Chapter 1
Cora, wishing herself tucked away in her bedroom with her novel and well away from her mother’s fete, saw purple silk skirts before her downcast eyes, and she curtsied automatically.
Her white-gloved hand was taken in between two plump ones, and she heard a familiar voice speak near her ear.
“Cora, my dear. I know how you dread these things, but you must leave off staring at the floor.”
A smile widened Cora’s face, and she looked up to see her godmother, Lady Carswell, favoring her with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
“Aunt Mimi,” she laughed. “Do not tease me. I am so very pleased to see you here.” Cora leaned in to kiss her godmother on the cheek, whispering as she did so. “You are the only person who makes these crowded and boisterous affairs tolerable.”
“Oh, my poor dear. Happily though, tonight I am presenting my nephew, Tobias, to the local gentry,” she said. “He has come to stay with me for a while, and I thought, who better to introduce him to than the girl I love as well as I do him?”
Cora’s eyes flew to the tall, slender, chestnut-haired gentleman standing next to her godmother. She had assumed he was with another party at present greeting her mother and father. Presenting a handsome figure in a dark-gray cutaway coat, pale-silver waistcoat and black trousers, Tobias was truly every bit as handsome as Aunt Mimi had described. Not that Cora cared for such things.
“Tobias, may I introduce my goddaughter, Cora Prentice? Introductions seem hardly necessary though, as you both must know a great deal about one another already. I have certainly regaled each of you with accounts of the other. But isn’t that what one does when they have favorite relatives?” Her godmother chuckled. “Cora, this is Tobias, the Earl of Momford.”
Cora curtsied and looked up into a pair of teal-blue eyes that held little warmth. Lord Momford gave her a cursory nod.
“A pleasure,” he said as if the word had been dragged from his lips.
Cora had known she would meet Tobias someday, an inevitability given his close relationship with his aunt, her godmother. Aunt Mimi had always spoken of him with high regard and affection. Given her godmother’s description of a quiet, unassuming yet thoughtful man, Cora had looked forward to meeting him as she did few other people, and she had come to think of him as Tobias, a favorite, if only, cousin, whose letters Aunt Mimi had shared over the years.
But the gentleman who stood before her shared none of the amiable qualities that Cora had imagined from Aunt Mimi’s descriptions. In fact, Lord Momford was the antithesis of any gentleman she might ever consider as a friend. His demeanor was cold rather than unassuming, aloof rather than shy and brusquely disinterested rather than thoughtful. Gone were her notions of a congenial Tobias, and in their place, an implacable stranger named Lord Momford, for that was the only term by which she could now address the stranger before her.
Aware that Aunt Mimi watched them both, Cora tore her eyes from Lord Momford’s withdrawn gaze and looked at her godmother.
“Come now, you two,” Aunt Mimi remonstrated. “You should get along famously. Do not allow your shyness to deter you from forming a friendship.”
“No, of course not,” Cora said quickly.
“If friendship is all that you are about, Aunt Mimi, then certainly not,” Lord Momford said with a sardonic quirk of one dark eyebrow.
Cora gasped at his rudeness, but her godmother chuckled and playfully tapped Lord Momford on the chest with her fan.
“Tobias, my dear, you will give Cora an unfavorable impression of you, though I have long sung your praises. She has looked forward to meeting you these many years.”
Cora lifted her head and met Lord Momford’s gaze directly with narrowed eyes. Humiliated, she gave a slight shake of her head to dispute her godmother’s words and then leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“Do enjoy yourself, Aunt Mimi,” Cora said. She turned away to greet the next group of arrivals.
Her mother, tall, slender and elegant in emerald-green silk—everything that Cora was not—leaned over to whisper.
“So that is the famous nephew, Tobias Momford,” she said. “Your godmother has spoken of him for years, but I began to think he did not really exist. England is a small country. Should we not have met him before?”
