But he’d had no such brilliant notion until this second and now it was too late. He was alone as host and gentleman with six expectant young ladies and their eager chaperones to contend with. He glanced at the clock. It was almost six thirty. He took another sip of his drink, aware that he ought to go down and greet his guests as they gathered for dinner.
A knock at the door offered a welcome delay.
“Enter!”
Mrs. Essex glided into his study. She was, he’d noted a long time ago when she’d first begun in his employ, exceptionally pretty, although there was something about her – a flawlessness – he found strangely unappealing. Nevertheless, it had surprised him that his wife had hired her, but she’d been confident in his faithfulness and insisted they help the poor woman who’d recently lost her husband.
Now here they were, a widow and widower beneath the same roof. He had no doubt some of the other servants wondered if they’d become lovers. And Randolph was man enough to admit to having considered it on occasion, if only for a fleeting second. For although he knew most men would probably let themselves be tempted by the lovely Mrs. Essex, he wasn’t really attracted to her at all. Never had been. And even if he were, he was not the sort of man who’d ever proposition a servant, no matter how high ranking she might be.
“Since you’re the only gentleman here, I thought you might like to forego the after dinner drink in your study and take tea with the ladies instead,” Mrs. Essex said with a warm and inviting smile. “It will allow you to further your acquaintance with them in a less formal setting.”
“How thoughtful.” Randolph set his glass aside and met her gaze directly. “What is your opinion of them so far?”
“I really can’t say.”
“Can’t or don’t wish to?” He deliberately smiled in an effort to soften her up. “Come now, Mrs. Essex, I’d like to know what you think.”
Mrs. Essex appeared to consider. Randolph glanced at the clock. He really should get going. “None,” she eventually said.
“That’s not very helpful.”
“Perhaps not, but none of the ladies you have invited stand out.” She shrugged one shoulder. “They’re forgettable. Except for Lady Seraphina.”
“Oh?” As she was the daughter of a duke, he’d wondered about her unmarried state. Surely men would be lining up outside her door?
Mrs. Essex actually grinned. “You’ll see what I mean.”
“Is she hideous?”
“My lord! What a thing to suggest.”
“It is a reasonable assumption to make,” he muttered. And it might not be the worst thing in the world, having a wife who would not tempt other men to her bed. It was, after all, why he’d asked these particular women to join him in the first place. Because each and every one had been unable to snatch up a husband.
“You should head toward the parlor now unless you wish to be late to your own dinner party. And I,” she announced with a flourish, “must return to the kitchen to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
“Mrs. Essex,” he said, halting her in the middle of her departure. She glanced back with one raised eyebrow. “Thank you.”
Her lips curved with pleasure. Her pale blue eyes gleamed as they caught the light from the oil lamp. She added a nod, and then she was gone. Randolph blew out a breath, gave his sleeves a quick tug and checked his cravat. Satisfied with his appearance, he made his way through the long oak-paneled hallway that would take him to the parlor adjoining the dining room.
Once there, he did not have to wait long before the first young ladies arrived with their mothers. Randolph stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and offered a partial bow to each of them in turn. “Good evening.” He directed most of his attention to the two women he was meant to consider. “Viscount Sterling, at your service.”
Both ladies curtsied and then their mothers introduced them as Miss Matilda Stevens and Miss Anna Chesterfield. “A pleasure,” Randolph told them politely. He barely managed to ask them about their journey before Miss Clare St. James arrived. She was the shortest of the three and the least attractive. She also seemed to speak solely in nods and head shakes, so if he meant to marry a woman with whom he could carry on conversations, he probably shouldn’t consider her. Although, he reflected, there was a chance she was merely nervous, and it would be terribly ill-bred of him to judge her too quickly.
With this in mind, he deliberately said, “Tell me about your hobbies.”
Her lips parted, she seemed to stammer something, though he’d no clue what, and then she shook her head and retreated until the back of her legs connected with a chair. She sat with the most terrified expression he’d ever seen on anyone’s face.
Irritated, Randolph located her chaperone – a friend of her guardian’s – and bluntly asked, “Is something the matter with her?”
“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but she’s painfully shy. Allow her a couple of days to adjust, and I’m sure she’ll warm to you.”
She warm to him?
It took no small effort for him to keep a straight face and not blurt out an insult. Instead, he managed a nod and decided to give his attention back to Miss Chesterfield and Miss Stevens. Only as he turned, he spotted a lady who’d just stepped through the door. Her poise was perfect, if a little aloof, but her face was pleasing enough to the eye, and there was a natural elegance about her that would suit a viscountess very well.
Their eyes met. Randolph’s stomach tightened with anticipation. This could be his future wife. She raised her chin, drew back her shoulders, and smiled in a disconcertingly predatory way as she started toward him. Randolph tried not to be put off. After all, determination could be an admirable feature. But then she reached him and rather than say some polite words of greeting, she raised her right arm, stretching it out until her hand was almost level with his chin. And waited.
Randolph stared down at the back of her hand. Her motive could not have been more obvious if she’d been carrying a sign that read: You may have the pleasure of dropping a kiss right there.
