Waiting for an Earl Like You

by Alexandra Hawkins

  “You have failed to mention the reason for this lie.”

  Thorn picked up his watch fob as he silently debated on how much he should tell his twin. He was not as secure in his brother’s loyalties as he once had been. “I called on Miss Lydall this afternoon. She was not alone. Mother and Fiona were there, and she had brought reinforcements by including the Duchess of Blackbern and Lady Fairlamb. Lady Arabella was also present.”

  He attached his watch fob and absently touched his hair when he bowed down to inspect his face in the small dressing table mirror.

  “You never mentioned that you were planning to visit Olivia,” Gideon said, following Thorn as he left the bedchamber. “I could have joined you if you had thought to ask me.”

  “It wasn’t possible,” Thorn said evasively. “Would you like to join me this evening or do you have plans?”

  “I am meeting a friend.”

  His brother did not expand on who he was meeting or where he was planning to spend the evening. Nor was he required to, but he thought—no, he had hoped—that Gideon would join him and his friends this evening.

  “Very well,” he said lightly. They were not parting in anger, so there was no reason why he should push his luck. He reached the bottom of the staircase, his brother not far behind. “I will bid you a good evening then.”

  Gideon seized him by the arm. “What are you not telling me?”

  Thorn accepted his hat from the butler.

  He sighed. “I thought we were not going to fight?”

  His brother’s dark green gaze narrowed. “Did you call on Olivia as me?”

  “No,” Thorn replied, relieved he could answer his twin honestly. “I swear, it was Lord Kempthorn who called on her.” He took a moment to place his hat on his head and adjusted it until he was satisfied.

  “I do not understand.”

  Thorn glanced up. With his hat still in his hands, Gideon was staring at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Why would you need to lie to Mother about my business dealings?”

  Thorn grimaced. “I had to give the marchioness an excuse on why I was calling on Miss Lydall. I lied and told her that I was there on your behalf.”

  “My behalf? Why would you do that…” Gideon’s voice fading into silence as he contemplated the reasons for his twin’s strange actions. His mouth thinned and his head tilted to the side. “This is related to your midnight visit to Lord Dewick’s library the other evening. When I suggested that I pay Olivia a visit, you told me that she would not be at home. Why would you do that, I wonder? Could it be that I had already called on her? Is that why you lied to me and approached Olivia as yourself?”

  “It is less nefarious than it sounds in the retelling,” Thorn said.

  Gideon stroked the edge of his hat. “What exactly happened in the library?”

  Thorn placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor, nothing untoward occurred in the library.”

  Gideon looked down at the hat in his hands. “Your sense of honor has lost its rigidity during my absence. Or perhaps, you are more skilled at parsing your words to avoid the truth. Should I approach Olivia and ask her if I owe her an apology?”

  His lies had turned as brittle as burned bones, and he was clutching mere ashes. “There might have been a kiss.”

  “Thorn!” Gideon groaned.

  “I was still feeling the effects of the wine I had imbibed earlier in the evening,” he said in his defense. “It was a kiss under the stars. It was harmless.”

  His brother stared at him in disbelief. “She believes I kissed her.”

  “Well, I could not kiss her,” Thorn countered. “She would have slapped Lord Kempthorn. She actually likes you so she is more forgiving when you misbehave.”

  Gideon rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “I cannot believe you kissed Olivia. What made you to do such a thing?”

  “I would gladly blame the wine, but truthfully I do not know what possessed me.” It had been the worst course he could have taken, since Thorn wanted to discourage her from viewing Gideon as a potential suitor.

  “When I kiss a lady, I want to be the one who does it. Not you.”

  Thorn nodded, accepting that he deserved his twin’s anger. “Quite understandable.” He refused, though, to promise that it would not happen again. The brief kiss in her front hall proved he could not keep his hands off her when she provoked him.

  “We should tell her the truth.”

  “It serves no purpose in revealing our deception,” Thorn said.

  Gideon’s nostrils flared and his gaze hardened. “Yours, brother. Not mine.”

