The Lady In Question

by Victoria Alexander

  She stared for an endless moment, mesmerized by the meeting of their eyes in the dark reflection of the window with the lights of the ballroom and the crowd behind them, caught in a spell of something entirely too special. Something magic.

  She forced herself to break free and turned toward him, a light note in her voice. “And how are you finding London, my lord?”

  He raised an amused brow as if he knew precisely why she had changed the subject. Precisely what she’d been feeling. “I find London much the same as always.”

  “Do you spend a great deal of time here, then?”

  “Some.” He stepped closer, caught her hand and drew it to his lips. “I should like to spend a great deal more. There is much to be admired about the city.”

  “Oh?” A tremor of excitement ran up her arm at his touch, but she kept her voice cool. “And what is it you admire?”

  “The sights, Miss Effington.” His voice was low. “I find I quite appreciate the sights of London.”

  She reluctantly but firmly reclaimed her hand. “Any sights in particular?”

  “One sight, in particular, has attracted my interest.” He stared down at her.

  “Has it?” There was an odd, breathless tone to her voice.

  “Miss Effington, I have a question to ask you.” His gaze searched hers and her heart caught in her throat.

  “Yes?”

  “I would very much like to…”

  Take me into the gardens and make me yours right here? Right now?

  “Yes?”

  He straightened his shoulders slightly and for just an instant she had the distinct impression Lord Mysterious was apprehensive. “I should very much like to speak to your father and ask permission to call on you formally.”

  For a moment she could do nothing more than stare.

  “Miss Effington?”

  “Why?” she blurted.

  “Why?” His brow furrowed. “Because that’s what one does when one is in a situation like this.”

  She studied him suspiciously. “A situation like what?”

  “A situation wherein” — he drew a deep breath, as if just that moment making up his mind — “a gentleman has met a lady he may well not be able to live without.”

  “Really?” She stared in delight.

  “Really.” He nodded in a no-nonsense manner and stepped closer. “Indeed, Miss Effington, I cannot seem to get you out of my head.”

  “You can’t?” Without thinking, she took a backward step.

  He moved toward her again with an eager, even enthusiastic step. “Day and night, all I can think about is you. You’ve even invaded my dreams. I can no longer get a decent night’s rest. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

  “I rather like the idea of driving a man mad.” She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug and again stepped away. As much as she wanted more than a mere kiss with this man, it was perhaps too soon for more. “And are you mad, my lord?”

  “Yes, blast it all, I am bloody well insane.” He glanced around and she realized their odd dance had taken them behind the palms to a spot of relative privacy. “And you, Miss Effington” — he grabbed her shoulders — “are the reason why.”

  He yanked her to him and kissed her hard and long, until she thought her toes would curl and the rest of her pool into a lifeless heap at his feet. Perhaps it was not too soon for more after all.

  Abruptly he released her and she caught their reflection in the windows, noting in the back of her mind that anyone in the gardens could have witnessed their kiss. Still, at the moment, Cassie’s reputation was not foremost in her thoughts.

  Delia gazed up at him, her voice breathless. “Am I?”

  “Yes, you are.” He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt as if they were of paramount importance, but she suspected he needed as much time to catch his breath as she. “And that, Miss Effington, is why I insist on meeting your parents.”

  “I don’t believe they’d at all appreciate a kiss behind the palms,” she murmured, still delightfully befuddled by his kiss. His second kiss, while far shorter than the first, was every bit as wonderful, and she quite looked forward to the third and the fourth and every kiss thereafter.

  “Excellent, as I have no desire to kiss your parents behind the palms or anywhere else.” He shook his head as if to clear away the absurd conversation. “I must confess, I had no intention of saying any of this tonight, but —”

  “Is it the madness, my lord?” she said innocently.

  “Quite.” He grinned ruefully and took her hand. “And I fear it is a permanent affliction.”

  “What a charming thing to say. You do have a nice turn with a phrase.”

  “Thank you.” He studied her carefully. “Now, about speaking to your father.”

  “I would prefer that you didn’t.” She shook her head. “But I do appreciate that you wish to. It says a great deal about your character. Why, I should give any man who has behaved as you have high marks indeed.” She cast him a brilliant smile.

  “I am glad I am up to your standards, Miss Effington, but I am interested in more than your approval. I want…that is, I’d prefer…or rather, I wish…” He glared in annoyance. “Blast it all, Miss Effington, I believe I may well want your hand.”

  “My hand? You mean in marriage?” There was an odd note of horror in her voice.

  He looked as shocked by his declaration as she was. “Well, yes, I think I am talking about marriage.” He shook his head in disbelief that he would say such a thing. “That too was not my intention.”

  She raised a brow.

  “Well, not quite yet. You do tend to muddle a man’s mind, Miss Effington.”

  “First I drive you mad, then I muddle your mind.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that really the kind of woman you wish to marry, my lord?”

  “Not in the least. You are not at all the sort of woman I had planned to marry, but, well, I don’t care.” He looked her square in the eye and she could see he was most determined. “Damnation, Miss Effington, why not? It was probably inevitable. Fate and all that. I knew it the first time I met you. And I know as well that you feel precisely the same way.”

