She blinked her dark long lashes innocently at him. He had lost himself for a moment.
Stayed silent too long.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I have known Lord Blessing for many years.”
“You are one of the Angels of Death,” she said softly.
“Ah, so you have heard about me.”
“The entire parish has heard about you, sir. You are heroes—nay, legends.”
He grunted. “I always thought that a legend had to be dead. We are mere mortals, who were very good at the tasks assigned us.”
Her eyes assessed him. They trailed quickly over the entire length of his body. She seemed to approve. He hoped she approved. He craved her approval.
“You know who I am, and yet…I do not know who you are,” he said softly. He wasn’t being entirely truthful. He had a fair bet that she was Hope Fortescue.
“Aye, Lord Langford, and I do believe it should remain that way.”
“I beg to differ. I think you are Miss Hope Fortescue. You are the eldest of Colonel Blessing’s nieces.”
She hesitated, glancing back at him. She looked a trifle surprised. In the next instant, she pulled free of his hold, and fled to the doors, leaving the soft and sweet scent of violets in her wake. Before he could stop her, she had escaped.
He sighed.
Why did it always seem as if he was running after women?
He should stop. He should let them pursue him. He should play hard to get for once. She intrigued him greatly. That was too hard for him to deny. He couldn’t let her go…not yet. He had to engage her again.
He had to ask her for a dance.
Chapter Four
Hope quickly moved through the grand house back to the ballroom.
She was shaken to her core. How or what had happened to her? His touch. His touch had sent a spark into her as if he was lighting a flame within her that now burned so brightly, she felt as if she would erupt into flames.
Stopping briefly, she put her hand up self-consciously to her hair and made sure that it was still in place. Her ragged breathing slowed. She couldn’t stop for long. He was behind her. Falling back into a brisk walk, she entered the ballroom and searched the room for her family.
The beautiful melody of the Wakefield Hunt dance filled the air, and those dancing, looked to be having a merry time of it.
She felt Lord Langford pursuing her at a leisurely pace. Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed down, and she feared that with the enchanting earl around, it wouldn’t return to its normal steady pace for the rest of the night.
Rejoining her aunts who sat watching the younger set dancing, she settled herself on an empty chair beside her Aunt Phoebe. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she attempted to catch her breath, praying that no one else would notice her affliction.
Still feeling hot, she snapped open her fan, and cooled herself off with the rapid fluttering of her wrist.
“Your color is up,” Priscilla observed. “Are you feeling ill? We can return to Elysium Hall if you are, Hope. We needn’t stay here any longer. We have done our duty by making an appearance. Christian shan’t mind if we slip out early. If you do not feel strong enough for the short journey back to Elysium Hall, we shall ask Christian if you can retire to one of the bedchambers.”
Her aunts fussed over her and the rest of her sisters like they were their mothers. Hope supposed that not having their own children gave them the need to focus their maternal instincts on their nieces and nephew.
“I only need to cool off. I was in the Library, but I had the sudden compulsion to see what was going on here. I missed the excitement.”
She caught her Aunt Susanna rolling her eyes.
“Oh, so it had nothing to do with that fine young gentleman I saw chasing you into the ballroom?” Susanna said wryly. “I do hope that nothing untoward happened between the two of you.”
“No, Aunt Susanna,” she said hastily. “Nothing improper happened. He followed me into the Library and being unchaperoned, I escaped at my earliest opportunity.”
“Hold fast, Hope. He seems determined to pursue you. He is coming over here,” Susanna commented. “And I must admit, that young blood isn’t hard on the eyes. He looks like a fine gentleman, indeed, just not as fine as Peter.”
“Oh, gracious. He is dashing, isn’t he?” Abigail said dreamily. “If he asks you to dance, my dear, do accept him. He…he looks like a Grecian God. Why, if I was twenty years younger, I would have been quite besotted with him,” she sighed, and by the faraway look on her face, Hope could see that she was quite besotted with Lord Langford.
