The Reluctant Suitor
Page 28
Latham all but leered at her as he whisked a pale knuckle beneath the curled ends of his thin mustache. An unusual warmth ignited his hazel eyes as they ranged the length of her, causing her to wonder if he imagined her without undergarments under the numerous layers of gossamer silk that had gone into the making of her gown. Had that truly been the case, only a diviner of the thoroughly hidden would have been able to discern evidence of her pale body beneath the uppermost shift of diaphanous silk, for tiny, dangling crystals thoroughly encrusted it. The shimmering adornments, of the same midnight turquoise hue as the fragile cloth upon which they were attached, served as a dazzling armor of defense, yet in a most delicate way.
Latham’s gaze reversed itself and seemed inclined to pause overlong on the enticing fullness above her décolletage. From there, it seemed to take a colossal effort for him to drag his gaze higher still. Finally, he glanced aside, as if to reclaim his composure, and loudly cleared his throat before bestowing an ingratiating smile upon her. “I was beginning to fear I’d never find you without your consort of suitors, Lady Adriana. I finally despaired of getting close to you at your sister’s wedding, for they surrounded you like an impenetrable rampart. Every eligible bachelor from London to Bath must have been there, except, of course, my cousin. Don’t know what he was looking at, but after spending so many years in the military, Colton probably got too comfortable with camp-followers to know what real beauty is. You know how those officers are wont to dally here and there in their leisure. . . .”
“No, actually I’m afraid I don’t,” Adriana replied, gritting out a smile. It nettled her sorely that he should seek to besmirch his cousin’s character when his own reputation was far from exemplary. Though he seemed entirely in good health, he had begged some dreadful fainting malady to avoid offering his services in defense of his country and then, barely a month after Lord Sedgwick had passed on, had borrowed funds against his anticipated marquessate in order to placate an outraged father whose previously innocent daughter he had gotten with child.
Latham seemed momentarily befuddled by her lack of imagination. “Well, never mind, my dear. My observations wouldn’t be fit for sweet, innocent ears like yours.” His eyes passed over her again, and as if encouraged by her failure to retreat, he took a step toward her. The huskiness of his voice seemed to convey a warming desire. “I say, Lady Adriana, you are truly the most ravishing creature I’ve ever seen, and you do yourself such good service by dressing to the occasion. Your gown at the wedding was especially charming, but, my dear, let me say you’ve clearly outdone yourself this evening. Never in all my life have I seen a more stunning gown or a maid more ravishingly beautiful.”
“You flatter me, Lord Latham,” she accused, boldly using his first name as he had hers. After all, as Colton’s cousin, he had visited Randwulf Manor fairly frequently as a lad when she had merely been a toddler clinging to her father’s trousers. The man was older than Colton by a trio of years, but as much as he made the pretense, Latham lacked the handsomely refined good looks and polished manners that his younger cousin possessed in abundance.
“You do have quite a following of admirers, my dear, so many I found my head spinning like a whipping top when I saw them gathered around you that day outside the church. Why, even that duke’s son . . . what’s his name . . . was among them.”
Adriana retreated as he advanced another step, preferring to yield him the floor rather than to risk contact. “I believe you’re referring to his lordship, Riordan Kendrick, the Marquess of Harcourt.”
“Quite a handsome fellow, Lord Riordan. Immensely wealthy, from what I understand, and of course, being the only son, he shall inherit the duchy one day, once his father expires, that is. Has he been courting you long?”
Suspicious of Latham’s reasons for addressing his attention to any matter, Adriana was somewhat hesitant about answering, yet could not fathom what harm stating the truth would do. “Lord Harcourt hasn’t really been courting me. He has merely been visiting Wakefield Manor.”
Latham chuckled and dabbed a lace handkerchief to a corner of his mouth, giving Adriana cause to wonder if he were drooling. “Well, my dear girl, it doesn’t take much imagination for a body to figure out why he would, what with such sublime perfection housed here. I’m somewhat surprised he hasn’t obtained a nuptial agreement from Lord Standish. He has tried, has he not?”
