Capturing the Heart of a Cameron (Farthingale Series Novellas)

by Meara Platt

  She snapped her mouth shut and blushed. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

  “I hope so,” he muttered, arching a dark eyebrow.

  “It will be, I assure you,” Vi said, interceding before anyone could utter another word. She pinned Robbie with her sternest frown. “But we have a problem that only you can fix.”

  His eyebrow darted upward again. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble, Lady Brazelton? What mischief do you intend now?”

  “Of all the impertinence!” But Vi didn’t sound very put out. “This concerns protecting Frances.”

  At the mention of her name, Robbie turned his gaze on her and boldly continued to stare at her while Vi spoke. The heat of his gaze warmed her insides despite the outdoor chill that filled the Danforth entry hall through the doors that had been thrown open to allow the multitude of guests to enter. “I’ve been giving it quite a bit of thought and the only solution is that you claim Frances for the first dance.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “It’s the best way to show your respect for her and keep the codswallops from snubbing her… or worse. You know how angry the hospital trustees, not to mention every male in attendance, are about this dare. It’s your duty to protect her.”

  He was still staring at Frances, his gorgeous eyes unreadable as his gaze bore straight into her. “Do you agree, Frances?”

  She nodded. “Yes, assuming Charles gives his permission.”

  Robbie turned to his cousin. “Charles?”

  He was busy staring at Meredith. “It makes sense,” he said with a nod, seeming not very distressed. “I don’t wish to see Frances mistreated. I’ll escort Meredith. We can switch partners for the second dance.”

  Vi smacked her cane on the marble floor. “Done. Your Grace, give me your arm. Take me to Lady Waldstone. The old relic is seated all alone and will be glad for my company.”

  Robbie grinned. “She’s deaf as a post. And you love to talk. A perfect arrangement, Lady Brazelton.”

  “Impudent, that’s what you are!” But she chuckled along with Robbie. “Come along, Frances. Stay close. Lord Danforth is about to open the ball.” She made no mention of Meredith or Charles, who had disappeared from sight. Frances thought nothing of it. No doubt the pair were getting in line for the opening dance. She and Robbie would be last in the queue by the time they settled Vi and got to the dance floor, unless it was a waltz. In that case, all the couples would be partnered and ready to twirl in time to the music.

  Frances hoped it would be a waltz. She wanted to be in Robbie’s arms.

  To her dismay, it wasn’t.

  The festivities began with a country reel, one of those lively tunes that had couples switching from partner to partner so that she hardly saw Robbie for most of the set. He moved gracefully from female to female and seemed quite at ease with the ogles and stares and propositions he received. This was commonplace for him, to be swooned over wherever he went.

  Frances smiled to mask her disappointment, although she thought her heart would break when it turned out that the second dance was to be a waltz. He was to partner Meredith. But where was she? For that matter, where was Charles?

  “I don’t see them,” Robbie muttered, attempting to guide her through the crush of guests to a safer location where they would not be trampled.

  The room was packed with the cream of society, the ball obviously a success. Robbie, despite the advantage of his height, couldn’t find her parents either. He remained by her side, one hand on her elbow to keep her close while guests jostled past. “The second set is about to start,” he muttered, obviously not pleased to be stuck with her any longer than necessary.

  “Don’t you see Charles yet?”

  He frowned. “No, and I dare not leave you standing here alone. I have a suggestion.”

  She looked up at him. “Go on.”

  “I’ll claim this second dance from you as well. Charles and Meredith may be searching for us. If we spot them dancing, we can easily switch partners and correct the problem.”

  She didn’t care to be referred to as the problem, but nodded. “It’s a good plan. I have nothing better to propose.”

  Robbie seemed to ease at her response. He led them through the crowd and back onto the dance floor in time for the orchestra to strike the first strains of the waltz. He casually placed one hand on the small of her back and motioned for her to rest her hand upon his shoulder. He then took her other hand in his and held it lightly in his palm. They stood so close she caught the scent of sandalwood along his throat. A delicious heat radiated off his big body despite the crispness of the air sweeping in from the balcony through the open doors.

