Heart 0f Desire

by Jenna Jaxon

  “You do seem ready to fly to pieces, Kate, and the evening is just begun.” Celinda’s tinkly little laugh grated rather than soothed at the moment.

  “Well, you didn’t help matters either, cuz.” Kate rounded on her cousin, whose big blue eyes widened innocently.

  “Me? What did I do? I thought I’d give you time to engage yourself with another partner while I took Lord Haversham out of your path.” The petite blonde sniffed. “Is it my fault you’d rather complain about the man than replace him with a more pleasing partner?”

  “How do you know I was complaining about Haversham?”

  “Were you?” Celinda arched a delicate eyebrow.

  “Well, yes.” Kate lowered her voice. She didn’t intend to be tomorrow morning’s prime on-dit if she could help it. “But you couldn’t know that.”

  “Tsk tsk.” Celinda shook a finger at her. “You had that same pained expression on your face when we returned as when we left. How many times have I warned you to school your face if you want to veil your thoughts, my dear?” She plucked the still-full glass from Kate’s hand and set it on a nearby table.

  “You always said that when we were growing up.” Kate rubbed her finger across her lips. Did she truly give away her feelings so easily?

  “Yes, whenever we got into trouble, you were the last person we wanted to try to cover it up.” Celinda shook her head, lost in memory. “Now it’s even more imperative that you watch what you do and say—and how you look.”

  “Oh, please.” Kate grasped her head then quickly turned a smile on the Dowager Countess of Wendley. Once the older woman, one of the ton’s biggest gossips, had passed by, she returned to her cousin. “I’ve had this same lecture from Nathan twice tonight. Behave myself and get a husband. His two edicts for me this Season.”

  “You have to admit, Kate, that your opportunities for marriage are shrinking.” Celinda peered around the dance floor. “There are simply no new gentlemen of any consequence or conversation out this year.”

  “Then who, pray tell, is that?” Kate had been shifting from foot to foot, trying to get used to standing for long periods again, when the most handsome man she’d ever seen walked calmly though the doorway, more graceful in his movements than a cat on a fence rail.

  His dark good looks caught her attention first. Wide shoulders that tapered to slim hips and strong legs supporting his tall frame kept her staring. He was dressed impeccably in elegant black evening clothes, and a snowy white cravat fastened with a modest gold-and-diamond pin made the man so devilishly handsome that she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

  A couple danced by, passing in front of him, and when they moved on, he had vanished.

  Chapter 2

  “Did you see him?” Kate stared at the far side of the ballroom so hard that Lady Fauntleroy raised her quizzing glass and glared back at her. She shook herself. Had that been the sublime vision for whom she’d been searching for two long years? She must seek out Lady Hamilton and beg an introduction.

  “See whom? The room is filled to bursting with guests, Kate.” Celinda had been gazing at the dancers forming the next set. “What I need is for one of them to ask me to dance. Would you mind if Lord Haversham stood up with me?”

  “Of course not,” Kate said, peering distractedly through the knots of people, unable to spy the mysterious gentleman. “Why should I mind?” She stepped around one of the Grecian pillars that graced the ballroom to get a better view. Nothing. Had he truly vanished into thin air? Perhaps they should try the refreshment room.

  “Well, you two always seem to quarrel so spiritedly, I wondered if you were really attracted to one another.”

  “What?” Kate stopped her search, boggled by her cousin’s outrageous suggestion.

  Celinda turned wide, innocent eyes on her. “Oh, you know, like Kate and Petruchio in Shakespeare. Or Beatrice and Benedict, for that matter. They always get together in the end.”

  “I assure you that will not be the case with Kate Locke and Lord Haversham.” Kate shook her shoulders. The very thought made her cringe. “So please, take Lord Haversham and welcome. Although why you would want to waste your time, I do not know. Marcus, Lord Haversham is a dismally old-fashioned man who won’t even let his sister, out for her first Season, dance a waltz.” How could he deny her that most wonderful experience of protracted conversation while flying around the dance floor? “How is the girl going to find out if a gentleman is an acceptable partner if she can’t dance closely with him?”

  “Is the waltz your test for a husband then, Kate?” Celinda’s mouth twitched.