Adriana hoped her face didn’t appear as rigid as it felt. “Of late, my father has been extremely busy addressing other matters. Taking into account that I’m the last of his daughters, he’ll probably want to relax for a while before lending his attention to my future. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he doesn’t get around to pondering those matters for several months.” At least until Colton Wyndham makes up his mind!
“Of course! Of course!” Latham chortled. “Delightful news for tardy suitors, eh what?” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully and leaned forward in a confidential manner. His warm, husky whisper clearly conveyed his rising aspirations. “Such news, my dear lady, gives me occasion to hope that I’m not too late in presenting my petition.”
Adriana came near to rolling her eyes in disbelief, but she subdued the urge as Latham glanced first to his left and then to his right, as if searching the area for listening ears. She could only wonder what secret he was about to reveal.
Bestowing his attention upon her once again, he smiled cajolingly. “My lady, I do implore you to save a dance for me later on. I’d ask for one now, but barely a moment ago, I was forced to make my excuses to that Carvell fellow, Lord Mansford, who asked me quite boldly to dance with his daughter, a portly young miss who’s obviously in a dither to find a husband. Rather than be caught in a lie, I thought to hide out for the duration of the tune. ‘Twill be a wonder indeed if Lady Berenice finds a husband. She’s pretty enough, to be sure, but I fear her bulk would simply overpower me.” His eyes swept over Adriana and began to glow warmly with avid admiration. “I do so enjoy much daintier forms, which, without a doubt, yours takes precedence.”
Had Latham been a man to admire, Adriana would’ve encouraged him to seriously consider Berenice Carvell, in her opinion a very sweet young woman. Unfortunately, her sire seized upon every opportunity to find her a husband and, by so doing, not only embarrassed his daughter, but forced the bachelors he cornered into awkward positions.
Considering the rumors of indebtedness in which Latham had become mired, Adriana couldn’t resist taunting him. “Lady Berenice does indeed have a pretty face, my lord, and although a bit bulky as you say, I’m inclined to disagree with you about her chances of being wed, so much so that I’m willing to predict that she’ll be married to a fine, upstanding young gentleman ere long.”
Arching a brow with rampant skepticism, Latham peered down his long nose at her as he smirked with amused condescension. “Are you gullible enough to believe in miracles, my lady?”
Adriana’s hackles rose at his patronizing question, but she managed a musical laugh. “Well, considering Lady Berenice’s dowry would choke the wits of a sultan, I’m sure such miracles are well within the realm of possibility. A man may indeed marry Berenice for her dowry, but in time he’ll come to discover that he has gained for himself a jewel far more valuable than her father’s wealth. Of that I’m confident.”
Latham’s brows jutted sharply upward in amazement. “I never dreamt her sire was so affluent.”
Adriana could almost envision the greedy workings of the man’s mind as she cut her eyes askance at him. “Oh, indeed, and considering his eagerness to see her wed, I suffer little doubt that Lord Mansford will prove extremely generous to her bridegroom.”
Latham wandered off in something of a daze, leaving Adriana pondering the odds of seeing him dancing with Berenice ere the evening was out. She’d definitely have to warn her friend to be on her guard against the fortune seeker.
Heaving a forlorn sigh as she addressed herself once again to her own predicament, Adriana slipped into the ballroom and to
ok refuge within the shadows shrouding the entrance as she glanced around. Across the room, Jaclyn and her husband, Sir Thornton Godric, stood chatting with her parents, Philana, and Aunt Tilly. Melora and Harold still seemed totally entranced with each other as they waltzed together. Just beyond them, Perceval swept Samantha around the dance floor in wide, graceful rotations. Though married two years, the couple seemed as smitten with each other as the recently wedded pair. There was no question that Samantha greatly esteemed the choice her sire had made for her. To some degree their love for one another rallied Adriana’s prospects for herself. She just hoped Sedgwick Wyndham had been equally insightful matching her to his son.
