Or had she already met him?
Her heart ached at the woeful reflection. Her parents would never approve of her courtship with the indigent grandson of an earl, so even if Marcus was Prince Charming, she had to stop dreaming about kismet and do the sensible thing: she had to find a tiresome lord and make a good match.
As soon as the music ended, Ella skirted away from her partner and retrieved a glass of champagne. Sipping the sparkling wine, trying to ease the spasms of her heart, she heard the grand marshal’s staff thump the marble floor before he announced:
“The Earl of Tyne.”
Ella choked on the champagne. What was that old boor doing at the ball?
She whirled around—and blanched.
Marcus!
He stood in the arched doorway, dapper in elegant black togs, white vest and white cravat. His sharp gaze scanned the crowded ballroom, and as soon as his umber eyes landed on her, he cut through the crush—heading straight toward her.
When he reached her, he bowed. “Might I have the pleasure of a dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?”
She accepted his gloved hand, dazed.
“You … But I thought … How?” she stammered as he waltzed her around the ballroom.
“Beautiful and a scintillating conversationalist,” he returned with a jaunty smile. “What a boon!”
She’d forgotten how provoking he was at times, and scowled. “Are you mad?” she exclaimed, finally finding her voice. “Impersonating your grandfather? You will be found out, Marcus.”
“I’m not impersonating the earl,” he said in a staid tone. “I am the earl. My grandfather died a month ago.”
“Oh, Marcus, I’m sorry … But I thought he refused to acknowledge you as his heir?”
“He had a change of heart on his death bed
“Really?”
“Aye, I am the Earl of Tyne. I’m also the land steward, the architect, the stone mason, the builder and perhaps a few other titles I can’t remember at the moment.”
“What have you done with the estate?”
“I rented the land to farmers. I sold the stones of the manor house to several masons and builders, while keeping a few for myself, to adorn the much smaller manor house I’m constructing on the property.”
She smiled, impressed. “You have your father’s wits, I see.”
“Aye, princess, I do.”
Ah, to be his “princess” again; her toes verily curled. She had missed him. She hadn’t realized just how much until that dreamy moment.
As the music quieted, he whispered, “Meet me in the garden at midnight.”
He bowed. She curtsied. And then she counted—the very seconds—until midnight.
When the clock chimed twelve, she skulked from the ballroom into the garden and found Marcus stationed near the stone ledge.
She hiked the hem of her skirt and sprinted toward the half wall, then stilled across from him, breathless.
His copper-like eyes glowed in the milky moonlight, and her heart pattered with want.
“Marcus, I—”
“Mao.”
Ella shrieked.
Gus jumped onto the ledge and plopped his rump on the stones. His suspicious gaze flicked between them, as if inquiring: What are you two doing out here? Alone?
“I see we have a chaperone,” said Marcus, voice heavy with humor.
“Gus,” she hissed. “Go away.”
“Mao,” said Gus and nestled on the wall, tucking his paws under his plump belly.
Marcus scratched the back of the cat’s ear. “I understand I have you to thank for the return of my father’s button. I guess you’re my fairy godfather?”
“Mao,” returned Gus, purring with gratification.
“Aye,” said Ella, feeling a tad giddy. “I suppose he is that.”
After all, if Gus had not found the button in the garden, she would never have located her Lord Cinder … Hmm. There was something right about that title—Lord Cinder. It suited the new earl far better than Lord Tyne. And not just Lord Cinder but her Lord Cinder. And she desperately wanted a moment alone with him.
She remembered, then, the cat’s fetish for footwear and removed her silk slipper, tossing it into the bushes. Gus shot pell-mell after the shoe, digging through the foliage, the branches rustling and snapping with verve.
“Alone at last,” from Marcus, brow quirked.
“No more teasing,” said Ella—and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him for all she was worth.
After a tense pause, he slipped his arms around her midriff, lifting her off the ground and pressing her tight against his chest.
She sighed with pleasure, her shoeless leg rearing in utter delight.
“Oh, Marcus,” she gushed, gasping for air, shivers of warmth skipping over her spine.
“I feel the same way, princess,” he whispered and nuzzled her brow. “Would you do me the honor of a courtship?”
A peel of laughter. “Aye, I would love to be your Cinder-Ella.”
THE END
MORE ROMANCES BY ALEXANDRA BENEDICT
CASTLES IN THE SKY
Ashes
Her Lord Cinder
THE HAWKINS BROTHERS SERIES
Mistress of Paradise
The Infamous Rogue
The Notorious Scoundrel
How to Seduce a Pirate
How to Steal a Pirate’s Heart (includes:
All I Want for Christmas is a Pirate)
THE TOO SERIES/WESTMORE BROTHERS
Too Great a Temptation
Too Scandalous to Wed
Too Dangerous to Desire
THE FALLEN LADIES SOCIETY
The Princess and the Pauper
STAND ALONE ROMANCE
A Forbidden Love
ANTHOLOGY
Tales of Forbidden Love
YOUNG ADULT FICTION
So Down I Fall
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexandra Benedict is the author of several historical romances published by Avon Books. She also writes fiction as an Indie Author. Her work has received critical acclaim from Booklist and a starred review from Publishers Weekly. All of her books are translated into various languages. For more information visit: www.AlexandraBenedict.ca. Or friend her on FACEBOOK.
Her Lord Cinder Page 3