  “I suppose it is.” She hadn’t thought of it like that before, but if truth be told, she often dismissed gentlemen who couldn’t waltz well. “Do you think that a bad thing?”

  “I think it a trifle odd. There are truly characteristics other than dancing that are requisite for a good husband,” Celinda said soberly, her blue eyes now fixed on Kate. “You must take his character into consideration, and his disposition. One can waltz well and still be a rogue.”

  “That is part of the test as well.” Kate laughed. “But all things being equal, if a gentleman has every other sterling quality but can’t acquit himself credibly on the dance floor, he is not for me.”

  “Then you must admit, Lord Haversham should be a mighty contender for your hand.”

  “What?” Madness must have overcome the girl.

  “He has an excellent character, a very kind disposition, and according to my own observation, is an impeccable dancer.” Her cousin nodded fiercely.

  “Has Nathan put you up to this…this matchmaking?” She certainly wouldn’t have put that past her brother.

  “No, I’m simply stating the obvious.”

  “Well, it’s not obvious to me.” Kate wanted to scream. “I just told you that I dislike the way he treats his sister. How do you think he’ll treat his wife?”

  “I know he seems to have old-fashioned ideas about the waltz. I agree that it is unfortunate. However, I am sure Lord Haversham is doing his best given his recent tragic circumstances.” She leaned toward Kate and lowered her voice. “Mamma had it from Lady Fairfax, his aunt, that her nephew is still mourning the loss of his father.” Celinda shook her head, her mouth strained. “I know I would be completely distraught if Papa were to die, and he is ever so much older than the previous earl. The current Lord Haversham and his sisters have not gotten over his death. Perhaps he thinks a waltz too gay a dance for Lady Letitia at this time.” Celinda waved to the slight girl in question, who was standing beside her aunt, her pink cheeks complementing her sweet gown.

  “I doubt it, Celinda.” Kate sighed. The handsome gentleman had completely disappeared. “Lord Haversham is an old fogey, even if he is young. Why Nathan wants me to marry him is quite unfathomable.”

  Celinda’s brows rose nearly to her hairline. “My dear, do open your budget. Has he arranged the marriage? Or has Lord Haversham offered for you? Why did you not tell me?”

  “Because there is nothing to tell.” Lord, both men would drive her to distraction. “Nathan wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing without consulting me, and he knows he needn’t waste his breath because I would refuse. Haversham has never had a kind word to say to me, and looks dour whenever we meet, which is too often as it is.” Kate wrinkled her nose. The thought of being leg-shackled to the man made her slightly ill. “I won’t marry him, and I don’t care if I am in my third Season.”

  “You could always attract the attention of Lord Somersby.” Celinda sniggered and cast a look over at that gentleman, quite dashing in his extremely well-cut evening clothes. “The two of you would make quite an elegant couple were you to partner in a dance or…something more permanent. I wonder if he would pass your waltz test.” The gleam of mirth in her cousin’s eyes exasperated Kate that much more.

  “I heard about his antics at Lady Marbury’s Christmas party, Celinda—from you!”

  Her cousin burst out laughing, making the gold ringlets b
eside her face dance and bob. “Perhaps he has reformed in the New Year.”

  “In a pig’s eye. You’d have better chance of reforming a pig than Somersby.” Kate grimaced and shuddered, bringing another peal of laughter from Celinda.

  “It will take a special woman to tame that one.” Celinda cocked her head, giving Kate a hopeful look. “Are you certain you are not up to the challenge?”

  “I’d probably plant him a facer before all was said and done. No, I am happy to leave his lordship alone and hope for better things,” Kate said absently, her attention reverting to the search for the dark, handsome stranger.

  “Who are you looking for?” Celinda peered in the same direction as Kate.

  “That gentleman. The stranger I asked you about just now. Did you really not see him?” Had she imagined the man? “Where did he go?” she muttered.

  “I have no idea who you are talking about, cuz.” Celinda snapped her fan open, catching the attention of a gentleman across the room.

  “Why are you flirting with Bertie Symmons? We’ve known him since we were eight years old and he cried when his mama wouldn’t allow him to climb a tree.” Kate glared at the young man in question, the son of one of their neighbors in Somerset.