With curiosity, Adriana scanned the faces of the dancing couples in search of the man who, of late, had become the focal point of her musings. If anyone had told her several months ago that she’d be fantasizing about Colton Wyndham at this juncture in her life, she’d have called him daft. But time had a way of putting one’s considerations to naught. Her infatuation with the man had deepened by significant degrees since his return. She could only wonder when he’d actually make his entrance. No doubt his appearance would be favorable. The man’s penchant for dapper attire left her wondering what exceptional formal apparel he’d be wearing this evening; but then, on his tall, broad-shouldered form, rags would seem like a king’s raiment.
Adriana nearly choked in surprise as she finally espied the tall, handsomely garbed Marquess of Randwulf. It was not so much the sight of him that took her aback, but the fact that he was waltzing Felicity Fairchild around the ballroom.
Cheeks burning with humiliation, Adriana pressed back against a French door, hoping the two hadn’t seen her. Her moment of obscurity allowed her to watch the retired colonel at some length. From all appearances, he had made remarkable progress in recovering a graceful stride. She could only imagine the grueling extent of his determination to exercise his limb in his quest to overcome his lingering lameness. She remembered the way his wound had looked the night of his return. The sight of it had caused her to consider the pain he had suffered, which had likely been intensified by its tainted condition. It came to her with a fair bit of surprise that at Melora’s wedding three weeks earlier he had been without his cane, and yet he had still been hampered by a limp. Now, however, his smooth strides seemed to bear out the successful degree of progress he had made, for his movements seemed as fluid as rippling water flowing over a submerged stone.
Adriana started suddenly when a distant cousin, calling to her from the dance floor, shattered her anonymity.
“Adriana, why aren’t you dancing?”
She groaned within herself, wanting to crawl into the nearest cubby. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Colton glance about, evidently in search of her. When he espied her, he swept Felicity around the ballroom in wide circles, bringing them within close proximity of where she stood.
The blackguard! How could he? Adriana fumed peevishly, still irked that he had all but wheedled a concession from her that had allowed him freedom to direct his manly consideration elsewhere during the ball. His choice of ladies just happened to be Felicity Fairchild, a woman who, since her introduction to the man, had been lauding his praises with bubbling enthusiasm to any and all who would listen.
The almost glowing radiance of the fair-haired beauty gowned in a pale, yellow satin caused Adriana to wonder somewhat morosely how he would rate the miller’s granddaughter in contrast to one whose eyes and hair were as dark as ebon. A sharp reminder of the insults he had once heaped upon the thin little girl who had adored him seemed to affirm the probability that she wouldn’t measure up very well at all.
“She definitely wants him,” Adriana muttered petulantly as she considered the blonde’s smiling delight.
“Who?” a voice intruded from nearby.
Surprised at having been caught thinking aloud, Adriana turned promptly about to find Roger standing behind her. Although words seemed momentarily lodged in her throat, they came free as she lashed out at him in vexation. “My goodness, Roger, you nearly startled me to death!”
He chuckled, laying the cause of her annoyance to his own tardiness. Heartened by what seemed an eagerness to see him, he readily apologized. “I’m sorry, my lady, but it seemed as if you were caught in a world of your own making. I really had no idea that I would alarm you.” He glanced around as several couples danced past, none of whom was even closely reminiscent of the pair Adriana had been eyeing. “Were you referring to anyone in particular?”
“A distant acquaintance, that is all.” Growing more distant by the hour! Adriana mentally jeered as she caught a glimpse of the very winsome Miss Felicity fluttering long lashes at her tall, handsome partner.
Well, there was no help for it, Adriana decided. As much as she had intended to inform Roger at the conclusion of the ball that she could no longer permit him to follow her about, she feared the closer the end came, the more she’d lose her nerve. Better to be done with it, she thought. Besides, the sooner she made her announcement to Roger, the sooner her rival would find herself without the attentions of his lordship . . . even if it turned out to be nothing more than a three-month interval.
No more delays, Adriana thought, and plunged headlong into the task she had set for herself. “Roger, I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you. Perhaps we should go into the hall where we can talk together privately.”