Phoebe sighed. “He reminds me of a lord that was searching for a wife when we were out on the marriage mart. Priscilla, do you recall who he looks like? It is most vexing…I cannot seem to remember the young man’s name. Well, he wouldn’t be a young man anymore…he would be a few years older than us.”
Priscilla joined Phoebe and together they continued to study Lord Langford. “I see what you mean, Phoebe…he does look like someone we used to know. Oh, dash it all, who was it? He resembles the Duke of Alton a bit, but that’s not who I am thinking of.”
“Oh, no. Gracious, no. This lord I am thinking of has no foreign blood in him. The Duke of Alton’s mother is Italian, and I always thought he greatly favored his high spirited mama. Wenham, Wyndham…it was something like that. Oh, I wish I could remember his name!”
Hope groaned. Lord Langford did look like a God from Greek Mythology. He had fine eyes, a fine physique and his face—his face was divine. She sighed. She had never laid eyes on a man with such striking features.
“He isn’t as handsome as Peter,” Susanna said stubbornly. “And the lord he resembles was probably a libertine as well. He has that devil may care look to him. I would advise you to keep your distance from that man. No good can come from becoming entangled with such a rascal.”
“Lord Blessing is a rascal as well, but he has made Fanny a fine husband,” Hope countered softly.
No one could possibly equal Peter in Susanna’s estimation. She was completely devoted to him. Her adoration for her nephew could never be shaken. She was the aunt who had led the campaign against Fanny, attempting to convince Fanny to accept Peter as her husband. Fanny had Hope’s undying respect for staying strong under such overwhelming odds. She didn’t think she could remain so stalwart with all of her aunts set against her in such a way.
“You needn’t dance with him unless you truly want to,” Susanna said pragmatically, eyeing her sharply.
Hope studied her eldest aunt. The woman’s light blue eyes were keen and sharp, and she had prominent lines at the edges of her eyes, probably caused from far too much frowning. She had a short, upturned nose, and her powdered rugose ridden cheeks, made her grimace. Hope looked away quickly, and prayed that she would not age in such a dramatic way. Susanna looked years older than most of her contemporaries. She overheard Phoebe saying to Priscilla once that Susanna had been an old child.
“I know, Aunt Susanna,” she said softly.
The rest of her sisters were still engaged with other dance partners. By the time the night was through, they would be quite exhausted. Perhaps one of them would find their future husband tonight.
Faith looked happy, as did the others. Desi looked sullen. She always looked sullen. She had decided long ago that she wouldn’t smile too much, telling Amy that smiling was one way of begging for wrinkles.
Pursing her lips, Hope wondered if Desi, too, had looked at Susanna and decided that she didn’t want to age like that. Hope sighed, and looked over to examine the other ladies who sat or stood hoping that a gentleman would notice them and ask them for a dance.
Miss Duffy stood off to the side, looking like a forlorn little waif. Hope stood up, and glided over to her, keeping a wary eye on Lord Langford who stood surrounded by the other members of the Angels of Death. If fortune favored her, he would spend the rest of the evening lost in their company, or retire to the Card Room for a good game of cribbage or whist. It wasn�
��t that she didn’t want him to pursue her, she did. Something inside of her compelled her to go over to him and seek his attention, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Her heart continued to race, and she grudgingly pulled her eyes away from where they gazed. He looked so dashing. So debonair. There truly wasn’t a better looking man in the world.
“Good evening, Miss Duffy,” she said, settling her eyes on the red haired Irishwoman. Miss Duffy turned to her and gave her a soft smile. She was dressed in a champagne colored frock, and looked positively radiant.
“Good evening, Miss Fortescue. You do look lovely in the dress that Fanny selected for you. She bought that for you as a gift, and you should have seen the look on her face after she selected it. She kept telling me that it would draw out the beautiful green of your eyes, and she was right. She is always right. I am happy to see that you decided to wear it, and that you decided to grace us with your company.”
“I could hardly stay away considering this grand gift. My sister Desi felt slighted. She wanted the dress.”