  “Aye, but what of the lady’s tender feelings?” he asked, pressing the advantage when his brother scowled. “The kiss meant nothing to either one of us. A brief romantic trifling under the night sky. Besides, there was an altruistic reason for my deception.”

  His brother snorted. “You amaze me, Thorn. Not only do you parse your lies, you season them to make them more palatable.”

  “Your suspicions wound me, brother,” Thorn said. “I did not intend to deceive Miss Lydall. She mistook me for you, and I saw no reason to correct her when I decided that she could benefit from my advice.”

  “Your advice,” was his twin’s dry retort.

  “You should have seen the dress she wore. The silly chit dresses like a matron and has no head for the current fashions.”

  “And you do?”

  “My opinion is an improvement,” Thorn said, refusing to allow his brother to goad him into losing his temper. “Lord Dewick plans to marry Lady Grisdale, and it was obvious to both of us that the countess will encourage the first gentleman who shows any interest in the young lady. I thought we could improve her odds of making a good match by giving her the polish she sorely needs.”

  “We?”

  Thorn shrugged. “Well, mostly me. I never realized how stubborn Miss Olivia has become. She was such a biddable child. When we were residing at Malster Park, I deduced that she tends to heed your advice over mine, so there are times it is convenient to be you. “

  Gideon’s eyebrows climbed to meet his hairline. “This has occurred more than once?”

  The storm had passed. His brother might be unhappy about the deception, but he would not interfere. “Once, twice—does the amount really matter?”

  “It might if you begin courting the lady.”

  Thorn froze, his mind stumbling over the absurd suggestion. “I am not courting Miss Lydall,” he said firmly. “Though, if others believe you and I have an interest in the lady, it could be advantageous for her. Most gentlemen covet what others desire.”

  Gideon’s concerned expression became thoughtful. “For your plan to work, I would refrain from telling anyone in the family. The family adores Olivia. Their approval of the potential match between you and her will encourage gossip. Matrons all over Town will send Lord Dewick and his daughter invitations so they can inspect the lady who has captured your high esteem.”

  It was Thorn’s turn to frown. “That was not my original plan. I think—”

  Gideon clapped him on the back. “Why bother when you have me to improve on it? And one more thing—the next time you decide to kiss Olivia under the midnight sky, do it as Lord Kempthorn.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olivia entered the Countess of Purles’ ballroom, her eager gaze taking in its opulence from the painted mural of Helios crowned with the aureole of the sun driving his chariot pulled by four winged steeds across the sky to the land of the Hesperides. Huge chandeliers of gold blazed like tiny suns. The polished floors gleamed and reflected the candlelight, and the white marble columns along the walls were lined up like warriors reaching for the heavens.

  “I am so happy you joined my mother and me this evening,” Lady Arabella said, clasping her hand as they strolled into the ballroom.

  “After Lord Kempthorn drove me home, I took a walk in the garden and contemplated my reasons for politely declining your invitation. With my fathe
r still out of Town, it seemed sensible to wait for him to arrive.”

  “A prudent decision,” the young woman said. “I likely would have come to the same conclusion.”

  “Thank you,” Olivia said, feeling a frisson of nervousness. “Then I recalled Lady Felstead’s lament that I was too young to be sitting at home like a spinster aunt, and then there was your brother.”

  Lady Arabella’s lips parted in wonder. “You spoke to Oliver? When?”

  “Briefly at the tea shop this afternoon,” she confided. “He seemed pleased to encounter me. To be truthful, I was amazed he recalled our conversations last spring.”

  “What nonsense!” Lady Arabella teased. “The moment I introduced you, I could tell that he liked you. My brother rarely speaks more than once to a lady who bores him. Nor would he ask such a creature to partner him in a dance on several occasions.”

  “Oh, do not weave romantic tales about me and Lord Marcroft, dear friend,” Olivia cautioned. “He was being polite, but seeing him again reminded me that I have already missed so many outings. My father has no patience for balls and would have placed me in the care of Lady Felstead or another respectable lady he trusted, so there is no reason to deny myself an evening out. I am perfectly safe in the company of you and your mother, Lady Norgrave.”