“I believe he was often ill as a child, Mother, and once he recovered, his shyness prevented him from playing with other children or going away to school. I understand he despises social functions.” Oddly desirous that her mother not think ill of Lord Momford, Cora ignored the rejection she felt at his behavior and related only what Aunt Mimi had told her.
Her mother lifted a skeptical eyebrow but was forced to turn away to greet guests. Cora’s stepfather, Lord Benjamin Hayes, beamed down upon his wife from an even greater superior height.
Fatherless at the age of five, Cora did not remember her father, John Prentice. When her mother married Lord Hayes, Cora had been almost as excited as the bride. Her stepfather was a kind man, but he had eyes and ears only for his wife.
Aunt Mimi was, in reality, her father’s aunt by marriage, a relationship too intricate for Cora to understand. But he had insisted upon his dear aunt Mimi as his only daughter’s godmother, and in his absence, Cora had grown close to the older woman, who had a large, comfortable estate not too far distant in the Hertfordshire countryside.
Aunt Mimi had explained that Lord Momford was also not related by blood, but she had been close to his parents, both now deceased from influenza. Happily, she said, Tobias had been visiting her in London, playing with her dogs as he loved to do, when the disease spread through the Momford house, and he had not succumbed. She had stated that was one of the few times he had not fallen ill to whatever disease was prevalent.
Following the death of his parents, Lord Momford had been taken by his aunt and uncle to live in Sussex, far from Aunt Mimi’s homes in London or Hertfordshire, and she had not seen him as often as she would like. But his health had improved on the coast, and apparently the robust young man who had dismissed Cora so abruptly was far from the sickly lad he had once been.
Cora lifted her head to search the room for Lord Momford, though she assured herself that she looked only for her godmother.
He towered above Aunt Mimi, nodding as she introduced him to the Ashfords, a local family with a daughter of marriageable age who at this moment curtsied daintily, dipping her blonde curls modestly.
Cora watched Amanda Ashford simper prettily under Lord Momford’s gaze for a moment, and Cora briefly, very briefly, wished that she could effect such an elegant curtsey.
She allowed her gaze to wander toward Lord Momford, who at that very moment looked over Amanda’s head and toward her. Cora drew in a sharp breath and turned away from the scene, almost grateful to greet the next arrivals, who proved to be the last.
“Come, dear, we have received guests long enough. Let us join the festivities,” her stepfather said to her mother within moments. They sailed off, arm in arm, a splendid couple, and Cora looked down at her blue slippers before raising her head and searching the room for a wall or some other cranny in which to huddle. She deliberately avoided looking in Lord Momford’s direction but felt the loss of her beloved aunt Mimi. It was to Aunt Mimi’s side that Cora normally cleaved during these interminable social events to which her mother required, but did not often appreciate, her attendance.
Now, Cora smoothed the powder-blue skirt of her silk dress and moved toward an alcove within the great ballroom of her stepfather’s house, Harrington Hall. A festive red velvet settee beckoned to her, and she seated herself next to a table upon which rested a vase of brilliant summer flowers from the garden. She hid behind them, wishing she had the courage to leave the gathering and make her way to the library.
“No, dear,” her mother had said earlier. “You most certainly may not forgo attendance at my ball. It is, after all, only a small country dance, not some large London affair. It is enough that I allow you to
remain secluded in the country when we go up to London. You are well on your way to becoming a bluestocking, my dear.”
The discussion was not new, and Cora knew her mother’s next words before they were uttered.
“You will never find a husband if you lock yourself away with books. I do not think your stepfather objects to supporting you for the rest of your life, but I mind. I desire your happiness, Cora, and I do not believe it rests entirely with books, the confines of this estate and your godmother.”
“Yes, mother,” Cora had mumbled, as she always did. The idea of marriage did not appeal to her, and she did not think she could marry a man who did not enjoy books as much as she. Her stepfather had no time for such, enjoying a full life of entertaining her mother, fishing on the estate and traveling to the continent upon occasion.
