Dance With Me At Midnight (Regency Fairy Twists Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Dance With Me At Midnight

  Samantha Holt

  Copyright 2017 ©Samantha Holt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by www.promoforauthors.com

  Edited by Cat’s Eye Editing

  Proofed by Destini Reece

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Herefordshire, England 1817

  “Eloise, please tell me you have not been near those God-awful creatures again.”

  Eloise drew off her hat, plucked a bit of straw from it and rolled her eyes. Her stepbrother paused to eye himself in the looking-glass hanging in the entranceway of Evergreen Hall. He ignored her while he pushed back an invisible errant strand of hair. David’s dark golden locks were never an inch out of place, carefully styled and slicked so that each curl presented perfectly around his face. Clean-shaven and perfectly polished, he never failed to make her aware of her inability to remain as neat as he.

  Of course, she did not spend all day, every day, looking after her appearance. She had far too much to do.

  “The rain is coming down heavily now. I needed to ensure they were warm.”

  David fixed her with a look. Raised eyebrow, blue eyes cold, lips thin. She was well used to that look from just about every member of the household whenever she so much as uttered a word. It would not matter if she declared herself betrothed to the Prince Regent, she would still have that look bestowed upon her as though she were barely worth mustering anything other than disdain for.

  That might have bothered her once but it had been years since she had felt anything but a mild annoyance toward her family.

  “Those little rats should be drowned, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “They are cats, not rats. Or more precisely, kittens.”

  “Flea-ridden, disease-carrying, vile creatures,” her stepbrother muttered. “I do not care for them one bit.”

  She forced a tight smile. “What a fine job it is then, that I do not ask you to.”

  “Yes, but you’re…” he waved a hand, “out there, touching them. How do I know you are not carrying disease or…fleas?” His lips curled in disgust as though simply saying the words might infest him with fleas or illness.

  Before she could answer, Adam strode into the hallway. Though David’s twin and similar in looks, he was several inches shorter than his brother—something for which he tried to make up for by having his boots specially made with a hidden heel. Not that Adam would relish his stepsister knowing such things. He was, like his brother, well-dressed from his cream pantaloons to his dark waistcoat and tailcoat. His cravat was tied with a precision that Eloise could only wonder at. The brothers had gone through several valets in the past year, none quite able to meet their demands, it seemed. The latest two had yet to tire of the twins’ demands but she knew it would not be long before David or Adam lost their temper and they would have to hunt for yet more staff to serve the spoiled men.

  “Did you say fleas?” Adam demanded.

  “She has been playing with those creatures again,” David explained.

  “Kittens,” Eloise said, patiently.

  “So, you have added yet more animals to your menagerie?” Adam asked, one neat eyebrow lifted.

  “Their mother died. I could hardly leave them,” Eloise protested, even knowing her stepbrothers would care little for some orphaned kittens.

  David came to his brother’s side. “You could. And you should. It’s is called nature, sister. Let it run its course.”

  Adam shook his head. “Why Father allows this to continue, I do not know. I should remind him once more that you are neglecting your duties in this house in favor of flea-ridden animals.”

  His brother smirked. “Yes, do you not have a spring ball to organize, Eloise? I am sure that is more important than a handful of filthy creatures.”

  Eloise would not mention that her collection of abandoned and sick animals was growing by the day. What had started off as one rude parrot, cast off by his owner who could not tolerate the chatter, had turned into two goats, an ugly sheep that insisted on butting people and chasing old ladies, five cats and two kittens. And, of course, the old nag that her stepfather was threatening to shoot as he was a waste of money.

  After getting a reputation for taking in animals that no one else wanted, the villagers had come to her many times over the recent months with more animals. A few she had found homes for but some were too ugly, weak or old to find loving homes, so she did the best she could.

  “The ball is almost organized,” she said calmly. “I am perfectly capable of running this household and looking after the animals.” She smiled. “Of course, I would not expect you two to understand such capabilities. You would find it a little taxing.”

  “Hardly,” David sneered. “I could organize a few menus and order about servants with ease. Not that I ever intend to. That will be my wife’s job when the time comes.” He leaned in. “I do hope you have invited some beautiful young women. It will be a frightful bore if you have not.”

  “Oh yes, I invited Lady Surridge and her sisters.” She grinned. “They are so looking forward to a dance with you both.”

  Adam groaned. “What did you do that for? You know she never leaves us alone.”

  Eloise lifted a shoulder. “Does she not? Oh dear.”

  Lady Surridge was a wealthy widow of about fifty. Unfortunately, she and her three spinster sisters had taken quite the liking to Eloise’s stepbrothers, even though they had little interest in the eccentric women who quite fancied a younger husband. If nothing else would interest her at the ball, it would at least be amusing to see Adam and David chased about by the determined ladies.