  He stepped toward her and again she stepped back. She needed a clear head for this particular conversation, and her head would be anything but clear if he so much as took her hand. “I will concede that possibly I may feel —”

  “Hah.” He snorted in disbelief. “There is no possibly about it. I can see it in the look in your eye. The tone of your voice.” He lowered his voice. “The eagerness of your kiss.”

  “I should be as eager to kiss anyone who kisses as well as you,” she snapped.

  “Now, now, Miss Effington. Do not forget your reputation,” he said in a smug and most annoying manner. “What would people think if they knew you would be as eager —”

  Shock widened her eyes. “Surely you wouldn’t —”

  “Never,” he said firmly, then grinned in a teasing manner, and all her annoyance with him fled. “But I am most appreciative of the compliment and, I promise, I intend to improve with practice. In point of fact, I intend a great deal of practice.”

  “Oh, my.” She stared up at him, resisting the urge to tell him how very delightful a great deal of practice sounded. She summoned her resolve and lifted her chin. “As much as I do appreciate your determination, I must tell you, my lord, I am not particularly interested in marriage at the moment.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. Every woman is interested in marriage.”

  “I’m not,” she said staunchly. “At least not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I…” She bit back the words just in time. She couldn’t possibly tell him she wasn’t interested in marriage because her first marriage had lasted less than a week and her last husband had been dead barely half a year. Or that she wasn’t interested in marriage with anyone she’d just met no matter how right, how natural it was to be with him. Or that she wasn’t interested in marri
age because marrying once had been the biggest mistake of her life and she wasn’t eager to make another.

  And she certainly couldn’t tell him she wasn’t interested in marriage because she had just begun the life of an independent widow and had yet to become an experienced woman. “I simply don’t see the appeal of marriage, nor the benefits.”

  “The benefits of marriage? I should think that would be obvious for a woman. The protection of a man’s name, at the very least. A respectable position in life. Children. Companionship. Affection.” He studied her curiously. “Don’t you wish for affection?”

  “Most certainly, but —”

  “Have you ever been in love, Miss Effington?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He paused in surprise. “No?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “No, but I am confident I will know it when I see it.”

  “One moment, sir.” She pulled up short and planted her hand on his chest to stop his forward progress. “Are you trying to say that you are in love with me?”

  He thought for a moment. “I believe I might well be.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “Of course I’m not sure.” His brow furrowed in annoyance. “How in the name of all that’s holy can I possibly be sure? I’ve never felt this way before. But if I am not in love…” He grabbed her hand, pulled it to his lips and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. His gaze met hers. “Then I must truly be mad.”

  She ignored the urge to fall into his arms and snatched her hand away. “That is a distinct possibility and something of a problem, I should think.”

  “For you.” A wicked gleam flashed in his eye.

  “Not at all, I…” her gaze locked with his and her resistance eased. “Very well, then, yes, for me. For us both.”

  “It is nice to see we agree on something.” He chuckled. “We shall suit well together, Miss Effington.

  “A charming declaration, but you don’t know me well enough to know whether we shall suit or not.” As much as a part of her wanted to throw caution to the winds and leap headfirst into this man’s life, up to and including marriage, she was not about to make another mistake. One she might well pay for with the rest of her life.

  “Oh, but I do know you. I know the kindness of your nature and the clever way you have with words. I know you are thoughtful and generous and intelligent. I know the pleasure of hearing you laugh and admire the determined note that sounds in your voice. I know the…”

  She stared and his voice faltered.

  He shrugged, his smile apologetic. “Or perhaps I don’t know at all. Perhaps I just imagine that I know.”

  “I am most impressed, my lord, and flattered, and…” Delia shook her head. She was not about to commit herself to marriage, but she dearly wanted to have him in her life. And who knew what might happen in the future? She’d never known a man who might be in love with her. Or mad. But regardless of whether he was truly in love or truly insane, she’d never known a man who made her feel as he did.

  Of course, she could do nothing whatsoever until she told him the truth.

  “My lord.” She met his gaze firmly. “I have another confession to make.”

  “Oh?” He smiled in a teasing manner. “I understood you did not make them lightly or well.”

  “I don’t, but I am getting better at it. Practice, no doubt,” she muttered. She drew a breath and squared her shoulders. “I should tell you—”

  “Cassandra?” A familiar voice sounded behind her.

  Delia’s heart plummeted. She cast St. Stephens an apologetic look and turned slowly. “Good evening, Mother.”

  William and Georgina Effington, Lord and Lady William, stood beside the palms. Delia’s mother wore a look of distinct annoyance. Her father bore the long-suffering smile that typically accompanied his formal attire.

  “I did not expect to see you here, my dear,” Mother said, her considering gaze moving from Delia to St. Stephens and back. “Needless to say, when someone who had been wandering in the gardens claimed to have seen you through the windows in what might be a most compromising position, I said it couldn’t possibly be you, as you weren’t even here.” She studied her daughter thoughtfully. “You can imagine my surprise to discover I was wrong.”

