Hamilton arched one of his eyebrows. Edmund ignored his disdainful look.
“I’d want my wife to think I have better taste in companions,” Edmund added dryly.
“Wife?” Hamilton said the word as if it were a deadly pit of snakes. “Please.” He snorted and shook his head, leaning back and sniffing scornfully. Clearly he believed Edmund’s call to Selina was in thank you, not to begin a courtship. Just as well.
“Don’t tell me,” Hamilton scoffed, “I have to deal with another Strathmore situation.”
Offering only a sly smirk, Edmund took the broadsheet Hamilton had let fall to the table. He scanned the headlines, still proclaiming news about the fire even days later.
“I am pleased no one was killed in such a large fire,” he said, eyeing the drawing. “It could’ve been so much worse.”
Edmund glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was a useless gesture; he knew exactly what time it was and how much longer he needed to wait until he could suitably call on Miss Selina Lyndell.
“As it stands, the owners of the property are willing to part with the deed for a rather reasonable price.” Hamilton’s dark gaze narrowed in on his. “Would you care to partner? It would be quite the investment.”
“I still don’t understand how you manage such lucrative business dealings yet are always inebriated.” Edmund paused and eyed him critically. “Or in a woman’s bed.”
Hamilton smirked. “It’s a talent.”
Laughing, Edmund stood. He planned to walk slowly to Miss Lyndell’s home. “The one thing I never fear, Hamilton, is going into business with you. I’ll have my steward sent round to deal with the contracts.”
He nodded to his friend, who didn’t look like he planned to move from that chair for the rest of the afternoon. “But now I must take my leave.”
“If you need my rooms here at the Club,” Hamilton offered, “just tell Jeffries to make sure they’re clear; they’re all yours,” he added with a wink.
Edmund didn’t bother to respond, except for the exaggerated roll of his eyes. At the front of the Club, he stopped and grabbed one of the quills. Taking out a calling card, he turned it over and wrote Edmund.
Slipping it back into his pocket, he made his way to Miss Lyndell’s townhouse at Westerly Square. Despite his intention not to rush, it was only a short walk from the club on one of the more fashionable streets in London. Edmund had made it his business to not only discover Miss Lyndell’s full name and residence, but to learn all he could about her family.
The London gossips had not failed him.
Daughter of Arthur Lyndell, thanks to her father’s successful import business, her family was new money. The Lyndell’s had purchased the townhouse on Westerly Square but a year past. Her mother had died some time ago and Miss Lyndell’s companion, Annabelle Barton, was a cousin and ward of the household.
Even as he turned onto Westerly, Edmund could hear the disapproving sighs of his friends and family, particularly his uncle, at the thought of courting such a girl. He didn’t even want to imagine what Hamilton would say.
Miss Lyndell wasn’t part of their confining society or from the proper lineage. Edmund didn’t care. He saw more than her lineage. He saw her humor and her bravery. In so short a time he believed he knew more about her than about any woman after a hundred balls and dances.
Number 9, Westerly Square.
Edmund made his way to the door of the very handsome townhouse and knocked. He waited for the butler to answer before very deliberately handing his card with the side that read Edmund upright.
“Please give this to Miss Lyndell.”
The butler gave him a look, one that clearly wondered if Edmund had stolen his clothing and was recently escaped from an asylum. But the butler sniffed, took the card, and disappeared down the hallway.
Edmund clasped his hands behind his back and grinned widely as he waited in the foyer. It didn’t take long before an older man walked toward him. He was tall with salt and pepper hair and more fit than a man his age should be, and moved with a confident stride toward Edmund.
“My lord, a pleasure.” Arthur Lyndell, Edmund presumed, bowed swiftly, gaze steady on his.
Edmund nodded and took in Lyndell’s appearance. His skin looked weathered as if he spent a lot of time around the docks or working on a ship. “Is this a good time?”
