by Laura Landon
The guest list was never overly large for any function Lady Archbite hosted. Invitations were sent only to a select few. Which might be part of the reason the invitations were so coveted by all of Society.
Tonight was no different. Only the most elite of Society were here.
“Lord and Lady Hartley,” Lady Archbite said, greeting David and Lynette. “I’m so honored you could attend.”
“Thank you, Lady Archbite,” David said. “It was kind of you to extend the invitation.”
Allison saw a slight smile cross David’s face. She wondered what her brother would say if he knew how close Lord Archbite had come to stating his intentions this afternoon. He undoubtedly would be elated.
“Lord Hartley. Lady Hartley,” Percy greeted, nodding politely to David and bowing over Lynette’s hand.
The look on David’s face remained friendly when he greeted Percy.
A sudden thought raced through her mind. She couldn’t imagine the two of them as brothers-in-law. Once she married him—if she married him, Percy would be an odd mix in her otherwise handsome family. Allison pushed such a ridiculous thought from her mind.
“And Lady Allison,” the countess said, forcing Allison’s attention back to their hostess.
She curtsied. “Good evening, Lady Archbite. I am so looking forward to this evening. I hear you have commissioned the talented Mademoiselle Miranda Bochaut to sing selected arias from her favorite operas.”
“Do you enjoy the opera?” the countess asked.
“Yes. David tells me I’m hopelessly addicted.”
The countess smiled. “No one who enjoys the opera is ever hopeless. Perhaps there is something in particular you’d like to hear tonight. I could see if Mademoiselle Bochaut has it in her repertoire.”
“Oh, no.” Allison was embarrassed to be given such an honor. Her first thought was that the countess knew of her conversation with Percy this afternoon and was making every effort to smooth the way between them.
“I insist,” the countess added.
David’s expression changed. His eyes brightened with a glimmer of hopefulness, followed by a look she often saw when he was pleased. A flash of panic rose inside her.
Of course David would approve. Why shouldn’t he?
“I am honored, Lady Archbite. Perhaps something from Saint-Saen’s Samson and Delilah. It is new, and causing quit the stir. For the rest, I acquiesce to Mademoiselle Bochaut’s discretion.”
Lady Archbite nodded to a footman standing close by and he scooted off, presumably to relay the request to Mademoiselle Bochaut. Allison looked to Percy for some sort of answer, but found him gazing at her with undiluted adoration in his eyes.
He reached for her hand and held it to his lips far longer that usual. “Lady Allison. It would be my pleasure if you would allow me to escort you into the music room when it is time for the performance. I am sure you would enjoy seats closest to the front when Mademoiselle Bochaut sings your selection.”
“How considerate.” She smiled at Percy and was reminded of how attentive he was, how devoted. If she had to marry, weren’t those the qualities she looked for in the man she would take as her husband?
She curtsied again, then walked with David and Lynette through the spacious rooms where a growing crowd gathered.
David didn’t say anything as they wound their way through the guests but he seemed smugly content. She knew he hadn’t wanted to come tonight, but was doing so to aid her in her search for a husband. The pleased look on his face indicated he’d decided his effort was worth it.
They entered the large ballroom and Allison looked around. Huge potted plants dotted the room against the outside walls, giving it a warmth not usually found in ballrooms. A dozen glistening chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each glowing with hundreds of candles. And in the center of the room there was a trickling fountain that splashed gently into a round pool. Several lighted marble pathways angled from the pool like the spokes of a wheel.
An occasional palm tree or flowering bush made the pathways seem like a walk through a real garden.
Toward the back, a small chamber orchestra played music. In the front, long banquet tables angled in the corners, laden with foods and drink of every kind. She made her excuses to David and Lynette, then walked to one of the tables.
It was daunting to realize that some day this house could be hers. Her mouth turned dry as cotton and she reached for a glass of punch sitting at the end of the table.
“Allow me,” a low, darkly-rich voice said from behind her.
The breath left her body. She slowly turned to glare at the Marquess of Montfort. “What are you doing here?”
“I assume the same as you, my lady. Waiting to hear the beautiful Mademoiselle Miranda Bochaut sing.”
“You don’t even like music,” she said, then turned hot from head to toe when the marquess released a full, booming laugh.
“See how little you know me? Actually, I’m quite fond of music. Especially the opera. You could say I am a patron. Mademoiselle Bochaut and I have been friends for years.” He paused. “Close friends.”
She caught his meaning immediately and the rakish gleam in his eyes set her teeth on edge. “You are—“
He held up his hand to stop her. “I know. You’ve mentioned this before. I do wish you’d alter your opinion of me. Your low regard pains me.” He placed one hand over his heart.
“I doubt that’s possible.” She looked around the room, then glared at him like a soldier facing his enemy. “How did you get in?”
“I was invited.”
He handed her a glass of champagne then reached behind her and lifted another glass from the table. His shoulder brushed against her, the heat from his body nearly setting her on fire. A shiver raced through her.
“I assure you. I had an invitation. Being the heir apparent to a dukedom does have its privileges.”