  “Indeed I can,” Delia said weakly.

  “Nonetheless, I —” Mother sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. “Good Lord. Phil —”

  “Lady William,” St. Stephens said smoothly, stepping forward. “I can assure you nothing untoward happened here this evening. Your daughter and I have been having a most pleasant conversation and I suspect anyone who claims to have seen otherwise has, in truth, seen nothing more than an image distorted by the glass.”

  Delia released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

  “Very good,” Father murmured. “We’ll stick with that then.”

  St. Stephens turned toward her father. “Sir, I am not sure if you remember me, but we met last week at Effington Hall.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded. “Of course. St. Stephens, isn’t it? My brother speaks quite highly of you.”

  “I am honored, sir. I had planned on calling on you at a later date, but this seems as good a time as any.” St. Stephens cast Delia a quick smile. “I should like your permission to call on Miss Effington.”

  “Miss Effington? You mean Cassandra?” Her father’s gaze shot to her and she smiled uneasily. For as long as she could remember, he could immediately tell one of his daughters from the other. He claimed it was something in their eyes. He choked back what might have been a cough but was more likely a laugh.

  “Sir?” St. Stephens said. “Are you all right?”

  “I haven’t been all right in years.” He eyed his daughter pointedly. “Not since I had children. Daughters in particular. Damned difficult creatures. Age a man before his time.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Delia murmured.

  “I shall remember that, sir,” St. Stephens said. “Now, about this particular daughter —”

  “I have nothing to say about this particular daughter at the moment.” Her father fixed her with a steady stare. “I believe she has a great deal to say before I do.”

  “Or rather a great deal to explain.” Her mother glared at her.

  “And I understand there are cigars in the library, which is where I would much rather be right now. So if you will excuse me…” Her father took her hands and leaned close, his voice low and for her alone. “You do realize there will be hell to pay for this, and you are well aware of precisely what that hell is. Is he worth the trouble?”

  “Honestly, Father, I don’t know, but I should very much like to find out.”

  “Be careful, my dear.” His gaze searched hers. “But then I’d wager you will be. You have learned hard lessons and I suspect you have learned them well.”

  She sighed. “I do hope so, Father.”

  He smiled and stepped back. “On further thought, as excellent as Lord Puget’s cigars are, I fear I shall have to pass. We have another engagement this evening and should be on our way. Georgina?”

  Her mother pinned Delia with a pointed look. “I assume you will be accompanying us?”

  “Nonsense,” her father said quickly. “She probably has a carriage waiting and can certainly return home the same way she arrived.”

  “Thank you, Father.” Relief washed through her.

  “Very well,” her mother said with a sigh of resignation. “As it is getting late, we will discuss this tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course.” Delia forced a pleasant smile, and why not smile now? Tomorrow would hold nothing to smile about. “I shall quite look forward to it.”

  Her mother leaned closer and kissed Delia’s cheek. “I wouldn’t.”

  Her parents murmured their farewells, then headed toward the entry.

  “Are your parents always that enigmatic?” St. Stephens asked.

  “Usually they
are quite direct, as I should be. However, my mother was right. It is far later than I realized and I must be off.”

  “But what of your confession? Surely you’re not going to leave me hanging? You could not possibly tease me that way?”

  “Oh, but I quite enjoy teasing you, my lord.” Her manner was offhand in spite of the turmoil in her stomach.

  It would have been a much simpler matter to tell him she was not actually Miss anything but rather Lady Wilmont before her parents arrived. And that was certainly her intention. But now that he had asked permission to call on her, confession would be most awkward. The man might well be horribly embarrassed, even humiliated. It was entirely possible he would not want to see her again after learning the truth. Oh, not because she was a widow with a touch of scandal in her past, but because she had lied to him. He was, from all she could determine, a man with a very definite sense of honor.

  The least she could do was make certain he was spared any further embarrassment in public.

  She thought for a moment. “My…my sister is having a few guests for dinner tomorrow night and I should quite like it if you could attend.”

  “On one condition.”

  “You too?” She sighed. Did everyone in the world have conditions for her? “Very well.”

  “I shall attend only if you promise to confess all, although I can’t imagine any sins you may have committed that require more than a causal mention. Your last confession was simply that of a faulty memory, and in truth” — he smiled boyishly — “that was my doing. Unless, of course” — his gaze bored into hers — “you wish to confess that you have no feelings for me whatsoever.”

  “And if indeed that is my confession?”

  “You shall quite break my heart, Miss Effington.” He sighed in an overly dramatic manner. “And you shall leave me no recourse.”

  “Oh?”

  He shook his head in feigned remorse. “I shall be forced to mount a campaign that will make any of Wellington’s pale in comparison.”

  She laughed. “I should like to see that.”

  “Oh, if necessary, Miss Effington, you shall.” He leaned closer, his dark eyes simmering. Her breath caught. “You see, Effingtons are not the only ones who refuse to lose.”