The young man raised a brow skeptically. “Grave importance? You mean more important than dancing with you?” He forced a laugh, though it proved a frail attempt at best. He could imagine what kind of statement she intended to make now that the marquess was home. Frankly, he didn’t want to hear it. In fact, his father’s suggestion was beginning to appeal to him as his only chance for claiming the lady for his own. “I think not, my lady, for to be sure, the idea of holding you in my arms has dwelt on my mind almost constantly these past weeks. ‘Twas rare indeed that you allowed me to touch your hand, much less take you in my arms. I don’t want to lose the opportunity to do so. I’ve missed you more in these past weeks than common words can adequately justify. Whenever I’d come to Wakefield Manor and ask to see you, I was informed by your butler that you were either out or indisposed. I was beginning to suspect that you were deliberately avoiding me.”
“I’m sorry, Roger, but I’ve been very busy with other things.” It was certainly no lie, merely an exaggeration. But then, after Colton’s return, the man should’ve realized circumstances would change. “Seriously, Roger, I have something important to discuss with you. . . .”
“Later.” Claiming her hand, he drew her toward the dance floor. “After we finish dancing.”
Adriana pulled back, trying to free herself, but he refused to let her go, and with a mental sigh of resignation, she conceded, not wishing to cause a stir. After tonight, she’d likely never see the man again. She could at least allow him a dance or two. “All right, Roger, but we do have to talk. Delaying it won’t make it go away.”
All around the hall, plumed and beribboned heads came together in a frantic rush as ladies of middling and advancing years craned their flabby, scrawny, or wrinkled necks in an effort to see the miller’s son leading Lord Gyles’s youngest daughter onto the dance floor. ‘Twas a rare occurrence indeed that a man of low estate was granted such a favor from a nobleman’s daughter, and the event sparked what could have easily been likened to a feeding frenzy among the busybodies who devoured every comment eagerly whispered behind fluttering fans. Laying bejeweled fingers aside their ears, they leaned forward to catch every juicy morsel, relishing each enticing tidbit as if they hadn’t sampled the like of such sweetmeat for months on end. Then they bustled excitedly about to spread the news further, bumping into each other in their haste, weaving in and out, dispersing and converging in their eagerness to carry the news hither and yon. Had any been observing from a high summit, they’d have probably likened the biddies to a mass of plump melons rolling helter-skelter down a steep ravine.
It didn’t take that one long to notice the excited pother erupting around the ballroom. Adriana had been expecting the gossipmongers to size her up now that she was the only unattached female left in the Sutton family. After all, when a man had three daughters and no sons, there was always a fair amount of speculation whether he’d be successful in making good matches for all of them or if any would be left without a husband. Adriana just hadn’t considered that she’d stir up such a commotion. Having reached the age of twenty and two years and with no apparent betrothal in the offing, she could well imagine they had already considered her destined for spinsterhood.
A fate worse than death, some would lament. In droning tones, others would offer questionable advice as to what could remedy her plight. At the very least, a few would be inclined to suggest that it was a far better fate to wed a miller’s son than marry not at all, as if she were that anxious to wed and had no other choice.
Looking back upon her couturier’s last visit prior to Melora’s departure, Adriana now wished she hadn’t yielded to their suggestion that a special gown be made for her so as to leave no doubt that she was being heralded as the last available daughter in the family. The dressmaker had seemed excited about designing something unique for one whom she had described as tall, slender, and elegant enough to wear a feed sack and make it look divine. Though Adriana had never considered herself as one lacking imagination, she hadn’t foreseen the couturier’s final version, delivered to her chamber door this very day, as being a garment that would exaggerate her every movement with a glittering array of dancing lights. Beneath the soft glow of the candles that lit scores of sconces and weighty chandeliers, the little crystals made it seem as if fireflies swarmed all around her. Still, remarks concerning its brilliance would probably seem mild compared to what some harpies would say about her décolletage. Although modest in comparison to the apparel of several young ladies, including the lovely Miss Fairchild, who showed more but had somewhat less to flaunt, it was definitely not what Adriana was accustomed to wearing even on formal occasions, for it revealed the upper curves of her rounded bosom rather generously. Truly, had she anticipated the possibility that she’d be at the mercy of malicious biddies, she’d have definitely chosen a less conspicuous gown to wear, perhaps something that would have disguised her altogether. Then everyone would’ve been wondering who she was rather than her possible fate as a spinster.