“Of course, of course,” Lyndell agreed. He grinned widely but there was a sharp, assessing look in his dark gaze. “I must say I am confused. Have we met before, Lord Granville?”
The butler must have turned his calling card over and handed it, right faced up, to Arthur Lyndell.
“No,” Edmund acknowledged. It might be proper, to speak with Selina’s father, but he’d rather spend his call speaking to the woman herself. “I took the liberty of tracking down the household were the young lady who saved my life resides.”
Lyndell blinked and Edmund had the feeling the other man had not expected that. A broad grin transformed his face from a craggy ex-sailor to a very pleased father. “Are you Edmund, then?”
“I see Miss Lyndell has told you of our encounter?” Edmund expected that.
Well, hoped. He hoped she had spoken of him. And thought of him. Hoped she wanted to see him as much as he did her.
Over the previous four days, he’d alternately regretted not telling her exactly who he was and was pleased he hadn’t. Edmund hadn’t want Selina to know he was an earl. He wanted her to remember the fun they had choosing Octavia’s hair combs. And he wanted her to remember him, not a title, even if it was as they ran from the fire.
“Yes, yes,” Lyndell said with wider smile.
Edmund supposed he couldn’t blame a father for such interest in an earl coming to call on his daughter.
“She has been concerned over your injuries and—”
“Father?”
Edmund immediately turned toward her, a smile already tugging his lips. Her voice urged him forward, and before he knew it Edmund stepped to her. He didn’t care they met only the once and it’d been in the bazaar. He also didn’t care his search for her could be considered mad.
He wanted to see her again. Simple as that.
Selina Lyndell stood at the top of the staircase. She wore a soft green day dress, her hair pulled back to accent the long smooth column of her neck, and she took his breath away. Her smile widened when she saw him, and even from this distance Edmund saw true pleasure shining in her eyes.
Her gaze was so expressive that, even after so brief a meeting, he knew what she thought. Knew it from the very first, when she walked up to that counter.
And he was never, ever going to confess any of that to Hamilton. Not the way his heart sped up at the sight of her. Or the way his blood warmed as she descended the steps. Selina was beautiful, yes, but Edmund only saw the way her gaze remained focused on him.
In so brief a time he also witnessed her true character — her bravery and fierce determination.
She moved sensually, but it wasn’t a practiced move; she was graceful and elegant and even in the formality of the Lyndell’s parlor, she exuded life.
“Selina.”
Edmund jerked back to himself at Arthur’s voice. Schooling his features, he tightened his hands into fists behind his back. Really, he knew better than to ogle a woman as she walked down the steps of her family’s home.
He was not a lad of sixteen.
Nor was he Hamilton.
Edmund had better control over himself. And he wanted to do this, all this, properly without a hint of scandal attached to her name. His visit today was not a trip merely to thank her; he wanted to court Selina Lyndell.
And it wasn’t out of gratitude. It wasn’t out of infatuation — well, perhaps a little. But because it had never taken Edmund long to measure a character. And Selina’s matched his so perfectly.
Arthur stepped to the side and gestured for her to join them. “You remember the gentlemen, yes?”
She glanced at her father
with an amused look but when she returned her gaze to him, that amusement was tempered. “Of course, Father.”
However, her vivid green eyes still held her laughter when she offered a slight curtsey.
“Good day, Edmund,” she said with a hint of amusement. “It’s such a surprise to see you here.”
“Lord Granville,” Lyndell said with an air that had no doubt earned him the respect of his employees. Strong and confident, but not pompous. “Please allow me to present my daughter, Miss Selina Lyndell.”
Edmund offered a slight bow, gaze locked with hers. He didn’t want to look away. “A true pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Miss Lyndell.”
“And you.” Her voice hitched slightly, eyes wide. “Lord Granville.” Her eyebrows quirked upwards as if silently asking why he hadn’t revealed his title before.
Why he only offered her his name.
But then her smile warmed further and Edmund knew it didn’t matter to her.