  David narrowed his gaze at her. “You ought to be more careful about how you treat us, Eloise. You do not want something happening to your animals, do you?”

  “Why, are you planning on visiting them? I’m not at all sure you would wish to go near those—what did you call them?—flea-ridden rats.” She paused and frowned at David’s shoulder. “Oh dear.”

  “What? What is it?” he demanded.

  “Oh, well, I think I might have just seen...” She pointed to his lapel. “Yes, there it is.” Putting on an apologetic smile, she tilted her head. “A flea I’m afraid. Oh, look there it goes.”

  “Christ, get it off, for goodness sakes.” Her stepbrother began tugging off his jacket with haste. “Where is it? Do you see it?”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure.”

&
nbsp; “Adam, help me,” David shouted, practically stomping his feet.

  Adam threw up his hands. “I am not going near you, not if there’s a flea on you. I have delicate skin. It might bite me.”

  “I think it might have jumped onto you, Adam,” Eloise said breezily. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. “Oh, look at the time. I must be getting on. Lots to arrange for the ball. I hear lavender is a good repellent for fleas.”

  “I hate lavender,” one of her stepbrothers declared as he began stripping off his jacket and cravat.

  Chuckling to herself, Eloise swept past them and moved through the lower chambers to her stepfather’s study. Her stomach bunched a little as she knocked. It annoyed her that, after all these years, she still felt apprehension about seeing him. Why her mother ever married him she did not know.

  Well, perhaps she did. Safety and security for them both, of course, but sometimes she wished her mother had married for love instead of wealth. Perhaps then her mother would have enjoyed her last years of life and Eloise might have a stepfather that cared for her.

  “Come in,” her stepfather, Viscount Tremaine bellowed.

  Shoulders drawn up, chin lifted, she eased open the door. Her gaze landed on her stepfather, tucked behind his desk. Several lamps were lit near the desk but the rest of the room was cast in shadow. Despite the weather beginning to clear, he had kept the curtains drawn, ensuring the study was blanketed in a haze of gloom.

  The book-covered corners of the room remained mysterious and shadowed while her stepfather’s desk stood out in bright contrast with no less than three lamps upon it and several more scattered about the shelving directly behind him. She had little idea why, but her stepfather had always preferred to spend his time in the dark and he loathed the rain. Of course, no one particularly adored rain but the viscount had a special aversion to it. Eloise had some suspicions it was to do with it having been raining when her mother passed from influenza—not that the cold-hearted man would ever admit to that.

  “Well, are you going to come in or not?”

  The barked demand had her scurrying into the room and shutting the door behind her. She edged up to his desk. He drew off his glasses and laid them on the desk before eyeing her. With thick, gray hair, dark eyes that sometimes seemed fathomless to her and a physique that he kept in shape with fencing, he was—for his age—a handsome man. It was a shame about the fathomless eyes, though.

  And the ugly heart.

  Her stepfather ran his gaze over her from head to toe, making her want to fidget. She clamped her thighs together and kept her hands still. She would not be intimidated by him, not anymore. Too many years had been wasted to feeling fearful of this man.

  “What have you been doing?” His gaze arrowed in on her face. “Is that straw?”

  Eloise plucked the straw from her hair and tucked her hands behind her. Blast, she should have neatened up before seeing him. The last thing she wanted to do was remind him she was housing stray animals in the barn. He tolerated it mostly because he would not go near the animals and none of the servants would touch them either—mostly out of loyalty to her, but he did not know that.

  “You had better not be neglecting your duties.”

  Eloise shook her head. “We are all prepared for the arrival of our first guests tomorrow.”

  “Good. Everything must run perfectly.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Perfectly, you understand. If anything goes wrong, it will all be on you, Eloise.”

  She held back a sigh. His threats were empty. She had been running the household since her mother had fallen sick. It turned out she had a knack for dealing with servants and organizing menus and ensuring the grand house in which they lived remained clean and organized. The spring ball had been a tradition since she and her mother had moved in with the viscount, and she had taken over the running of it at the age of five and ten. Not once had it been a disaster.

  “All is ready,” she assured him.

  “If you are neglecting your duties for those wretched beasts...”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. Everything is in hand, my lord.”

  My lord. He had insisted on her addressing him as that since her mother’s marriage to him. Not even stepfather. It had rankled her and her mother to begin with but now she was grateful for it. She had little desire to utter the word father to him.

  “The newly minted Earl of Marlton has accepted, has he not?”

  The tangled web of dread that always lingered in her stomach when in her stepfather’s company tightened. “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “And he has the guest room in the east wing, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” Those cold eyes fixed upon her, making her feel as though unable to move from the spot on which she stood. How did he manage to command her with just one look, even after all her self-talk of bravery and not caring what he thought of her? “You are to be utterly charming to him, Eloise. And well-presented. No streaks of dirt or straw in your hair. I expect you to be perfect. There will be a lot of competition for him.”

