A Wicked Way to Win an Earl

by Anna Bradley

  “You spoke too soon, Delia.” Lily studied her reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. “Never underestimate the possibility of a miracle.”

  * * *

  It would be a bloody miracle if he survived this evening.

  Alec surveyed the modest gathering. It was mostly neighbors from the surrounding estates and a few close friends who’d arrived early from London in anticipation of the ball. The evening seemed to be progressing much as he might expect. Archie was flirting with Mrs. Ashton. Lady Lisette and her mother were deeply engaged in a conversation with Lord and Lady Barrow, which suited Alec’s purposes perfectly. He didn’t want Lisette underfoot just now.

  Alec was impeccably dressed in severe black evening attire. He stood next to the fireplace, a snifter of brandy in his hand, looking every inch the elegant lord of the manor.

  He was ready to explode.

  He hadn’t spoken to Delia in three days, not since his disgraceful loss of control in the garden. He hadn’t touched her again, either, but he could still feel her warm, silky skin under his fingertips and taste the sweet honey of her mouth on his lips. It was as if his body had sprouted nerve endings he never knew he had, for the sole purpose of remembering what it felt like to touch and taste her. He couldn’t trust himself with her. He realized that now. But every moment he didn’t spend with her was another moment Robyn would. The past few days had proved that.

  Alec resisted the urge to tear at the tight cravat at his neck and glanced across the room. Robyn greeted a few friends and returned a few coquettish glances, but he was restless and distracted. His eyes kept darting toward the door. Alec watched Robyn’s restless pacing and took a deep swallow of brandy. His brother looked about as relaxed as a stallion ready to be taken to stud. With every day that passed, Robyn grew more enamored of Delia.

  She had to leave the house party. At once.

  A ripple of subdued excitement passed through the room. Alec turned toward the door, and at once he forgot about Robyn, his brandy, and his tight cravat. Delia had entered, her arm linked with Eleanor’s. Charlotte followed behind with Lily. The energy in the room changed subtly, the way it does when a captivating guest arrives. Heads turned. Alec saw more than one male gaze linger.

  Delia’s hair was piled high. Tiny dark blue silk flowers peeked out from among the thick wavy tendrils. Long curls escaped and brushed her smooth white shoulders. Her pale blue gown was not lavishly trimmed. It was not in the first stare of fashion, either, and compared to some of the other gowns in the room, the neckline was almost prudish. She wore no gems at all—only a small length of blue ribbon around her white throat. It was almost laughably quaint, but it made no difference. Alec drank her in greedily. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

  “Delia!” Robyn crossed the room to Delia’s side with an eagerness that drew the attention of the other guests. Alec stiffened as Robyn raised one of Delia’s white-gloved hands to his lips.

  He started across the room toward them. It had to be done, and it was best done quickly. “Good evening, Miss Somerset.” Alec bowed. His formal tone sliced through the intimacy. “You look very well this evening,” he said, perfunctorily enough.

  Delia curtsied and touched one hand self-consciously to the ribbon at her neck. “Good evening, my lord. Thank you.”

  “Mother asked you to escort her into dinner this evening, Robyn,” Alec said, turning to his brother. “I believe she hopes to avoid the attentions of Major Lytton.” He gestured across the room to his mother, who was speaking to an elderly gray-haired gentleman in uniform.

  “Of course.” Robyn paused to raise Delia’s hand slowly to his lips once more, then bowed and walked across the room to offer his arm to his mother.

  “May I take you in, Miss Somerset?” Alec offered her his arm.

  She looked up at him in surprise, but after a brief hesitation she accepted his arm, just as he’d known she would. She was far too gracious and well-bred to refuse his escort. They entered the dining room, where Alec seated her at the head of the table, then deliberately took his seat across from her. There was no seat to her right.

  How would she react when she realized Major Lytton, who was seated to her left, was as deaf as a post?

  Delia raised puzzled blue eyes to his and then glanced around. Lady Cecil and Lady Lisette were seated farther down the table near the countess, and both of them were glaring daggers at her. Delia’s face flushed with embarrassment. She dropped her gaze to the napkin in her lap and kept it there as the soup course was served.

  Alec did his best to ignore the way his chest tightened at her expression. He signaled to the footman, who stepped forward and filled their wineglasses. “Do any of your acquaintances in Surrey hunt, Miss Somerset? The major is an enthusiastic huntsman.”