“I’ll leave you two to speak in the parlor.” Arthur waved toward the archway at their right, though Edmund barely glanced at the room. “I’ll have tea brought in,” he added as he turned and vanished down the hall.
Edmund didn’t watch him leave.
Selina glanced at her father’s retreating back for only a moment, then turned to face Edmund. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink and her lips, so recently smiling at him, twisted in embarrassment.
“Please pardon my father,” Selina said formally. Much more formally than any of their interactions had been thus far. “We are not accustomed to entertaining gentlemen of your station, my lord.”
She gestured to the parlor and started in that direction. He didn’t want her to call him my lord or Lord Granville. He wanted her to call him Edmund. He already missed the lilt in her voice when she did.
“There’s nothing to pardon,” Edmund disagreed smoothly. He wanted her at ease, the ease with which they’d spoken at the bazaar. “I’m rather grateful for the opportunity to speak with you.”
“Please.” Selina gestured to a settee and took her own seat on the far settee.
He didn’t look around the parlor, uncaring as to its décor. He didn’t care about the room or her family’s position. He’d called on her to speak with her, not to assess her worth.
He wanted to know the woman who’d captured him so thoroughly in a single day.
“I must admit,” Selina continued, fingers brushing down the skirt of her gown. “I’m surprised you took the trouble to find me.”
His eyebrow raised and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be. How could I not find the woman who rescued me from beneath burning rubble?”
“It was hardly burning.” But she laughed and her fingers stilled. Her full lips turned up in a smile married to a smirk and her eyes danced with humor once again. “And I’m certain you’d have managed to free yourself.”
Her smiled softened. “But I am happy to have been of some small assistance.”
He leaned forward just enough to convey his sincerity. Though this was entirely proper, especially for their first formal meeting, they sat entirely too far away for his liking.
“More than small.” Edmund grinned in return. “Thank you.”
“And thank you for preventing me from being hurt in the crush to leave the building. It was a frightening time.” Selina tilted her head in gratitude, and though her eyes were softer now, they still held that sparkle of wit.
“May I ask after your companion?” Edmund stopped as the maid brought in a tray. She quickly bobbed a curtsey and Selina calmly leaned forward to pour. “She is well, yes?”
“Yes.” Selina held up a cube of sugar and he nodded. She dropped it in and handed it across the table. “Miss Barton is just fine, thank you for asking. We made it home without further incident.”
“Good, good.” He sipped his tea out of obligation then set it on the table. “It seems our lives have returned to normal.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “For a short time, there was a question whether we’d have our lives.”
He waited while she sipped her tea, watching her every movement. Her fingers delicately held the saucer and he realized she studied him as he did her. He leaned back against the settee, tea completely forgotten.
“But we do,” he reassured her. Then, purposely lightening the tone he said, “And of course, that means social engagements and the theatre.”
“And birthdays,” Selina agreed, setting her teacup on the table as well. “Have you managed to find a suitable gift for your sister?”
“I found a pair of combs that were similar in nature to the ones you so graciously chose that day,” Edmund said.
“I am glad.” Her voice lightened with her laughter and her green eyes danced with it. “I know how distressed you were over the choice.”
“Miss Lyndell.” Edmund leaned forward, arms just resting on his legs. In a hushed tone, as if it was the greatest secret between them, he continued. “My sister will be over today as well to thank you for your efforts at the bazaar. She has it to invite you to her birthday ball.”
He paused as he watched surprise move over Selina’s face and grinned wider. “I do hope you will accept the invitation.”
“Oh.” Selina blinked quickly in surprise.
Her fingers brushed down her skirts again. He watched the nervous movement, the long fingers press into the tops of her thighs.
“That,” she started then paused and licked her lips. “That is a lovely gesture, Lord Granville, but unnecessary.”
He truly did not like her calling him Lord Granville. He almost regretted handing the butler his calling card with his full title.