  He guided her smoothly across the floor, weaving seamlessly between the other couples. She closed her eyes and pretended they were alone in each other’s arms, the world shut out so that only she and Robbie existed.

  “Open your eyes, Frances,” he murmured, drawing her imperceptibly closer and bending his head toward hers to whisper in her ear, for there was no other way to be heard above the din.

  She did so reluctantly. “Robbie, this is enchanting. I’ve never danced the waltz in all my life, not once in the three seasons I’ve been out. I’m glad my first time is with you.”

  He frowned. “And not Charles?”

  Her stomach sank into her toes. What had she just admitted? “Well… er, I didn’t mean… he doesn’t think I’m a very good dancer… I step on his feet all the time.” Now stammering and distracted, she stepped on Robbie’s foot. “See. I’m so sorry. We needn’t continue if it’s too much of an ordeal for you. I’d completely understand.”

  “Frances, I don’t mind dancing with you.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t?”

  He cast her a grin that melted her heart. “I’m used to having you underfoot. In the way. Following me about.”

  “That will soon end. I won’t be plaguing you much longer now. You must be relieved.” She was already dying a little inside.

  “Assuming you don’t win the dare.”

  That was true. She’d be on the board for the next five years if she won. But would he allow it to happen? Even she felt that she’d lost the dare when he’d placed her in quarantine over her cholera scare. That he’d refused to see it that way was quite surprising. But Charles had seen her and knew she’d been unable to complete her duties. Would he speak up? “You know I haven’t won.”

  “I know of no such thing.” He drew her closer. “Still no sign of Charles or Meredith. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of this set.”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. “I’ll grit my teeth and bear it. In truth, you’re a wonderful dancer. Who will you dance with next?”

  “No one. I’m only here to dance with you.” His voice was husky and his gaze exquisitely tender.

  Frances stumbled again, not because she was clumsy on her feet, but because her heart had just taken a hit. If only he meant it in an I-love-you way. But no, he’d meant it in an I’m-only-here-to-protect-you way because Viola had shamed him into it.

  Robbie frowned when she tripped over her own two feet again. “Are you all right?”

  No. I love you. “Yes, of course. Just clumsy. Which is why I’ve remained unmarried after three London seasons.”

  He nodded. “Which just proves that all Englishmen are lackwits.”

  She began to nod along with him and suddenly her eyes opened wide and she stared up at him. “You just complimented me.”

  “Is that so surprising?” He sighed. “Frances, I may not like this dare, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like you. You have a few redeeming qualities.”

  “So do you, Robbie. More than a few. A lot actually.” She stumbled again, for her heart was aching and she could no longer bear to remain in his arms unless it would be forever. That wasn’t going to happen. The waltz was about to end and she didn’t know how to simply smile politely and allow him to escort her back to Viola. She wanted so badly to be in his hea
rt forever. “I need air.”

  They were beside the open doors leading onto the terrace and she took the opportunity to slip out of his arms and dart outside, but not before she collided with Lord Digby and Lord Pertwee, who must have just finished their vile smokes and were returning to the ballroom. “You,” Lord Digby said with a sneer, his hot breath reeking of spirits. “Watch where you’re going, girl.”

  She ignored him and continued down the steps.

  “Frances, stop!” Robbie was chasing after her. She didn’t want him to see her in this state. Why did he have to follow her out? And how did a woman hopelessly in love behave toward the only man who would ever claim her heart when he didn’t return the feeling? She continued down the steps and into the garden, hoping to lose him among the row of yews whose leaves were a silvery shimmer under the moon’s glow. “Frances!”

  She ignored him and kept running along the moonlit path. However, she wasn’t alone. A young couple was passionately kissing directly in front of her so that she had to skitter to a halt to avoid bumping into them. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I… I… Meredith? Charles?”

