In the meantime, she wouldn’t upset her friend’s plan even if she was disappointed not to have David to herself so she could get to the bottom of his lies.
Fanny gave David an apologetic smile. “You must dance with Sarah.”
He had to agree or he’d appear an ass. “Of course.” He held his arm out to Sarah. “Shall we?”
Sarah curled her hand around his sleeve with a grin. “Yes.”
Anthony bowed to Fanny. “Shall we as well?”
“Indeed.” Fanny took his arm, and the quartet made their way to the dance floor, where the prior set had just ended.
“It’s to be a quadrille,” Sarah said. She tilted her head up to look at David. “Do you enjoy the quadrille, my lord?”
His gaze shot to Fanny as he answered, “As much as one can.”
He’d told her he was a terrible dancer. What the devil was he doing dancing at a ball, then? The same thing she was doing—being a bad dancer didn’t mean you didn’t like it, and it certainly didn’t mean that you didn’t hope, one day, to become better. At least that was how it was for Fanny.
“I’ve been practicing,” she whispered to Anthony.
“Is that what you were doing in the country?” he asked. “I thought you were visiting a friend.”
“I was.” Fanny had returned to Yorkshire to visit her oldest friend, who’d just given birth. It had been a wonderful visit, but she’d been eager to leave her parents’ house and return to London—or, more importantly, to Ivy’s house, where she felt much more…loved. “But I also worked on improving my dancing.”
“Excellent. Just the same, I shan’t be getting too close.” He laughed softly, and his eye held a twinkle.
They joined another pair of couples and formed their square. Fanny and Anthony stood opposite Sarah and David. The music began, and they bowed and curtsied to each other. Thankfully, the other couples went first, which gave Fanny the chance to review the steps in her head. Hopefully, she wouldn’t turn the wrong way and crash into anyone. It had been a while since she’d made that mistake.
When it was their turn, she started her steps, dancing forward and back, circling Anthony and then moving to the middle of the square, where she met Sarah, who gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re doing well,” she said, keeping her voice low.
Fanny didn’t dare respond. She was having a difficult enough time not watching David, and she needed to focus on her steps. Then it was time for her to take David’s hand. Her gaze slammed into his, and for a moment, she was entirely lost in their gray depths. The touch of his hand in hers sent a jolt of electricity through her, reminding her wholly and keenly of his kiss and the fact that she longed to feel his lips on hers again.
He released her hand, and, in a bewildered haze, she spun about in mistake. Realizing her error, she turned back and smacked directly into his chest. She’d been moving quickly with the music, and the force of their connection sent him staggering backward. He fell against one of the other young ladies in their square, and in his effort to steady her, they all went crashing to the floor.
It was, without question, the worst dancing disaster Fanny had ever caused, and she’d instigated quite a few.
The dancers around them stopped and stared while Anthony and the other gentlemen in the square sought to help Fanny, the other woman, and David to their feet. Once they were vertical, everyone exchanged hapless expressions.
“Shall we continue?” Anthony asked, as if she hadn’t just brought the entire ballroom—or very nearly—to a standstill.
“Are you sure you dare?” she asked him in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.
“I dare,” David answered after straightening his clothing. He sent her a look of warm encouragement. “And you should too. Come.”
The music hadn’t stopped, and the other squares had gone back to dancing. The other two couples waited, including the woman Fanny’s clumsiness had sent sprawling. “I do apologize,” Fanny said to her.
She was a bit pale and appeared put out to say the least. Her partner, however, leapt to Fanny’s cause. “Accidents happen. You’ve given us quite a story to tell this evening.” He laughed good-naturedly, and soon, everyone was laughing.
Still, Fanny wanted to melt into the floor until the ball was over, then creep back to her sister’s house—the one far away in the country, not the one in London—and never return. Affixing a smile to her lips, she resumed her position in the square, and they did their best to start up again.
Unfortunately it just wasn’t to be, and it wasn’t entirely Fanny’s fault. She moved hesitantly, waiting to follow what the others did. But no one did anything save Anthony. As he danced to the center by himself, the rest of them burst into laughter.
Perhaps this would make a good tale after all.
At last the music ended, and they parted ways with the other pair of couples. Anthony escorted her back toward the corner. “I must thank you for a most memorable evening, particularly for St. Ives. What do you think of London now?” he asked David with a chuckle.
“This was not a good example of London,” Fanny said, throwing him a frown.
“I think,” David said, “that if you’d allowed me to dance with Miss Snowden, you’d have been the one sprawled on the dance floor.” His tone was droll, and Anthony laughed again.
“So I would have. I’ll owe you one. Now, we must return to the club. Hopefully, we haven’t missed the spectacle.”
“What spectacle?” Sarah looked at her brother in suspicion.
“It’s nothing to do with me,” he said to Sarah before bowing to Fanny. “Until next time, Miss Snowden.”