  “One has to flirt with old friends sometimes if one wants to dance badly enough.” Celinda touched the edge of the fan with her finger, snapped it closed, and smiled at Bertie, who hastily excused himself and headed toward them.

  “I’ve never wanted to dance quite that badly.” Kate sniffed and wiggled her toes in her new green satin slippers. Standing for so long during the early part of the Season took some getting used to. “I do wish I had an inkling of who I wanted to flirt with.”

  “As do I.” Celinda laughed. “I have no idea so far this Season. I’m just practicing on Bertie so I’ll remember how.”

  “Lady Celinda, Miss Locke.”

  Kate whirled around, coming face to face with Lady Hamilton and the handsome stranger she’d been looking for. Lord, but he looked even more attractive up close. He smiled charmingly, revealing white, even teeth in a wide mouth with sensual lips. Her heart stuttered.

  Celinda’s china blue eyes widened, a brilliant smile on her lips. She curtsied, and Kate followed suit, quite unable to take her gaze off the gentleman.

  “Ladies, good evening once more.” Lady Hamilton nodded, smiling first at one then the other of them. “May I introduce Lord Finley? He is recently returned from some five years in America.”

  Kate struggled to breathe. She snapped her fan open and plied it vigorously, hoping she wouldn’t swoon.

  “My lord, this is Lady Celinda Graham, Lord Ivor’s daughter. Miss Katherine Locke is her cousin. Her brother is Lord Ainsley.”

  Lord Finley bowed gracefully, coiled animal energy in the movement. “Lady Celinda, I am familiar with your family.” His large, deep blue eyes, the exact color of an early night sky, gleamed in the candlelight. “Miss Locke.” He bowed again then turned back to her cousin. “Might I beg the next dance, Lady Celinda?”

  “Of course, my lord.” Celinda cast her eyes down and shut her fan.

  Kate’s heart sank. He had chosen her cousin instead of her. How unfair when she had seen him first.

  “And the next after with you, Miss Locke, if you are not engaged?” His dark eyes seemed to pierce her, almost as though he knew her thoughts.

  “I would be honored, Lord Finley.” At least she would get to dance with him eventually.

  “Then that is settled.” Lady Hamilton gave a trilling laugh and, putting a hand on her arm, drew Kate a little away.

  “Shall we go make up the set, my lady?” Finley offered his arm, and Celinda grasped it as though it were a lifeline.

  “Thank you, my lord. I’d be delighted.”

  “Lady Celinda?” Bertie Symmons finally arrived, frowning to find Celinda firmly anchored to Lord Finley’s arm. “I thought…I mean…”

  “Oh, Bertie, Mr. Symmons, that is.” Celinda smiled smoothly as though nothing were amiss. “Lord Finley, may I present Mr. Symmons, an old acquaintance.” She continued to smile and nod in Kate’s direction. “Mr. Symmons, as I have just accepted a dance with Lord Finley, you must ask to stand up with Miss Locke.”

  She would murder her cousin before the evening was through. Not only was Bertie uninteresting, he was a horrible dance partner. Celinda would be made to pay. Still, she must put on a delighted face for Lord Finley to see. Kate smiled and looked expectantly at Bertie.

  “Would you like to dance, Kate?” He sounded as unsure as possible, and if Celinda had been the only one present, she would’ve glared and banished him to the refreshment room.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Symmons. I should be delighted.” She took his arm and followed Celinda and her delectable partner onto the dance floor. “If you step on my feet, Bertie, I shall kick you in the shins,” she whispered as they took their places in line. Let the martyrdom begin.

  * * * *

  “Shall we take this corner here?” Ainsley indicated a small square table for two drawn up cozily near the fire.

  “As you wish.” Marcus followed his friend, snaring a glass of wine from a footman stationed just outside the card room. “Bezique?” He sat with his back to the fire, the better to see Ainsley’s face during play.

  “Piquet, please? I’ve gone off Bezique recently.” Ainsley settled in the seat opposite. “That was all old Boyle wanted to play last weekend. As I’m wooing the old gentleman’s support for a vote coming up in a couple of weeks, I played it for four days running.”