  “Bloody hell,” Robbie muttered, drawing up beside her.

  She heard the soft thud of more footsteps behind her and realized that several of the hospital trustees and several curious guests had followed them out. Lord Digby’s sneering laughter filled the air. “Charles, you old hound! Caught with the sister! That’s justice for you!” He turned to Frances. “Stupid girl, not even your betrothed wants you. What man would ever want a nuisance like you?”

  Robbie flattened him. One punch. Lord Digby landed in a crumple on the grass before her feet. Robbie then glowered at Lord Pertwee and the other onlookers. “Anyone else have a comment?”

  Charles and her sister looked as though they wanted to sink into the earth and never be found. “Fee, I’m so sorry,” Meredith said, her voice faltering as she struggled to hold back tears. “But you brought this on yourself. You practically threw me and Charles together. He’s wonderful. I love him.”

  Frances heard a collective gasp from behind her. Could her humiliation be more complete?

  She refused to look back, knowing that more guests had made their way into the garden to watch the spectacle unfold. She felt like a bear in a pit being baited and jeered by all who’d come to see the unsavory show.

  Charles stepped to Meredith’s side, his arm protectively around her sister’s shoulder as though worried that Frances might lunge at her own sister like a deranged harpy. Is that how little he thought of her? “And I love Meredith. I’m sorry, Frances. It’s Meredith I wish to marry.”

  Apparently so.

  More gasps. Then chuckles and gleeful whispers.

  Robbie stood by her side, staring at her all the while. “Keep your chin up, Frances. Don’t you dare let them see how badly you’ve been hurt. I’ll take you home. We’ll sort this mess out with Charles tomorrow.”

  She nodded numbly.

  More laughter from behind her.

  She felt Robbie’s arm slide over her shoulder as he guided her back toward the manor house, his touch gentle and protective. Why was he being so nice to her when she’d caused chaos within both their families? Would her parents ever forgive her?

  Instead of climbing the terrace steps leading to the ballroom, he steered her to the front of the house. “I’ll order my carriage brought around and then let Vi know what’s happened, assuming she hasn’t heard already. For a little thing, you certainly make a big impact.” He sighed. “I can drop both of you at Vi’s house. I’m sincerely sorry, Frances.”

  “You’re sorry?” She gazed at him in surprise. “Robbie, I ought to be apologizing to you. I’ve caused you nothing but trouble since this foolish dare began.”

  He kept his arm around her until they reached the front steps. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Lord Digby’s right. I deserved this.”

  Robbie let out a soft growl. “No, you didn’t. I never want to hear you talk like that again. You went after something you believed in passionately and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  She turned to face him, now utterly confused. It was one thing to be nice to her in front of everyone—quite valiant, actually—but to continue to support her when no one was around to hear them, now that was… what? “But even you thought I was attics-to-let.”

  He cast her an appealing grin. “I still do, but perhaps I am too. I’m often referred to as the reclusive duke, but that’s merely a polite term used because of my rank. I know my own failings. I’m surly. Demanding. Impatient. Obsessed.”

  She didn’t think it possible, but she was falling even more deeply in love with him. Every word he spoke and his every caring gesture made her more certain that no other man could ever claim her heart. “You’re obsessed with healing others. That is not a failing. You make the world a better place. That’s splendid. There isn’t a finer man in all of Edinburgh. Indeed, in all of Scotland.”

  He shook his head and chuckled lightly. “You may spout compliments to me to your heart’s content on the ride home. I won’t complain. Let me fetch Viola.”

  Within the quarter hour the three of them were in Robbie’s elegant carriage on their way back to Viola’s residence. “You knocked Digby out cold,” Viola intoned. “There’ll be the devil to pay for that, Robbie.”