“Did she?” Miss Duffy’s eyes sparkled. “She needs to learn that we cannot always have what we want. Unfortunately, I have had that lesson served to me several times in my life.” Hope followed Miss Duffy’s gaze to where it lingered on Lord Chorley. She knew of Cassius Fane, and they had met on more than one occasion. He would be hard pressed to find a woman willing to marry him. He was an earl, and he had a substantial fortune. Unfortunately, he was cursed with an overbearing mother, and many didn’t want to have that monstrosity as a mother-in-law, and so, he didn’t have too many admirers. Instead, the ladies that might have been tempted by him, would select a peer that had already lost their mother, or had a mother that wasn’t such a dragon.
“Lord Chorley looks quite handsome tonight,” Hope mused, carefully watching Miss Duffy’s reaction to confirm her suspicions. Could Miss Duffy ever hope to catch a man like Lord Chorley? She didn’t know much about Miss Duffy, only that she was a distant cousin of Fanny’s on her mother’s side, and that she hailed from a land owner family in Ireland. She wasn’t certain if Miss Duffy’s father had a peerage or not. She knew that Fanny’s grandfather on her mother’s side had been an earl.
Still, Irish peers ranked below that of English peers, so while Fanny’s mother had come from a highly respected family, she had married up by entering into a marriage with her Uncle Christian. Many would look down upon Miss Duffy, no matter the circumstances of her birth, being Irish, many couldn’t look past that.
“Does he?” she asked breathlessly, her cheeks coloring slightly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Hope smiled at the small fib Miss Duffy had just told. She could deny the calling of her heart all she wanted. A day would come where she couldn’t do it anymore.
Hope’s eyes studied the dancers as they lined up, and her heart sunk. Desi chanced a glance their way, and she smiled. Her smile was a triumphantly smug one. Her dance partner was the lord they had just been discussing.
How had she snared him into her trap so quickly? Desi was being a naughty little vixen!
Desi’s ability to attract and keep dance partners always troubled Hope. True, Desi was a beauty but she managed to gain dance partners just by giving them a coquettish look. One look, and they were done for. There was only one explanation for it. She was doing something that their father had always warned them against. She would watch Desi carefully, and see if her hunches were correct.
Lord Chorley wore a strangled expression. He looked as if he had been tricked and wanted to be anywhere but where he was at the moment. Somehow, Desi had found a way to lure him into dancing with her. But how? If she was doing what Hope suspected she was doing, she had to put a stop to it. Desi was a master manipulator and someone had to stop her before she got out of hand and ruined someone’s life.
“My sister seems quite keen on Lord Chorley,” she commented airily, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Miss Duffy to gauge her reaction.
“He came over to where your sisters and I stood, and Miss Desi was out on the dance floor with him before he had uttered a word. She looked at him, and he was bowing and asking her for a dance. He was paying me attention, and his behavior changed drastically after she came up to us. It was most disconcerting. That sister of yours has a way about her. She…it is almost as if she can put men under a spell.”
“I understand, and you are right. Desi does have a way of making a man spellbound. The little minx needs to start behaving herself.” If Desi was up to no good, using charms that most women didn’t possess, she would have to give Desi a stern talking to and forbid her from continuing to do such a despicable thing. “I am sorry that she picked Lord Chorley as her gentleman of the night.”
“He shall ask me to dance at some point, I am quite certain of that,” Miss Duffy said, though her voice faltered.
“I wouldn’t bet on it, Miss Duffy. My sister has captured his attention and unless someone else strikes her fancy, she has dug her claws into him. I could…I could attempt to assist you in your endeavor. I have ways of distracting Desi.”
“I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble,” Miss Duffy said, carefully keeping her gaze fixed on Lord Chorley, as he finished up the dance with Desi.
“Leave her to me, Miss Duffy. It is no bother at all. I shall find another way of occupying her time. It takes all of her concentration to do what she has just done. I simply need to distract her a bit and give her a reason for settling her attention on me. I shan’t take me but a moment to rub her the wrong way. I am an old hand at it.”
Desi returned to where she stood beside Miss Duffy with Lord Chorley at her side. He looked as if he wanted to run for the hills, and his mood seemed rather cast down. He brightened visibly as he came closer to Miss Duffy.