One side of his lips curled upward with an almost dastardly sense of amusement. There had to be a little devil inside him, for rather than do as he ought and follow along with his guest’s expectations, he reached up, grabbed her fingers at a somewhat awkward angle, and shook them.
“You must be Lady Seraphina,” he said.
“I, um…” He could tell she was struggling to hide her outrage. “Yes.” She smiled tightly. Her chaperone, who’d appeared at her side roughly ten seconds earlier, stared at him in wonder. Clearly, no one had ever thwarted this spoiled woman’s will before.
Well, there was a first time for everything, Randolph decided. He dropped her hand unceremoniously and looked past her shoulder, immediately spotting the two last remaining young ladies whom he’d invited. Lady Angelica and Miss Harlow had apparently seen enough of what had transpired between him and Lady Seraphina, for their hands were clapped over their mouths as if to hold back an onslaught of laughter. Or perhaps to stop themselves from verbally assaulting him for his rudeness. It could be either, judging from their expressions.
He considered them. One blonde, one brunette, both slim and neither particularly pretty. At least not in the classical sense. He had no idea which was which. Perhaps it was time to find out? Ignoring Lady Seraphina’s sputtering attempt to maintain a proper demeanor, he ambled over to where Lady Angelica and Miss Harlow stood with their mothers directly behind them.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I am your host, Viscount Sterling.”
“Delighted,” one of the mothers said. “I am the dowager Lady Bloomfield and this is my daughter, Lady Angelica.”
Lady Angelica, who’d dropped her hand to reveal a wide mouth with much fuller lips than he would have expected, watched him with sparkling eyes. To his surprise, his heart leapt a little when she smiled. Perhaps because the expression was genuine, completely devoid of pretense, and entirely focused on him – like they were co-consp
irators with a shared secret. It was the oddest thing.
“A pleasure,” he murmured, while holding her gaze. She might not be able to compete with Mrs. Essex where looks were concerned, but there was something about her, something he liked so much better than what most would describe as perfect beauty.
“And I am Mrs. Harlow,” the other mother was saying. Randolph tore his gaze away from Lady Angelica so he could greet Miss Harlow as well.
“I trust your journeys to my corner of the world went well?” he inquired once the introductions had been completed and Lady Bloomfield and Mrs. Harlow had removed themselves to another part of the room.
“We did arrive unscathed,” Lady Angelica said. “As you can see.”
“Indeed.”
“In spite of the rain,” Miss Harlow added in a much softer voice than Lady Angelica used. Clearly, she was the more timid one of the two.
“Yes. I must confess that I did suggest we turn around more than once,” Lady Angelica said without looking the least bit repentant. “Carriage rides are dull enough on pleasant days, but with nothing to look at for hours on end they’re positively unbearable.”
“It’s one of the reasons I prefer travelling on horseback,” Randolph said, the comment popping out of his mouth completely unbidden.
“If only I were able to do so,” Lady Angelica said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, we ladies are only permitted to ride for sport. Mama would have a fit if I ever suggested going on a lengthy journey in such a way.”
“An excellent reason for you to marry, my lady, since the right husband would not choose to hinder you thus.” Where the devil were these words coming from? And when had he acquired such a flirtatious tone?
Lady Angelica tilted her head as if giving his comment serious consideration. “Do you think?” She glanced at Miss Harlow before returning her gaze to his. “In my experience, husbands tend to be more controlling than one’s parents, not less.”
“Then your experience must be limited to only intolerant men, for which I must extend apologies on behalf of my entire sex.”
“Am I to understand that you would allow your wife to travel by horseback from, let us say, here to London?” An intensity burned in Lady Angelica’s eyes, which he noted were not entirely brown but almost golden. She was testing him, he realized, judging his character and deciding whether she might consider him as a possible match.
Nothing thrilled him more.
“If it is her wish to do so and she has proven herself a capable horsewoman, then yes, I would, as long as she does not choose to ride alone.”
Lady Angelica’s mouth twitched slightly, as if deciding whether or not to smile. Randolph found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to give her opinion. Miss Harlow remained silent, which seemed to be her preferred state of being, so unless she showed a sudden interest in archaeology, his hobby of choice, he would have to dismiss her as a candidate.
But Lady Angelica…
“To do so would be remarkably foolish, my lord.” And then, before he could fully appreciate what she’d said – the fact that she’d chosen to agree with him on a subject that seemed immensely important for some strange reason – she said, “By the way, I must commend you for handling Lady Seraphina as well as you did. A more polite man would have followed protocol.”
“I—”
The supper bell rang and the doors to the dining room opened. Lady Angelica gave him a wry smile in parting as she went to find her mother, which was when Randolph noticed the ribbon trailing behind her. He shook his head in wonderment. Lady Angelica was unlike any woman he’d ever met before. She baffled him with her lack of finesse and the almost magnetic response he’d felt for her during their brief conversation. And what had she meant by her comment? That she considered him to be ill-mannered? It felt like she’d offered a compliment, but he rather feared she might not have.
Confused and oddly eager to spend more time in her company, Randolph entered the dining room with every hope that she’d been placed next to him. Instead, he found himself seated with Lady Seraphina and Miss St. James on either side and with Lady Angelica so far away at the opposite end of the table, she might as well have been sitting in China.