“I don’t think there will be a next time. I may put my dancing slippers away for good.”
Sarah patted her arm. “You’ve said that before. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” She smiled prettily toward David. “It was lovely to meet you, my lord. I do hope we’ll see you again soon.”
“The pleasure was entirely mine.” He bowed to Sarah and then to Fanny, his gaze lingering on her as he rose back to his full height.
Fanny could scarcely believe he was real. She’d begun to wonder if he’d been a dream. She’d looked for him for weeks before coming to London, never imagining she’d find him here. As a bloody earl.
The gentlemen took their leave, and Sarah immediately sidled closer as they watched them depart. “Oh, he is very handsome, even if he’s not much of a dancer. He barely knew the steps, did you see? His gaze was completely fixed on what Anthony was doing. I daresay that disaster wasn’t entirely your fault.” Sarah patted the curls near her face. “Very handsome. And an earl to boot.”
“Yes, an earl,” Fanny said, irritated that she hadn’t been able to ask why he’d lied to her. She watched him move through the crowd, his dark head visible above most.
She’d been about to tell Sarah that he was David, the mystery kissing steward Fanny had told her all about, but the revelation crumbled to ash in her mouth. Why tell her new, very dear friend that the man she found attractive was the man Fanny had kissed and fantasized about these past four months?
Sarah was lovely and charming, the daughter of a viscount, and in search of a husband. It was also her f
ourth Season, and she was far more in need of one than Fanny. In fact, Fanny didn’t need one at all. She had no parents prodding her to wed. Oh, her parents had tried prodding her in that direction until her sister Ivy had rescued her from her dull life in Yorkshire and laid a new future before her. That future included a home with Ivy and her family as long as Fanny wanted it.
Did that mean she would so easily relinquish the man she’d dreamt about?
He and Anthony disappeared from the ballroom, and the surroundings suddenly seemed dimmer.
“What are you thinking?” Sarah asked. “You watched my brother the entire time he made his way through the ballroom.”
“Not your brother,” Fanny said softly, apparently abandoning her earlier intent to keep David’s identity secret. “I was staring at David.”
“David?” Sarah sounded perplexed.
Fanny turned her head to look at her friend. “David.”
Sarah’s eyes rounded as realization struck. “David!” Her jaw dropped, and she looked back toward where they’d exited the ballroom. “You never said he was an earl.”
“I didn’t know until tonight.” Not being able to query him about it was driving her mad.
“Your mystery steward just became more mysterious,” Sarah said.
Indeed he had. And she had every intention of solving the puzzle.
Chapter 2
The spotted flycatcher perched on the tree outside David’s study window made him smile. Perhaps living in the city wouldn’t be so tedious. Especially knowing Frances was there.
He still couldn’t quite believe his luck—both to have found her again and to find she wasn’t, in fact, a housemaid. He’d thought of her often since kissing her, an act he ought to regret but couldn’t bring himself to, and had worked to put her from his mind. He could have no future with a housemaid, but with the sister-in-law of a duke…
“My lord?”
David turned to see his secretary, Graham Kinsley, standing in the doorway. “Why are you still calling me that?”
“I shall always call you that,” Graham said, stepping over the threshold.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” David grumbled. He sat down at the desk while Graham took the chair angled to the side.
“Here is your correspondence, including a rather robust stack of invitations.” Graham set the missives on the desk.
“Robust?” David asked.
“You’re the new earl in town,” Graham said. “Curiosity is bound to run amok.”
“Put like that, it sounds dreadful.”
Graham’s dark gaze took on a sardonic cast. “You think all of this is dreadful.”
“I didn’t think I’d have to do this so soon.”
“Neither did I,” Graham said, reminding David that he was only slightly more enthused about any of this than he was. Four generations of Kinsley secretaries had worked for four generations of the Earls of St. Ives. When David’s father had died in October, Graham’s father had retired his position, leaving it for Graham to take over. And so here they were, raised together from boyhood and now conquering this together too.
“Do you want to decide which invitations to accept, or do you require my assistance?” Graham asked.
“What do we know? Can they wait until my mother arrives?” He hated these kinds of details and couldn’t imagine Graham liked them either.
Graham’s ebony brows twitched. “Do you really want her choosing what you do?”
“She knows better than I do.” She’d actually spent considerable time in London, unlike David.
“I know you’ve never particularly cared about social events in the past, but now you must.” Graham blinked at him. “On second thought, forget I said that. You don’t have to go to a damned thing if you don’t want to.”
But he wanted to. How else would he be able to see Frances? “I’d like to go to a few things. I mean, I should.”
Graham narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
David should have realized Graham would pick up on his sudden interest in something he’d never paid much attention to. “I met some gentlemen last night—including the Earl of Ware. They’ve offered to help me acclimate.”