  “Marcroft cannot be trusted.”

  Thorn’s words whispered in her mind, but she dismissed his warning. Olivia had done nothing wrong in politely acknowledging Lord Marcroft at the tea shop. It was not as if she had arrived at the ball with Lord Marcroft at her side. Nor had she given the gentleman any encouragement earlier. Lady Arabella’s genuine surprise when Olivia had mentioned that she had encountered the earl was proof that her friend was unaware of her brother’s plans for the evening. Even if he strolled into Lady Purles’ ballroom, it was not due to any scheming on her part.

  Olivia had not accepted Lady Arabella’s invitation in hopes of meeting Lord Marcroft again. It was Lord Kempthorn who had driven her out of her house for the evening. How dare he tell her who she should call her friend, bully her, and then kiss her senseless when she disagreed with him.

  After her stroll through the hedge maze, she had stared at the iron gate separating the two properties. What if the earl had decided to continue their quarrel? What if Gideon visited her again at midnight?

  What if he kisses me again?

  Lord Marcroft was not her problem. The Netherwood brothers were.

  She had returned to the house and immediately wrote a brief note to Lady Arabella to accept her invitation to Lady Purles’ ball.

  “You will not regret your decision,” Lady Arabella said, raising her hand in greeting to a few ladies she recognized. “And who knows, my brother may be in attendance this evening as well.”

  Olivia halted. “You did not contact him on my behalf.”

  Espying her friend’s concern, Lady Arabella shook her head. “I received your note so late, there was no time to tell him. After my sister married Lord Fairlamb, Oliver decided not to reside with the family when we stay in Town.”

  Olivia wasn’t privy to all of the details, but she had heard about Lord Fairlamb and Lady Tempest’s elopement last Season. The news had been discussed in every ballroom throughout London. From the gossips and the tidbits of information she had gleaned over the years visiting Lord and Lady Felstead, she had learned of the discord between the Norgraves—Lady Arabella’s family—and the Duke and Duchess of Blackbern—Lord Fairlamb’s family.

  Family secrets.

  Every family had them. The Netherwoods were cousins to the Blackberns, which explained why Thorn was distrustful of Lord Marcroft. She assumed the dislike was mutual. Still, his cousin had married Lord Norgrave’s eldest daughter, and Lady Arabella had been welcome at Malster Park. Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackbern, had tolerated the presence of Norgrave’s daughters, so perhaps the animosity between the two families had been exaggerated by the ton.

  Olivia could only speculate. It was not her place to dig into the past since she was not related to either family. What mattered was Lady Arabella’s friendship, and the quiet acceptance she had been granted by several members of the lady’s family.

  “You must miss him,” Olivia said, sliding her fingers free from her friend’s so she could open her fan. “As I have told you, I have two older brothers. I have not seen them in years, but occasionally they send my father letters.”

  That was the way of brothers. Younger sisters were easily forgotten.

  “I do,” Lady Arabella said, her beautiful face growing wistful. “Oliver was closer to Tempest when we were growing up, but he has tried to visit more now that my sister has married.”

  “How lucky you are!” Olivia said, meaning every word. She quietly envied the strong bonds she saw between brothers and sisters. She had been denied such a relationship with her older brothers, but they were war heroes. She could not be bitter that her brothers had restless spirits.

  Olivia was so distracted by her own thoughts, she missed her companion’s shuttered look. “So my father often reminds me.”

  “Arabella, there you are,” Charlotte Brant, Marchioness of Norgrave, said, joining them.

  It was obvious her friend favored her mother in appearance. In her mid-forties, the marchioness shared the same hazel eyes as her daughters, although her gaze lacked their warmth and clarity. Her fuller figure was attired in a dress the color of red wine with garnets and diamonds dangling from her earlobes and around her neck.