Randolph swallowed a groan and attempted a smile while he waited for all the ladies to be seated. Fleetingly, from behind a floral centerpiece, he caught Lady Angelica’s eye. Humor danced there – laughter at his expense – but rather than feel offended or angered, his chest expanded with a warmth he’d not felt in years. Not since those long ago days before the world he knew had been torn apart at the seams.
Dulled by the memories, he struggled to return to the mood he’d been in only one second earlier. It turned out to be an impossible undertaking with Lady Seraphina listing all her exceptional qualities and Miss St. James looking like she’d rather be dead than forced to endure the company of others. But at least there was wine. Randolph managed a toast as a more formal way of welcoming everyone to his home, during which he deliberately avoided looking at Lady Angelica. He wasn’t sure why, other than that it felt wrong to indulge in her sprightly charisma when his current frame of mind would only offer darkness in return.
Chapter 2
As the group assembled after dinner, Angelica wasn’t sure what to make of Lord Sterling. He was certainly handsome with raven black hair falling slightly over his brow. His eyes were sharp – piercing – a sure sign of intelligence, his jawline square without being too angular, and his mouth, with its curving lower lip, so perfectly sculpted she could not stop looking at it. Strange thing, that.
But as pleasing as his looks might be, they would not last forever, which meant she was far more interested in his character. She liked that he’d chosen to meet her remarks head on with a bit of light banter. It spoke well of his sense of humor, for if there was one thing she could not stand the thought of, it was having to spend the rest of her life tied to a man who did not laugh.
And he’d even exhibited a pleasing amount of progressiveness with regard to the freedom he was willing to give his wife. Angelica liked that about him too. For although she knew her own father had treated her mother well, her brothers-in-law often chose to exert their authority over her sisters, preventing them from doing as they pleased.
Still, she’d noted a change of mood in Lord Sterling when they’d sat down to eat. It was almost as if his luster had faded. Of course, it could simply be Lady Seraphina’s doing. While Angelica was too far away to hear what the woman was saying, she could see her lips constantly moving to the point where even the saintliest person would likely be tempted to strangle her.
Now in the parlor, a small part of Angelica’s heart hoped Lord Sterling might come to join her and Lucy. Instead, he chose to engage Miss Stevens in conversation at the opposite end of the room.
“He’s the host,” Lucy said as she reached for her teacup.
Angelica frowned. “I know.”
“Then you also know that he must bestow his attention on all his viable options in equal measure.”
It was difficult not to snort and sputter in response to such a comment. “You make it sound as though we’re hats on a shelf at a milliner’s shop and he’s deciding to buy one.”
Lucy sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. “I like that analogy. It fits.” Angelica sighed. She supposed her friend was right. “Not to worry. I’m sure he’ll pick you in the end.”
Angelica’s head whipped round faster than a weathervane in a storm. “What?”
“He likes you.”
“That’s hardly enough,” Angelica grumbled.
“It is when considering his selection,” Lucy countered. “We’re not any man’s dream, Angelica. Hence the reason we’re all still unwed. Although I don’t understand why you would be, outgoing as you are.”
“Outgoingness comes with a downside.” She pursed her lips, took a quick sip of her tea, then set it aside. “I am forever blurting out things I ought to keep to myself. It’s not the sort of qualit
y most men seek when looking for a wife.”
“In that case I have a feeling you may have found the first gentleman to be taken by such a trait.” Lucy smiled. “Lord Sterling clearly enjoyed your comments on riding and on Lady Seraphina.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean he’ll pick me.”
Lucy snorted. “Now you’re either fishing for compliments or lying to yourself”
“Well, what about you?” Angelica asked. “He could choose you if you give him a chance to get to know you better.”
“Perhaps,” Lucy conceded.
“After all, there’s little point in joining a competition unless you plan on doing your best to win it.”
“I suppose that… Oh, here he comes.”
Angelica forced herself to hide her excitement and not turn toward him too quickly. Her pulse had quickened, most likely due to the thrill of the game being played, for it couldn’t possibly be on account of the man himself. Could it?
Of course not, she told herself. They’d barely met.
“I hope you’ll pardon my intrusion,” Lord Sterling said once he’d come to a halt in front of the sofa where Angelica and Lucy sat. “But I was rather hoping you might take a turn of the room with me, Lady Angelica.”
“Oh…um…” And now she was stuttering like a fool. “I cannot possibly leave Miss Harlow alone.”
“Of course you can,” Lucy said. “I’ve no aversion to solitude. And if I should change my mind, I can always remove myself to another part of the room where conversation is more forthcoming.”
“How sporting of you,” Lord Sterling said with an obvious hint of admiration.
Angelica silently cheered on behalf of Lucy’s perfectly delivered comment. “If you’re sure…” She waited for Lucy to give a definitive nod before rising and placing her hand in the crook of Lord Sterling’s arm. As they started forward, she mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her friend, who merely grinned and waved her off.
The Secrets of Colchester Hall: A Gothic Regency Romance Page 2