“You are too much like your father, Cora.” Her mother had sighed as she rummaged in Cora’s wardrobe for a dress. She had pulled out the blue one, and Cora had eyed it with disinterest.
“He also loved his books and would read to you in the library long before you could understand the words.”
Cora loved it when her mother talked about her father, but she did so rarely.
“I probably should have put a halt to that but saw no harm in it at the time. His voice soothed you, and you two often fell asleep together in one of the large chairs.”
Cora sighed. She missed their house some miles distant in the country. Her mother had not sold it when she married Lord Hayes and moved to his estate, and it was at present leased.
“I miss the house,” Cora said. Her mother, surveying the blue dress and deciding upon it, paused and looked over her shoulder.
“I am contemplating selling it, Cora,” she had murmured, eyeing her daughter cautiously.
A pain shot through Cora’s heart at the memory of her mother’s words.
“No!” Cora had jumped up. “No, please, mother!”
“What good will it do to keep the house, Cora? I understand how you feel about your childhood home, but it is an unnecessary expense. Your stepfather does not mind if I keep the property, but I will never move back there, so why keep it?”
“Because it is my home,” Cora had murmured anxiously. “It is all I have left of my childhood. I wish to buy it myself and live in it one day.”
Cora’s mother, in the act of laying the blue dress down on the bed, had turned to stare at her daughter.
“Buy it? And live in it...alone? Nonsense,” her mother said. “Impossible! No young woman lives alone. And how would you pay for it, may I ask?”
Cora had no money, and her father had left everything to her mother.
“I will find a way, Mother. Please do not sell it yet. I will find a way.”
Her mother shook her head.
“I feel more inclined to sell it now that I know you harbor such improbable dreams of buying the house and living in it alone. You are only twenty, not yet the spinster you imagine yourself to be.” She bent to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “But I will postpone thoughts of selling it for now if it distresses you so much.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Cora had said.
Now, sitting on the settee, remembering the earlier conversation, she wondered how she would manage to buy the house.
Two pale-yellow trousered legs appeared before her, and she looked up. Lord Momford bowed in front of her.
“May I join you?” he asked unexpectedly. Relieved that he had not asked her to dance, since she was simply terrible at it, she nodded bemusedly. She could have imagined many things since meeting Lord Momford, but not that he should desire to engage her in conversation.
He seated himself beside her and crossed his legs. Cora stared straight ahead, not daring to look at him.
“Aunt Mimi told me long ago that you do not like to go about—to attend balls, dances, dinners and the like,” he said, his voice quiet. She did not forgive him for his earlier behavior, and she responded with as few words as possible.
“No,” she said.
“Nor do I.”
Cora did not respond.
She heard him draw in a deep breath and release it quietly.
“I beg your forgiveness for my reprehensible conduct upon our introduction, Miss Prentice. I truly do. Aunt Mimi has suddenly taken the notion into her head that I must marry, and she has been most ardent in her persuasions, but I do not wish to marry.”
Cora did turn to him then. His apologetic expression seemed sincere enough.
“Then we do share at least one thing in common—our desire never to marry,” she said flatly before turning away. He had apologized nicely, and now he must leave.
“Why do you protest so vehemently against the institution?” he asked.
Cora turned to him again. “I truly have no idea. I simply would rather read books in the library or garden than drive about in carriages with a husband to visit acquaintances here in the country or in London.”
Lord Momford chuckled at her words. His blue eyes sparkled and white teeth gleamed before he covered his smile with a cupped hand as he cleared his throat. She stiffened.
“Are you laughing at me, Lord Momford?” She favored him with her darkest look.
He clearly fought for control of his mouth before pressing his lips together.
“I am sorry, Miss Prentice. Forgive me. Yes, I think I am laughing at you, and I know how ill advised that must be.”
Cora wished she could jump to her feet and stalk off, but for some unfathomable reason, she did not.
“And why, pray tell, do you not wish to marry? Perhaps I could find reason to laugh at you!”