Edmund sat up and forced his irritation away. He was courting her properly and though he wanted things to progress much faster than they were, he refused to have her think less of him because of his impatience.
He was not Hamilton and would not act in such a rakish manner. Not with Selina.
“I would very much like to see you there,” he admitted. And if his voice carried more of that passion than he’d wanted to let on, Edmund didn’t mind. Not when Selina’s gaze darkened so enticingly. “And of course you’ll have the opportunity to see the new combs.”
Selina smiled and her hands stilled in her lap. “I am more than flattered, but I am not the type that receives such lofty invitations, my lord.”
Edmund thought he hid his discomfort at her use of his title rather well. When Selina licked her lips again, he was less certain he hid his reaction to that movement. Dragging his eyes from her mouth, her full, pink lips, he met her gaze again.
“However,” she continued, “I am happy you have recovered sufficiently from your injury.”
“Miss Lyndell,” he said and deliberately kept his voice even. He was mostly successful with that, he thought and congratulated himself. “If you accept my invitation, you’ll be rescuing me once more just as you did the day of the fire.”
“I do not understand.” She tilted her head slightly to the right, but her fingers remained still in her lap.
“If you attend, I’d have someone of superior company to converse with.” Edmund grinned and watched her answering one spread over her lips. “You can’t leave me floundering in a corner like a wallflower, can you?”
Selina laughed, that bright joyous sound that moved warmly through him. He wanted to hear her laugh like that every day.
“You, my lord, are a very unlikely wallflower.” But her smile remained. “And I am certain you will survive the hazards of your sister’s birthday ball unscathed.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted and sighed dramatically. “But not pleased or engaged. And I’m certain my sister will notice so melancholy a brother.”
Selina licked her lips again and he sat forward “Do accept.”
His words were soft, the only way he could reach out to her. Edmund wanted to touch her, but remained on the opposite settee, the picture of, if not the soul of, propriety.
“Don’t
leave me trapped without you there to rescue me.”
Selina paused, but her cheeks held that faint tinge of pink again, and her eyes shone brightly. “Then it seems I have little choice but to accept.”
Chapter Four
“Octavia made it a point to have me on my best behavior.” Hamilton sniffed and glanced around the ballroom. “Since your little merchant girl is coming to this birthday ball.”
Edmund stared at Hamilton and tried not to give in to his annoyance. He held his tongue and, more importantly, did not hit Hamilton with his best pugilist punch.
Octavia’s birthday ball was a crush, though it was well before the season. Edmund didn’t care about the season or who was or wasn’t in town. He looked for the one woman who had yet to arrive.
Unfortunately, Hamilton hadn’t stopped talking about how inappropriate Selina was for a man of his station.
Edmund curled his hands into fists and tuned Hamilton out. It was moments like this he quite forgot why he was friends with the other man.
Edmund still remembered his reaction to Isabella Harrington and her tarnished reputation. He’d advised Strathmore to steer clear of any affiliation with the woman. Isabella hadn’t been suited to their station, so he believed.
All he felt for his past words now was regret. Regret he’d taken such a small-minded approach. And one he was unwilling to take for himself.
“What possessed you to invite her?” Hamilton demanded and, as if he knew Edmund ignored him, stepped round to face him. “You could leave the girl with the wrong impression. Gratitude is one thing,” Hamilton continued in an almost bored tone.
Jerking his gaze back to Hamilton, Edmund glared. Then he relaxed and gave a mischievous look that he knew would confound Hamilton. “I am not leaving her with the wrong impression,” he promised.
Hamilton grunted. Then narrowed his gaze appraisingly. “Are you in financial straits?” Hamilton demanded in a low voice. “I could be of assistance there. And then you won’t have to sell yourself for some shiny new coin.”
Edmund sighed. “I’ll have you know,” he said through gritted teeth, “my purse is very healthy. It has naught to do with her father’s money.”
Improper Match: Scandalous Encounters Page 3