Desi looked between them, an expression of sheer cunning, dancing in her pansy brown eyes. Her sister could think she was clever, and maybe she was, but her spite had to be dealt with somehow, and she couldn’t be allowed to run amok using her enchanting qualities to such an end.
The next dance would probably be a quadrille and Hope felt quite certain that Lord Chorley didn’t want to be engaged with Desi for that long of a dance. She bit her lip. However could she remove Desi’s attraction from the elegant earl? She knew that Lord Langford was an earl, and as such, he might entice Desi—however, she didn’t think he would entice her quite as much as Lord Chorley appealed to her. Lord Chorley was from an old family—they had been land barons since the days of William the Conqueror and so his family held far more social cachet.
Lord Langford was a handsomer specimen, and he was a hero of the Wars, having earned his titles through his exemplary service to the Crown. He also didn’t have his family lurking about him. Come to think of it, no one knew much about his origins.
Did he even have a family to speak of?
“Have you seen Lord Langford tonight, Desi?” she asked softly, instantly attracting Desi’s attention.
“No. I am not acquainted with the gent. Now that I reflect upon it, wasn’t he recently created an earl after having been ennobled for his services to the Crown? He was a baron first, wasn’t he?” she asked stiffly, her eyes feasting still upon Lord Chorley’s nervous visage.
“Oh, aye. He paid me some attention only a short while ago. He was nearly falling at my feet, Desi. His fawning over me nearly did me in. I fear he might ask me to dance,” she exclaimed, planting the seed that would steer Desi away from Lord Chorley. The little chit coveted everything that Hope desired. So, telling her about Lord Langford was wicked indeed.
It wasn’t as if Hope was losing anything in the bargain she had struck. She was attracted to Lord Langford, but his interest in her would be fleeting once someone like Desi started to pay him attention. None could resist her sister even if they tried, and that was something she would have to take the little chit to task for. It gave Desi an unfair advantage, and if she couldn’t hook a prospective match without using such means, how would she ever know if the
man was truly in love with her?
“He and his mates are coming this way,” Miss Duffy said softly.
Lord Chorley seemed to have finally summoned his nerve. The dazed expression in his eyes gradually faded away. Hope smiled. Desi wasn’t the only one that could throw her little tricks around. “Would you pay me the honor of taking the next dance with me, Miss Duffy?” he asked in a hurried manner, darting a cautious gaze at Desi as he did so.
“I would be delighted, sir,” she said, accepting his arm. With a large jubilant grin, he led her out onto the dance floor. Their mother, acting as leading lady seemed ready to call the dance, and the orchestra waited instruction. Her plan had worked. Desi seemed to have finally caught on. She glared at Hope and looked ready to start a fight.
“I merely gave you a taste of your own medicine. You needn’t get into a huff about it. Watch yourself, Desi. Mama shan’t like it if you make a scene. And we all know that Mama’s temper rivals yours. If you push her too far, and she falls into a mood, there will be no peace for you. She will ruin your night. She will tell you to go home, and we all know that she is immune to your charms. Thankfully, you cannot wrap her around your pinky finger by employing your otherworldly charms.” As it was their own dear mother that stood ready to call the next dance, she knew that Elizabeth would be grieved deeply should her own daughters start a fight during the ball. She delighted in parties and merrymaking, and wouldn’t stand for any of Desi’s nonsense during such an evening.
“You little…” Desi stopped just in time. Lord Langford, Lord Cary and Lord Blessing sauntered up to them.
“Minx?” Hope said softly, watching as Desi’s eyes bugled out of her head, and she looked about ready to explode.
Felix cleared his throat. “Lord Cary, Lord Langford, this is Fanny’s cousin, Miss Fortescue, and uh, err, Miss Fortescue’s youngest sister, Miss Desi.”
She and Desi bobbed into a curtsy, and Lord Langford and Lord Cary bowed in return. “I mustn’t tarry,” Lord Cary said. “I must locate my wife before she gets into any mischief.”
His Candlemas Hope Page 4