  Marcus shrugged. “One’s as good as the other, as long as you lose.” He was a much better Bezique player than Piquet, but he felt luck was with him tonight, so it should not matter in the least. He twirled the stem of his glass, the rich burgundy wine glowing like a jewel in the firelight.

  “Grown cocky, have you?” Ainsley pulled the walnut card box, inlaid with a mother-of-pearl design, toward him. He opened it and fished out the two plainest decks. “I assume you have no affinity for flowers, Haversham?”

  Marcus waved a hand and chuckled, feigning a nonchalance he certainly didn’t feel. “Not at all. The ladies do enjoy a pretty deck, but I’ll take plain.” He grinned. “Unless the forget-me-nots will throw you off your game. Then by all means, use those.”

  Ainsley snorted. “I assure you, the decor makes no difference to me.”

  Marcus sipped his wine, trying to relax, as the waning figures of his bank account danced before his eyes. He had no business playing with Nathan—or anyone, for that matter. Better to spend his time chatting up the members of his club who’d recently approached him about an investment venture. It would take nearly all his capital, but with a little luck, he could reap the benefits in funds he desperately needed.

  Still, the promise of some quick money sang a siren song that drowned out the voice of reason. He’d lost a middling large sum to his friend last weekend, so he was due for a winning evening. Ainsley could afford to drop a couple thousand pounds and not even miss it. Who better to give it to than his best friend?

  Ainsley discarded the lower cards and shuffled with expert hands. The man was certainly no slouch when it came to cards, but Marcus had a feeling Fate was with him tonight.

  “My sister is rather annoyed at you.” Nathan finished shuffling and cut the cards, revealing a king of spades.

  “Your sister is forever annoyed at me.” Marcus waved away his cut, and his friend began to deal. “I’ve never understood why.” Kate Locke’s aversion to him had been instantaneous upon their first meeting seven years before when Ainsley had invited him to Somerset for a holiday. His younger sisters had been great fun. Only Katherine had taken him in dislike and given him the rough side of her tongue from that day to this. Marcus shook his head as he discarded five very bad cards and drew five even worse.

  “She told me it was because she thought you looked like a frog and would give her warts if you could.” Ainsley chuckled. “Carte blanche.”
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br />   “The devil you say!” Marcus stared at the cards Ainsley flashed him. Not a court card in the hand. Damn. He’d shake it off though. “Did you not inform her that toads give warts, not frogs?”

  “I did.” His friend laughed and made his discard. “To which she retorted, ‘Well, he’d still try his best to do it, whether he could or not.’”

  “God, she’s always been impossible. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen at the time.” He moved his cards about, trying to make something out of absolutely nothing. The memory of Kate Locke seven years ago, fresh-faced, pert, and more intelligent than any woman he’d met did nothing to help his play. She’d been wearing a blue frock that day, which seemed to intensify the rich auburn of her hair. Clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of bran over her petite nose had made her striking. Then she’d opened her mouth, and all her charms had vanished with the first of countless barbs aimed directly at him.

  “Try living with her.” Ainsley pored over his cards then caught Marcus’s eye.

  “Not for the Crown Jewels and enough blunt for a Grand Tour. “Lead with King of Clubs. One point.”

  “She’s got some quarrel with you about your sister at the moment. Carte blanche,” Ainsley began his declarations, which went on for quite some time. By the time he finished, he had ninety-four points.

  Marcus stared at the cards in his hand, his stomach turning the excellent burgundy to vinegar. “How the devil did you do that?”

  “I swear, luck of the draw.” Ainsley looked abashed, his face flushed with the excitement of the play. Apparently it was his friend’s lucky night, not his. “Quite the thrill, eh?”

  “Without even playing a card.” Marcus shook his head and drained his glass. Truly not his night.

  “Which I will do now.” His friend laid down a Jack of Clubs.

  “Two. What does your sister find exceptional about my sister? I don’t believe they have ever met. The girl just came out two weeks ago. Queen of Clubs. Three.” Marcus didn’t want to talk about Miss Locke or even think about her. Perhaps that was where this bad luck was springing from.