  Frances, who had been sitting quietly while staring at her toes, glanced up and inhaled sharply as the impact of his actions finally struck her. By defending her, he’d damaged his standing with the board of trustees, not to mention made a lifelong enemy of Lord Digby. “Robbie, will they remove you as chairman of the hospital board?”

  “No,” he shot back.

  At the same time Viola cried, “Yes.”

  “And that will be my fault, too.” Frances buried her face in her hands, for she couldn’t bear to see him hurt. His only crime was in going along with a dare that he hadn’t wanted to accept in the first place. The drunken sots who had insisted that he carry it out were now going to punish him for acceding to their wishes and take away the one thing he cared about most.

  She felt his hands on hers as he drew them off her face and forced her gaze upward so that she had to face him. “You’re not to blame for whatever happens to me, Frances.”

  “How can you say that? You were doing just fine until I came along. I am most definitely to blame,” she said with stubborn determination. “But I can fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

  He scowled at her. “Don’t even consider walking away from the dare. We have only three more days until the Duke of Edinburgh’s ball. You can’t give up now.”

  “And what of you?” She ignored the bounce and clatter of the carriage as it sped along the bumpy road. “How is my winning going to help anything if you’re removed from the board? You’re the only trustee with the intelligence and foresight needed to make this project work. You’re important. I’m not.”

  His eyes were now a fiery gray, a dangerously smoldering gray. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  She meant to protest, but the carriage suddenly took a wild, careening bounce that sent her tumbling forward into Robbie’s arms. His arms clamped around her, his touch exquisitely protective. Her face flushed hot and red, and she forgot what else she was going to say. After gaping at him for an embarrassingly long moment, she stopped staring and scrambled away.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you all right? Let me have a look at your shoulder. I think you hit it against the wall when the carriage took that nasty bounce.”

  Deeper and deeper. She was falling more deeply in love with him. Three more days and she’d never see him again. How was she ever to get over him? “It’s fine, Robbie. You needn’t worry about me. And you needn’t protect me any longer. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you on the board.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “The hell you will. I’m picking you
up at seven in the morning. Be washed, dressed, and waiting by the front door for me or I’ll hunt you down, haul you over my shoulder, and carry you all the way to the clinic just like that. Understood?”

  “Robbie,” she asked gently, “why?”

  He growled as he leaned forward. “Because I’m a bloody duke and can do whatever I want.”

  Which begged the question entirely.

  Why was he doing everything possible to have her win the dare?

  CHAPTER 13

  FRANCES STEPPED OUT of Viola’s townhouse the following morning and squinted against the splendidly bright, early morning sunshine. She was eager to speak to Robbie, for he’d dropped her and Viola off last night and then gone home. None of them had been in any humor to talk about her humiliating set down and its consequences, but this morning was another matter.

  Robbie believed she was heartbroken.

  In truth, she’d never felt more relieved about anything in her life. Charles and Meredith were obviously a perfect fit, and she was delighted that two such wonderful people should find each other even if it was scandalously done.

  Charles had never given her more than a few polite kisses, those kisses much as one would bestow on an elderly aunt. Comfortable, uninspired, but she had accepted them with the same bland comfort and lack of passion. However, he’d kissed Meredith with a fiery desperation and her sister had returned his kiss with equal ardor.

  This is how love is meant to be.

  She could never begrudge the happiness her sister had found with a good and worthy man, even if that man was supposed to be hers.

  After all, fiery and desperate is how she felt about Robbie. It was time to confess her true feelings, but when Robbie’s carriage came around to pick her up, he wasn’t in it. “Miss Cameron,” his driver said with an apologetic nod, “His Grace was called to the hospital but will meet you at the clinic within the hour. He asks that you await ’im in his office until he arrives.”

  “Very well.” She climbed in and fretted the entire journey. Had the trustees summoned Robbie this early to ask for his resignation? It was possible, for they were quite angry. No, they were beyond angry. They were enraged. He’d flattened the pompous Lord Digby.