Joshua refused to contemplate anything so drastic. The ramifications were too terrifying. Instead, he pushed all thought of his father to the back of his mind and concentrated again on the crush of guests crowding into the Earl of Ploddingdale’s townhouse. Perhaps she would be here again tonight. Lady Allison Townsend.
He’d discovered her name after their unforgettable meeting in Lady Cowpepper’s garden. For some reason he didn’t understand, he couldn’t erase her from his mind. What a spitfire the lady was.
Joshua cradled his glass of brandy while his gaze swept the room. He looked for her at every function he attended. He refused to consider why he was so fascinated with her. Perhaps the attraction was nothing more than curiosity over a woman brave enough, or foolish enough to slap him—twice.
He lifted the glass to take another drink, then stopped with his arm midway to his mouth. There she was. Ready to descend the stairs and make her introductions to their host and hostess.
A smile crossed his lips. She looked even lovelier this evening than she had the last time he’d seen her. The gown she wore tonight reminded him of the way she’d looked the night he’d mistaken her for Lady Paxton. The style showed off her full bodice and narrow waist to perfection.
He remembered how perfectly she’d fit in his arms and how heavily her breast had rested in the palm of his hand.
Her neck was bare again except for the exquisite necklace of glowing emeralds that matched her dark green gown. The lower half of his body tightened uncomfortably when he recalled his lips nuzzling her soft, delicate flesh. She was a challenge, far more complex than any other female he knew. But she was the last woman he would allow to trap him.
She was far too intelligent to manipulate, far too independent to control, and her tongue was far too sharp for his taste. It was obvious her expectations were high, and the man who married her would never be able to get by with even the smallest indiscretion. And because she was in attendance again tonight, rumors that she was serious in her attempt to find a husband were undoubtedly true.
The thought chilled his blood and sent a warning racing through him. Yet, for some reason he could not explain, she remained an enigma—an enigma with mysterious powers that drew him to her.
At every ball and social event held in the last two weeks, he’d approached her at least once a night to ask her to dance. He enjoyed seeing her shocked expression turn to anger. Just as he enjoyed every excuse she made as to why she couldn’t oblige him: her dance card was filled; she was tired and preferred to sit this dance out; she’d injured her ankle on the last dance; she needed to speak with her brother; or the excuse she most commonly used, she’d promised this dance to Lord Archbite, who followed her around like a love-smitten puppy.
It was more than a game to Joshua now. Taunting her was his answer to ease the boredom that suffocated him each evening. He loved to see her cheeks flush when he approached her, but even more, he reveled in the fire that flashed from her eyes when she was forced to acknowledge him.
Hell, she was a fiery thing. But at least she hadn’t slapped him again.
“On whom are you concentrating? Surely it can’t be the unapproachable Lady Allison again?”
Joshua turned to find his closest friend, Lionel Fortright, Earl of Chardwell, standing next to him. The two had formed a bond in their youth that had deepened over the years. Joshua welcomed Chardwell’s presence with his usual sense of relief, and smiled.
“She doesn’t appear to be happy tonight. Can you tell?”
“Take care, my friend,” Chardwell said, taking a glass from a passing footman’s tray. “The rumor circulating is that she must marry before her twenty-fifth birthday or lose a dowry that is the envy of every female in London.”
“Oh, I have no intention of being caught in that trap. But why do you think she hasn’t married before now?” Joshua asked. “Has she made no attempt to find a husband until this Season?”
“Don’t you remember? She was betrothed several years ago—to Viscount Bradley. The Earl of Puttingsworth killed him in a jealous rage after finding him in bed with his wife.”
“Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten that scandal? It was talked about for most of that Season. No wonder...”
“No wonder what?”
“Oh, nothing.” Joshua concentrated on Lady Allison and smiled. “Look, Chardwell. The pressures of selecting a suitable husband must be weighing on her.”
“How can you know that?”
“Look at the frown on her pretty forehead and the way her lips press together.” Joshua slowly sipped from his glass. “And see how she’s fisting her hands at her side?”
Chardwell shook his head on a laugh. “I think you’ve spent too much time studying the lady if you notice such small details, Montfort.”
“She’s an interesting woman to study.” He kept his gaze on her. He knew eventually she’d notice him. She always did. Their gazes somehow seemed drawn to each other. Then her cheeks would flush a vibrant, rosy hue and he would see another flash of fire in her eyes. Every nerve in his body tingled in anticipation.
“Are you going to ask her to dance again tonight?”
“Of course. The first waltz.”
“Aren’t you tired of being rejected?”
“I’ve become immune. Besides, I believe she’s weakening to my charms.”
“Weakening?” Chardwell laughed so loudly the couples standing close turned to stare.
Joshua gave his friend a sideways glance that contained more than a bit of humor.
“If anything,” Chardwell continued, his voice much softer, “she’s more resolved than ever to avoid you. She was barely polite when she refused you at the Codmore ball on Wednesday.”