“So see them at the club. If I were you, that’s where I’d focus my time.” Graham had always been more of a pleasure seeker than David, who’d been far more discreet, at least when it came to women. At Cambridge, Graham’s reputation for revelry had been legendary. “Unless there’s some other reason you want to go to a ball. Or a rout.”
“What the devil is a rout again?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
David gave him a bland smile steeped in sarcasm. “I didn’t actually hear a question.”
Graham laughed. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
There wasn’t any point in enlightening him about Frances. Not now anyway. They’d shared a kiss and lied to each other. He was likely mistaken to harbor any hope.
“I thought we’d go to Tattersall’s on Monday to select a sporting vehicle,” Graham said. “I still recommend a phaeton.”
“So you can drive it.”
Graham shrugged. “Perhaps. You like phaetons.”
“I did until I crashed one.” That had been David’s reputation at Cambridge—driving fast. He’d been unbeatable until he’d botched a turn, distracted by a heron. He had to be the only man whose attention could be stolen by a bloody bird. There was just something about them and what they represented: freedom.
“It’s past time you got back on the perch.”
The butler, a flat-faced man Graham had hired last month, arrived in the doorway. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but you have a pair of visitors. The Earl of Ware and Mr. Anthony Colton.”
David rose, which prompted Graham to stand too. “You can stay here and deal with that,” David said, gesturing toward the pile of correspondence on the desk. It still felt odd, having his friend work for him, but they’d known this would come to pass. Again, it had just occurred sooner than they’d thought. David looked at Trask, the butler. “I’ll meet them in the drawing room.”
“Very good, sir.” Trask offered a quick bow before taking himself off.
David rounded the desk and looked to Graham. “Are you certain you find this arrangement acceptable? I could find another secretary.”
“And what would I do instead?” Graham arched a brow. “I lack funds, position, and interest in anything else. If I ever win a sizeable pot that would allow me to pursue a life of indolence, you can find a new secretary.” He laughed, clapping David’s shoulder as he moved around him to sit behind the desk.
Shaking his head with a faint smile, David went upstairs to the drawing room. Ware and Anthony stood near the windows overlooking Bolton Street.
“Afternoon, St. Ives,” Anthony said, turning. “We’re on our way to the park and wondered if you’d care to join us.”
David noted their horses were in front of his house, with one of his grooms attending them. “I’m not dressed for riding.”
“We didn’t think you would be. We can walk today, knowing you’ve no quarrel with that activity.” He and Ware exchanged smiles that prompted David to let out a brief chuckle. “Tomorrow we’ll ride, unless you decide you hate the park.”
He looked between them. “Is there something to hate?”
Ware lifted his shoulder. “Besides matchmaking mamas and overeager husband hunters? Not a thing.”
“Ignore him,” Anthony said. “He’s sensitive to anything to do with marriage.”
Ware nodded rather somberly. “It makes me violently ill.”
David laughed. “I will endeavor to remember that. Let me just fetch my hat and gloves.”
Ten minutes later, they were on their way to Hyde Park along Piccadilly. “I thought you were supposed to go at five o’clock,” David said. It was only half four.
“It’s close enough,” Anthony answered. “Felix has to conduct a meeting at a quarter before the hour.”
“What sort of meet
ing?” David knew he was lacking when it came to London habits, but meeting in the park was one he hadn’t even heard of.
“I’m starting up weekly races,” Felix said as they neared Hyde Park Gate.
David had learned last night that Felix was the facilitator of amusement. “Aren’t there clubs that race?”
“Yes, but exclusive clubs are so boring.” Felix stretched the last word a bit.
“I see.” David would likely have a phaeton by then. He hadn’t felt an urge to race in some time, but the desire swept over him rather fiercely for a moment. “I used to race.”
Felix’s brows shot up. “Did you? Well, then it’s good you came with us so you can attend the meeting.” He gave his walking stick a jaunty flick as they walked into the park through the gate.
“Down by the Serpentine?” Anthony asked.
At Felix’s answering nod, they made their way in that direction. David had been there a few times, but not in years. He followed their lead down to the bank of the water. Right away, he began cataloguing the waterfowl—coots, moorhens, and a few tufted ducks.
A handful of men had gathered, and David listened with one ear while he focused on the birds. A pair of mated swans glided into view. David made a mental list so he could write down all he’d seen when he returned home. He could see that morning walks to the park might become his habit.
Then his attention was drawn to something else entirely. A trio of women coming down a different path toward the Serpentine, one of whom was Frances Snowden.
He’d hated not being able to speak with her more privately last night. He wasn’t going to let that happen again today.
Having lost all interest in the racing meeting and knowing Ware and Anthony would inform him of what he’d missed, David made his way to intercept the women. He recognized Anthony’s sister as one of the other two, but the third was unknown to him.