  The marchioness acknowledged Olivia with a polite albeit vague smile. “I am pleased you were able to join us, after all. Arabella, did you introduce Miss Lydall to the countess?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Excellent. Good manners should not be neglected, even when the countess is a very good friend,” Lady Norgrave said, her gaze already drifting to another group. “Ah, there is Lady Henwood. I must have a private word with her, and then I shall be in the card room. Do you ladies wish to join us?”

  “Perhaps later, Mama,” Lady Arabella said demurely, earning her friend’s gratitude.

  Olivia had little patience for cards.

  Lady Norgrave hesitated and seemed to reconsider her decision to leave the two young ladies. “Very well. I trust both of you will conduct yourself in a respectful manner during my absence.”

  “Yes, Lady Norgrave,” Olivia said, curtsying.

  Lady Arabella inclined her head. “Of course, Mama.”

  The marchioness dismissed them with nod and walked away to join Lady Henwood and her friends.

  “Has your mother been drinking?” Olivia whispered, when she was certain Lady Norgrave could not overhear her.

  “Most likely,” Lady Arabella said lightly. “Shall we continue our stroll? My sister and her husband will be attending, but I do not expect them to arrive until later. To amuse ourselves, if you like, we can play a game.”

  “What sort of game?”

  The young woman wrinkled her nose as she thought about it. “We could deduce how many guests are titled.”

  Olivia surveyed the ballroom with dismay. “I will wager that covers most of Lady Purles’ guests.”

  “Giving up already, Miss Lydall?” her friend taunted. “Whoever finds a duke or a prince will be declared the winner.”

  Olivia arched her brow. “Would this game be considered respectful by your mother?”

  Lady Arabella laughed. “Absolutely not.”

  Several gentlemen glanced in their direction, which often happened.

  Lady Arabella Brant was a first-water diamond, whereas Olivia barely qualified as third water. Or perhaps she could liken herself to a pretty pebble found at the edge of a pond—a lovely, colorful stone with a few rough edges, but not particularly valuable.

  Not that their differences seemed to matter to her friend.

  “Come along,” Olivia said, grasping the other woman’s hand. “I see a gentleman with false calves.”

  “Where?”

  Olivia stepp
ed in front of Lady Arabella to block her view. “No, do not stare. We do not wish to chase away our quarry. If he is not titled, I will eat a farthing and my right shoe.”

  Her companion’s hazel gaze shimmered with excitement. “Lead the way, Miss Lydall. Perhaps we can deduce what other false items the gentleman is wearing.”

  * * *

  Thorn stood near one of the double doors that led to the garden. The overcrowded ballroom was filled to capacity and hindered his view as he searched for Chance and his wife. After he and Gideon had parted ways, Thorn had intended to meet Rainbault and St. Lyons at a particularly boisterous gaming hell on King Street called the High ’n’ Low that was owned by Mr. Scheets. It was a greasy little room where a young rake could literally lose his shirt if he had already lost everything else.

  When Thorn had arrived at Rainbault’s town house, he found St. Lyon sitting in the drawing room flirting with three women His Grace had been entertaining that day. The duke’s stamina in and out of the bedchamber was legendary, and his residence received a steady flow of visitors each day. Thorn doubted anyone was ever turned away.

  It had been St. Lyon who had told him that their plans had changed. Rainbault was still feeling guilty about the debacle at the Acropolis, so he had accepted Chance’s invitation to join him as he escorted his wife to several balls. Later, the four of them would head to the gaming hell.

  “Leave it to you to find the one place in this stifling odorous box where you can actually feel the air stir,” St. Lyon said, standing beside Thorn.

  “Did you lose Rainbault?”

  The viscount was attired in a dark blue evening coat with gilt buttons, a pale-blue-and-gold-striped waistcoat, and ivory silk breeches. The ladies of the ton adored him, and that had caused a certain amount of distrust with certain married gentlemen. It was St. Lyons’s handsome face and charm that had opened their hostess’s door even though none of them had an invitation.

  “His Grace is holding court upstairs,” his friend announced. “We have orders to collect him when we are ready to depart. Where is Chance and Lady Fairlamb?