  Her stomach plummeted. The viscount had been hinting that the earl would need to be made welcome by her but she had hoped she had misunderstood her stepfather. Apparently not. It seemed he intended for her to catch his eye.

  “I will try my best,” she murmured. “If he does not like me, it cannot be helped.”

  He stood abruptly, making her take a step back. Her breaths quickened. He would never strike her but his temper was terrifying. Many an expensive ornament had been destroyed in a fit of rage in this household because of her stepfather. Of course, he always blamed her and ensured it was deducted from her meager allowance.

  “You will make him like you, do you understand?” His cheeks reddened to an alarming beetroot shade.

  She nodded meekly and backed out of the room. There was nothing more to be said but she doubted this earl would be at all interested in her, no matter how much her stepfather hoped for it. And she was not sure she was interested either.

  Chapter Two

  Puddles splashed underfoot as Charles stepped out of the carriage. He peered up at the building. Some elements of the original Tudor facade remained—towers at either end with rounded caps and red brick that reflected the shape of the gatehouse through which his carriage had just entered. He had seen Hanbury Hall from a distance several times but never had occasion to visit.

  He sighed and put on his hat. He had occasion now, though.

  The weight of responsibility pushed down upon his shoulders. He straightened them and silently scolded himself. There were worse fates than inheriting a title and siring an heir. He was merely about to embark on the journey that almost all titled men followed. He grimaced. Marriage to a rich woman he had never met.

  He had little time to consider the ramifications of this planned visit. Not when his attention was drawn to the front door from which a woman burst out in a blur of blue. She waved her hands frantically and dashed down the steps.

  “Who left the damned door ajar?” she shouted to goodness knows who.

  It was only when a bird swooped past him did he realize exactly why she was dashing about. The creature—a gray-winged, scruffy-looking thing—came at him again and Charles ducked, but too late. It knocked into him, seemed to falter in the air and finally adjusted, but not before depositing a lovely dropping upon his shoulder.

  “No! Bad Albert,” the woman scolded. He assumed she was talking to the bird. “Albert, come here.” She tapped her shoulder and the bird gave one last flutter about him before settling on her shoulder.

  Brow raised, Charles drew out a handkerchief from his pocket and peered at the woman. The bird sat somewhat smugly on her shoulder—a parrot he realized. Apparently, he had come across some sort of female pirate, though she looked far from pirate-like in blue satin with her fair hair curled high upon her head. Ringlets framed her face but were not at all neat. Frizz escaped from every inch of her head and her cheeks were red.<
br />
  That aside, she was pretty. Not enchanting or beautiful or stunning, but certainly pretty in a delicate way. He took it all in with one glance. Slim wrists, slightly scrawny arms, no breasts to speak of and a petite face. Small in every way.

  But definitely, definitely pretty.

  Charles turned his attention back to his shoulder and dabbed gingerly at the deposit the bird had left with a handkerchief.

  “I am sorry.” She offered him a smile that looked more as though she was trying to hide a giggle than be contrite. “Someone left the door open. He panicked because I was shouting at him. He is normally well-behaved.”

  “Albert, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “He ought to be tethered.”

  Her eyes widened. “Certainly not. He needs his freedom.”

  “To do his business on guests’ shoulders?”

  “He has never done that on anyone else before,” she protested.

  “Well don’t I feel special,” he said dryly.

  She peered at the carriage behind him which was emblazoned with the family crest. “You’re the earl?”

  “An earl. Certainly not the only one.”

  She frowned at him. “You know what I mean.”

  Lord Charles Edwards, Earl of Marlton at your service.” He dipped his head.

  “Lady Eloise Cinclair. You are the first of our guests to arrive. Most are not expected until late this evening.”

  The breezy way in which she uttered those words had him wondering if she had little idea of the enormity of their meeting. He did, unfortunately, all too well. Standing in front of him, with a scruffy parrot attached to her shoulder, was his prospective bride.

  It seemed Lady Eloise Cinclair was not quite all her stepfather had proposed her to be.

  A golden eyebrow arched. His perusal of her had been noted, though why she should be eyeing him like that, he did not know. After all, he was not the one with a bird on his shoulder.

  The only way to deal with this was to get down to business. He turned and gave his driver and footmen instructions. His valet barked a few orders then came to stand at his side. Jackson glanced at Lady Eloise and his eyebrow did a similar arch. Although his were much bushier and completely white. Gus Jackson had served Charles’ late father for most of his life and by any rate would continue to serve another ten generations of Edwards men. Despite the white hair that sprouted wildly from his head, his eyebrows and well, quite frankly Jackson’s ears, the man seemed to stay in some sort of stasis.