Lord Momford, apparently still struggling in the throes of delight, breathed in deeply before speaking.
“That seems only fair. Unlike you, Miss Prentice, I do not think I should dislike driving about the countryside in a carriage, but I do not care for the incessant rounds of social gaiety, visits and calls so prevalent in society. I too would much rather read books. The library is my sanctuary.”
Slightly mollified by his frank admission, she almost felt prepared to forgive his earlier transgression during their introduction.
“Alas, I find nothing in your words with which to mock you,” she said.
“And my laughter was not an attempt to mock you,” he said. “In fact, I feel rather grateful to you for making me laugh. Aunt Mimi says I do not laugh enough.”
At that, Cora smiled widely.
“She has said the same thing to me.”
Lord Momford stared at her mouth for a moment before she raised a self-conscious hand to her face.
“Do I have something in my teeth?” she asked. “Why do you stare so?”
Lord Momford blinked and raised his eyes to hers.
“Oh, no! No, I see nothing objectionable in your smile. Quite the reverse actually.”
Cora blinked. Was that a compliment? She could not be sure.
“There you two are!” a familiar voice spoke.
Chapter 2
Cora looked up to see her godmother bearing down on them, a happy smile on her face.
“I am so pleased to see that you have put aside that unfortunate introduction and are fast becoming friends,” Aunt Mimi said.
Cora opened her mouth to protest, but Lord Momford rose and spoke first.
“But nothing more than friends, Aunt Mimi. I trust I have made myself clear on that subject.”
Cora did jump up then. She did not want to marry the odious man, but the least he could do was stop protesting so vehemently. Would she really be such a terrible catch?
“You are really the most insufferable man, Lord Momford! Not only do I not wish to become anything more than friends with you, I do not even wish for such a close relationship as that from you...or with you!”
Cora bit her lip and curtsied.
“Forgive me for being rude to your guest, Aunt Mimi. Mama would be shocked at my display of bad manners. Forgive me,” she said, and she hurried off.
She thou
ght she heard Lord Momford call her name, but she did not stop moving until she reached her mother’s side. Her stepfather, never far from her mother’s side, was engaged in conversation with several gentlemen.
“Goodness, Cora!” her mother exclaimed. “What has you in such a tizzy? Your cheeks are as rosy as could be and those blue eyes of yours snapping! Has someone made you angry?”
“That silly nephew of Aunt Mimi’s,” Cora growled. “The man is an arrogant fool who does not think before he speaks.”
“Lord Momford? What could he have said to upset you so?”
Cora bit her lip. She was not in the habit of discussing such personal matters with her mother, but she had spoken, and she knew her mother would ferret the information out of her sooner rather than later.
“He seems to think that Aunt Mimi is desirous of making a match between us...or something to that effect.” Cora’s cheeks flamed even hotter. “Utter nonsense! Aunt Mimi knows I do not wish to marry. She would never foster such a silly notion.”
Her mother did not answer at once, and Cora looked up at her.
Dark, sleek hair without a hint of gray showing—the only trait that Anne Prentice had passed along to her daughter. Her mother’s face, still young and beautiful, bore an expression of interest.
“Do you think not?” her mother asked.
“Think not what? That Aunt Mimi would not attempt to marry me off to her nephew? No! She would not! Absolutely not!”
“Oh, my dear, I think you may not know your godmother as well as you thought.”
“What do you mean, Mama?” Cora demanded, knowing she was very close to incivility.
Her mother quirked an elegant dark eyebrow as if to remind Cora of such, and Cora recognized the expression.
“Forgive me for being discourteous, Mama. I do not mean to snap at you.”
“No, I know you did not,” her mother conceded. “What I meant was that I think it has always been your godmother’s wish that you and Lord Momford marry. She hinted at such an event many years ago, but you were young, and I did not concern myself with her dreams. Now that you are of age, I think she plans on making a concerted effort to bring you two together.”
Sweet Summer Kisses Page 49