She turned her back to him and focused on the other guests that conversed in small groups. She knew her action was blatantly rude, but didn’t care. She wished Montfort would take her hint and leave her alone.
He didn’t.
“Would you like to stroll through the gardens before the performance?” His voice was a husky whisper in her ear.
Her heart pounded in her breast and her stomach swirled as if someone had released a thousand butterflies inside her. She couldn’t look into his midnight blue eyes without getting lost. The affect he had on her emotions terrified her.
Allison pasted a sweet smile on her face and turned back to him. “Lord Archbite suggested the same thing. I prefer to wait for him.”
He arched a brow. “Then at least walk with me through the corridors. It will be much quieter.”
He didn’t give her a choice, but placed his arm beneath her elbow and escorted her toward the door. Before she could escape him, they were strolling down the long, narrow gallery where all the ancestral Archbite portraits hung.
Mirrored candles glimmered on either side of each portrait that cast the room in muted brightness. It also accentuated Montfort’s perfect features in a brilliant glow.
“They’re not a particularly handsome lot, are they?” He stopped in front of one of the ugliest men she’d ever seen.
“The merit of a man is not determined by his looks.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he answered, then turned again and walked further down the long aisle. “You aren’t seriously considering dear old Percy, are you, Allison?”
“What I am considering, seriously or not, is none of your concern. And I don’t recall giving you leave to call me by my Christian name.”
He stopped. “I assumed the kiss we shared the other night was all the permission I needed.”
“That was rude.” Allison’s cheeks burned like fire. She tried to pull her hand from Montfort’s arm but he clamped his hand over hers and held her tighter.
“There’s no need to take offense. It was just a kiss.”
Just a kiss!
She tried to avert
her gaze but he placed his finger beneath her chin and forced her to look into his face.
“A very enjoyable kiss, I might add.”
Then he smiled.
His teeth glowed bright against his bronzed flesh. The two creases on either side of his mouth deepened, causing his handsome face to become even more breathtaking. Her stomach flipped.
His noble features—high cheekbones, square-cut jaw, deep cleft in his chin—combined to give him a rugged look. She considered it a sin for anyone to be so handsome. A sin for her body to react like it did. No wonder he was so sure of himself. His looks had no doubt gotten him anything he ever wanted.
“I’m sorry I missed you this afternoon.”
She gave him a curious look.
“I took a turn through the Park, hoping to see you.”
“You were hoping to bother me.” She tried to keep from clenching her teeth. Even though she didn’t look at him, she could feel the warmth from his smile.
“I assure you, I only wanted to see you. But I had business to attend to that took longer than I thought.”
“I can imagine. You were no doubt in the middle of a game of cards that couldn’t be interrupted. Or more likely visiting one of your many female friends. Perhaps even the renowned Mademoiselle Bochaut. A ride through Hyde Park would hardly be worth the interruption.”
“You don’t have a good impression of me, do you? I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve it.”
“The rumors surrounding you don’t leave room for a good impression. Which brings me back to an earlier question. Why have you taken an interest in me?”
“Perhaps I find you fascinating.”
“Fascinating in what regard? Surely not as a friend. Definitely not as a mistress. Perhaps as a sparring partner.” She snapped her gaze to his face. “Are you looking for a wife? Is this your manner of courtship?”
“Bloody hell, no!”
She clutched her hand to her throat and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens.”
He laughed. “My grandfather was in his forties when he sired my father. I have no intention of producing an heir until I at least reach fifty.”
“Then why won’t you leave me alone?
“I told you before. I don’t want to see you make a mistake.”
“I don’t intend to make a mistake. The Earl of Archbite is an intelligent man who carries himself with a great deal of confidence and dignity. He happens to be one of the most sought after bachelors in Society.”
“Then let one of the other unsuspecting London debutantes win such a prize.”
“What a horrible thing to say.”
“I am only suggesting that you proceed with caution. You have waited this long to marry. Surely a few more months won’t make a difference.”
His words stung. Little did he know if the choice were hers, she would wait a lifetime to marry. As it was, she had less than two weeks.
He clasped his hands behind his back and pretended to study one of the portraits on the wall. “Does Hartley know how far things have progressed between the two of you?”
Blood pounded in her head. “David? What does David have to do with this?”
“I was just wondering—“
She needed him to leave. Needed to be away from him. “I have had enough of your interference, Lord Montfort. Now, please. Leave me alone—“
“Lady Allison?” Percy’s voice echoed from the other end of the long corridor. “Are you all right?”
Allison stepped toward Percy but Montfort’s arm snaked around her waist, making escape impossible.
“Of course the lady’s all right. She and I were just enjoying some time alone. You don’t mind, do you, Archbite?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Percy walked forward, then stopped when he reached them.
“That’s unfortunate,” Montfort said.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them and she suddenly feared what might happen.
“I’d like to go back now.”
Both men held out an arm for her to take. She looked from one arm to the other, then lifted her head and looked into their faces. A smile graced Montfort’s face, a look of undeterred confidence in his eyes.