“I think she did not feel well.” Joshua watched her make her way down the stairs behind her brother and his wife, the Earl and Countess of Hartley. “I wasn’t the only one she refused.”
“I noticed she didn’t refuse Archbite his two dances.”
Joshua didn’t respond, but watched as she greeted their host and hostess, then stepped into the crush of people. “I seem to have lost her, Chardwell. Do you see her?”
“You’d best be careful, Montfort. She’s become quite an obsession.”
He looked at his friend in shock. “It’s a game. I’ve never met a woman who took such an instant dislike to me. I’m used to unabashed adoration when I turn on my charm, not open hostility.”
“I can imagine what a blow she is to your ego.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I simply enjoy sparring with her. She’s a challenge. Nothing more.”
“I hope I won’t have an opportunity to remind you of that on your wedding day.”
“Bloody hell, man. You’ll never see me take a trip down the aisle. Can you imagine the pleasure half of London would get from seeing me leg shackled? I would never give them such satisfaction.”
“People who play with fire have been known to get burned. And rumor has it she’s attending the nightly round of parties because her twenty-fifth birthday is approaching. If she intends to keep her inheritance, she will have to marry before that date.”
“How interesting.” He cast a glance over the crowd and found the lovely Lady Allison as she reached a gathering of ladies against the opposite side of the ballroom.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of falling into any woman’s trap. Fortunately, she has already decided I won’t do.”
He took note of her fiery copper hair and deep emerald gown and his breath caught. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Dear Lord, what a vision.
“If you’ll excuse me, Chardwell,” he said, handing his empty glass to a passing footman, “I think it is almost time for the orchestra to play a waltz.”
He ignored Chardwell’s hearty laugh and walked toward her. He kept his head high and wore a confident smile on his face. Her presence made having to be here almost enjoyable. He would miss her when their little game was over.
+++
The d
ull throbbing in Allison’s head grew more intense with each passing minute. She knew exactly when it had started. The minute her brother David had summoned her to his study again this afternoon to discuss her progress in choosing a husband.
Less than four weeks remained until her twenty-fifth birthday.
She’d tried again to convince him to allow her to remain single. She’d tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t listen to anything she said. She’d even promised she would remain in the country and not be a bother to anyone. But he’d refused to consider her suggestion. The more she argued that she didn’t want to marry, the more adamant he became. And the angrier. He even repeated his threat to choose a husband for her if she didn’t choose one herself in the next two weeks.
She fisted her hands. What was so terrible about a woman wanting to live her life without taking a husband? Surely she wasn’t the only woman in all of London who didn’t want to marry.
She thought of the courage it took for her sisters to walk proudly at their husbands’ sides, pretending it didn’t matter that their husbands did not love them enough to be faithful. She could never be so brave.
Couldn’t David understand that she could never face Society if it was common knowledge that her husband kept a mistress? Couldn’t he understand her pride would never survive?
No, he couldn’t. He’d been unsympathetic through every argument, which was why her attempts to plead a headache and stay home tonight met with his flat refusal. Now she’d have to put up with the noise, the laughter, the gossip...and the Marquess of Montfort’s insistent demand to dance a waltz again tonight.
Her head pounded anew and she looked longingly at the open double doors that led onto the patio. She’d give anything to be able to hide in the dark until this evening was over. But that was impossible.
“Lady Allison.”
She spun around. The Earl of Archbite stood beside her.
“I was hoping you would be here tonight.”
She felt her cheeks warm. And her heart plummet. She hadn’t seen him approach. Didn’t want his attention— not tonight.
“Lord Archbite.” She pasted a friendly smile on her face though she didn’t feel at all like smiling. “How nice to see you.”
“There’s quite a crush tonight, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Lady Ploddingdale’s creativity is seldom surpassed.” Allison took note of the footmen dressed in puce and lime green, and shuddered.
“Oh, yes,” Archbite continued. “Tonight’s affair is overflowing with color. Puts one in quite the festive mood, doesn’t it?”
Allison forced a smile. Inside, she cringed. Could Lord Archbite be serious? She concluded that he was. Ugh! “Yes,” she answered, because an answer seemed necessary. “It’s very...festive.”
She scanned the growing crowd as she listened to the music the orchestra played from the other side of the room. They were in the middle of a quadrille, and after the quadrille, they generally played a waltz. Her pulse raced and her blood pounded harder in her head. Perhaps tonight he would not bother her. Perhaps she’d set him down hard enough the last time that she’d convinced him she didn’t intend to dance with him—ever.
The music ended and the dancers moved to find partners for the next set. She lifted her gaze to look around the room and her heart stuttered in her chest. He was coming toward her, his broad shoulders filling his handsomely tailored jacket to perfection, his expertly tied cravat glowing a brilliant white against his bronzed skin. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Then his gaze locked with hers and his lips parted to a wide-open smile.
From halfway across the room he graced her with a look so breathtaking it stole the air from her body. How dare he bother her again tonight. What more did she have to do to convince him she didn’t want him anywhere near her?