Allison hesitated, then placed her hand on Lord Archbite’s arm and walked with him to the exit. Her knees shook and a heavy weight pressed against her chest.
As if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
+++
Joshua leaned his fists against the cement balustrade on Lady Archbite’s patio and let the cool evening air wash over him. He didn’t know why the hell it should matter who Lady Allison married. But it did.
He couldn’t imagine her with Archbite. Couldn’t imagine her being brow beaten by Archbite’s mother. And that’s what her life would be like until the day the dowager countess died, if Allison wanted there to be any sort of peaceful existence between her husband and herself.
And that would be the least of her problems.
Joshua raked his fingers through his hair and breathed in a deep breath.
“I see you needed a little fresh air and solitude, too, Montfort.”
Joshua turned around to see Allison’s brother, the Earl of Hartley walking toward him. “Yes. There’s something about a crowd of people that makes me yearn to escape to the country.”
“I know the feeling. I’ll be glad when my wife tires of the endless round of balls and parties and suggests we visit our country estate for a while.”
Hartley stood at Joshua’s left and focused his gaze on Lady Archbite’s perfectly manicured garden. “I still miss him, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Joshua answered, knowing who Hartley meant.
“Philip and I arrived at school the same year. We were friends from the start. Good friends. I couldn’t believe he was taken away from us so young. Has your father come to terms with his death yet?”
“No.”
“Give him time.”
Joshua sighed. “I’m afraid two lifetimes will not be enough for him to accept what happened that day. He will always need someone to blame.”
“Perhaps that is his grief talking.”
“Perhaps.”
“The accident wasn’t your fault, Montfort.”
Joshua tried to push the nightmare that still haunted him from his mind, but it refused to leave him alone. Instead, he remembered Philip pushing his horse too fast over rough and uneven ground, Philip attempting to jump the hedge that was too high for an inexperienced horse and rider, Philip’s horse refusing to make the jump, then...Philip’s broken body on the ground.
“In part, Father is right in blaming me. If I hadn’t dared Philip to race...”
“Then Philip might have tripped on the stairs and fallen to his death.”
Joshua’s breath caught.
“None of us have a say in when we will die, you know. You give yourself far too much credit if you think you could have prevented God’s will from happening.”
“It’s too bad Father doesn’t share your opinion. He constantly wishes our roles had been reversed.”
“That is your father’s loss. Perhaps he simply cannot see your good points.” Hartley shifted his weight. “Philip saw them, though. He thought very highly of you, you know.”
Joshua shot him a sideways glance with raised eyebrows.
Hartley laughed. “Yes, even though he knew about your fondness for drinking, gambling, and a willing female, he said that being irresponsible was your way of disguising your true character.”
Joshua smiled. “I always did have him fooled.”
“Philip was much too perceptive to be fooled. Even by you. We were both lucky to have known him.”
With that, the earl turned and walked toward the house.
“Hartley.”
Hartley stopped.
“This is none of my concern, and if I am overstepping my bounds, please ignore my next comments.”
“Yes?”
“During the past few we
eks I have had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with your sister.”
“And…”
“And I believe Lord Archbite has formed quite a fondness for her.”
“This concerns you?”
“I know his breeding is impeccable and he seems the perfect match for Lady Allison, but…”
“Go on, Montfort.”
“Lord Archbite keeps a house near Mayfair Park.”
“That is hardly scandalous. Many men, single and otherwise keep a mistress. If that’s what you’re implying.”
“Lord Archbite’s friend is an artist, a painter. His name is Rafael.”
Hartley stiffened. His hands fisted at his side. “You’re sure?”
“I encourage you to confirm this yourself.”
He ignored Hartley’s vile oath and turned to brace his hand atop the balustrade.
“Thank you, Montfort. I appreciate your candor.”
Joshua didn’t answer, but lifted his chin to let the cool breeze hit his face once again. At least Allison would be saved from that scandal.
+++
Allison sat in the lavish music room totally absorbed by the glorious sounds coming from the magnificent Mademoiselle Miranda Bochaut. Each note, each word, each melodic phrase was a benediction, a prayer to heaven. Her rich mezzo soprano voice filled the room with unhindered clarity and grace, her unequaled talent clearly a gift from above. Never before had Allison heard anything so beautiful.
Never before had she seen a woman more beautiful.
The singer couldn’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five, gracefully tall, with a figure as fragile as a china doll’s. Her hair was the color of spun gold, which she wore up loose on the top of her head. Shimmering tendrils cascaded down to her shoulders, framing a face so lovely it could have belonged to an angel. Her cheeks held a faint blush, her lips a deep rose, her eyes the clearest blue Allison had ever seen.
And every note she sang, every word from her mouth flowed as if inspired by some unseen spirit. But it was not the angels to whom she sang. It was to the darkly clothed, handsome man leaning casually against the outer wall at the back of the room. Her gaze rested on him, the depth of her adoration a tribute to him. Her exposed emotions a declaration of devotion that was intended for the Marquess of Montfort.