Her temper simmered at a slow boil as she prepared to give him the set-down he deserved.
“…haven’t forgotten. Have you?” Percy finished, pulling her back from her nightmare.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I wanted to remind you of Mother’s musicale tomorrow night.”
She tried to take a deep breath and find a reply to Percy’s question but found it impossible. The Marquess of Montfort stood directly behind Percy.
He towered over poor Percy by almost a head, and his shoulders outstretched Percy’s by nearly half a foot on either side. Percy looked more effeminate tonight than usual. Montfort more threatening.
So far, Percy hadn’t noticed Montfort standing behind him. She prayed he wouldn’t turn around. She feared Montfort might startle him.
“Your mother what?”
“Her musical. I want to make sure you plan to attend.”
She forced a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Wonderful. Do you need transportation? I could send a carriage for you?”
Montfort rudely shook his head as if to prompt her refusal.
“Ah, no.” She directed an angry glare in Montfort’s direction. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. My brother and his wife also plan to attend. I’ll come with them.”
Montfort gave her a nod, as if her answer met with his approval.
“I also wondered,” Percy said hesitantly, “if you would be available for callers tomorrow afternoon?”
Montfort lifted his brows and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he, too, were interested in her answer.
“If you are receiving, I would like to call on you.”
Montfort’s brows furrowed into a deep frown and he shook his head as if he expected her to heed his advice and refuse Lord Archbite’s request to visit.
“I have no plans to go out,” she answered. Regrettably, her words came out clipped and angry, and Percy looked at her in confusion. He hesitated with uncertainty before he continued.
“Perhaps then we could take a drive through the park?”
Montfort shook his head harder and Allison gritted her teeth in frustration.
“No! Yes! I would be delighted!”
Percy blinked twice when she growled out her answer and looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer not to,” he stammered. “Or it rains.”
The tone of his voice was filled with trepidation. She knew her flare of temper confused and intimidated him.
“No, I’d love to.” Her head pounded, her cheeks burned, her temper neared the boiling point. And the orchestra struck a waltz.
The Marquess of Montfort picked that moment to step out from behind Percy. “Lady Allison.” He bowed graciously before her. “I believe this is my waltz.”
“No!”
Several people standing nearby turned to look at her. Even Percy stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment. Only Montfort smiled.
“Please,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “I beg of you. Don’t turn me away brokenhearted again.”
In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, Percy lifted his shoulders and faced the dragon in her defense. “The lady made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to dance with you.”
Montfort’s narrowed gaze drilled Percy and a cold chill washed over her.
Neither man moved a muscle.
The expression on Montfort’s face darkened and she knew only raw determination kept Percy from shrinking away.
She held her breath. They looked like David and Goliath facing each other. Only Allison’s David didn’t have any special advantage on his side. Montfort didn’t need any.
“I believe I was speaking to Lady Allison,” Montfort responded, his tone soft and deadly. Allison heard the threat in his voice. Felt the danger.
Percy obviously didn’t. He puffed his narrow shoulders. “And I believe I heard the lady say she did not want to dance with you.”
A muscle at the side of Montfort’s jaw twitched. This had gone far enough. Of course, she was not concerned for Montfort, but for Percy. She knew she had to stop the two adversar
ies before they caused a scene. Before Percy got hurt.
“I have changed my mind, Lord Archbite.” She placed her hand on Percy’s arm. “I did promise Lord Montfort this dance.” She turned to Montfort. “I apologize, my lord. I forgot.”
“Are you sure?” Percy asked. The look on his face told her he would fight to the death for her.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
With an angry scowl, Percy stepped back when Montfort extended his arm.
She hesitated, then placed her hand on Montfort’s sleeve. She could feel Percy’s glare as they made their way onto the dance floor.
“Why are you doing this?” she said under her breath when he pulled her toward him to begin their dance.
She couldn’t remember ever being so angry. She had always been able to brush suitors off. Why was Montfort so different? He wasn’t serious about courting her. He’d made that fact perfectly clear the first time they’d met.
“Doing what?” He stepped in perfect time to the lilting waltz, effortlessly gliding across the floor with her in his arms. He was an expert dancer. But she knew he would be. She pursed her lips in an angry pout.
“Don’t play the fool, my lord. You know exactly what I mean. Pursuing me when I have made it more than clear that I want nothing whatsoever to do with you. Bothering me when I have repeatedly indicated I don’t want you anywhere near.”
“Is that what your refusals meant?” The look of innocence on his face was almost laughable.
“You know it is.”
He executed another turn and held her even closer. She pulled away. “It’s not proper to hold me so close. People will talk.”
“People are already talking. Dancing with me is cause for people to talk.” He arched an eyebrow, which gave him a dark, rakish look. “I have a reputation, you know.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Everyone knows your reputation. You’ve done nothing by your words or actions to quell the wild rumors and speculation that surround you.”
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