  “I’m afraid not.” She still wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t care for hunting, my lord.”

  Major Lytton sprang into life. “What, a hunt?” he shouted. “Capital, Carlisle. Capital! I predict excellent sport this winter!”

  Delia jumped, startled; then her eyes narrowed on Alec. A tempest had begun to gather in those blue depths. Oddly, Alec was relieved. He could tolerate her anger, but not that look of hurt betrayal.

  The footman placed soup tureens in front of them. “You do ride?” he asked her, managing to sound just a little dubious.

  Delia had been about to sample the consommé, but she put down her soup spoon with a sharp metallic click. “Do you imagine I never learned to ride, my lord?” she asked. “Of course, in Surrey we have no Hyde Park, so perhaps you think there is no reason for ladies in the country to learn to ride at all? There is no Rotten Row. No parade of aristocrats in shiny curricles and fashionable gowns. No fine horses. No opportunity to see and be seen. Oh!” she added, as if she’d just understood him. “Perhaps that’s what you mean by hunting?”

  “Hunting in Hyde Park?” the major yelled, going red in the face. “On Rotten Row? Oh no, my dear. Dangerous, that. Someone could get hurt.” He looked at Delia reproachfully.

  “Quite right, Major.” Alec ignored Delia’s outburst, as if he’d also gone deaf. “Quite right.” He took a sip of his wine. “Did you bring your riding habit to Kent?” he asked, returning his attention to Delia, who looked as if she’d lost her appetite.

  “Yes, of course.” She sounded a bit deflated. “I’d hoped to ride through the grounds. They’re too large to see on foot.”

  “Are you a competent rider, Miss Somerset?”

  “Competent!” Major Lytton shouted indignantly before Delia could reply. “My dear Carlisle, every man in Her Majesty’s service can ride.”

  “Of course, Major. Forgive me. Miss Somerset?”

  She glanced at Major Lytton. “Perfectly competent, yes.”

  The major, absorbed by his consommé, had drifted back into obliviousness.

  “I’m riding out tomorrow morning to see one of the estate’s tenants,” Alec said. “It means riding over a large section of the western grounds. I would be pleased to have your company.”

  She blinked at him in surprise, but then an unguarded look of longing crossed her face. That strange, hollow feeling surged in his chest again, but he ruthlessly shoved it back. She’d set this game in motion, and she’d proved herself a worthy opponent. Now he was going to oblige her to play it, even if watching her face light with anticipation nearly stopped his breath, and even if he was suddenly appalled at the thought of coldly manipulating her.

  “Will Robyn accompany us? Or your sisters?”

  Alec’s face went rigid at the mention of Robyn’s name, and his attack of conscience evaporated. “Certainly. The entire party is welcome, though I doubt any of our friends will be in a state to rise early tomorrow morning for a hard ride.” He jerked his head toward the other end of the table.

  She followed his glance. Eleanor was absorbed in a conversation with Archie and
Robyn, helped along by liberal servings of wine. Charlotte and Lily had their heads together, giggling. It didn’t look as if any of them intended to retire early.

  “I must see my tenant tomorrow,” Alec said, “but if you’re afraid to go alone with me, then you can wait for another opportunity to see the grounds with the rest of the party.” His tone insinuated it was unlikely another such opportunity would arise. Unless he missed his mark, he doubted Delia Somerset thought of herself as afraid of anything.

  He shrugged as if her answer were of no consequence to him, but he watched her closely, surprised to find he was holding his breath.

  “Afraid, my lord? Why would I be afraid of you?”

  Alec’s eyes dropped to her lips. He could think of any number of reasons, but a lie jumped easily out of his mouth. “No reason whatsoever, unless you’re worried about propriety.” He emphasized the last word slightly, as if such a worry were absurdly prim.

  “There can be no impropriety in a ride around the grounds, surely.”

  Alec smiled grimly. She hadn’t any idea how spiteful the ton could be. Before they even returned from their ride tomorrow, Delia would be at the center of a storm of malicious gossip. Lady Lisette and her mother, Lady Cecil, would be more than happy to stir up a scandal, especially after the seating arrangements at dinner this evening. Delia would be on her way back to Surrey as early as the day after tomorrow.

  Alec clenched his fists and tried to ignore the sharp stab of anguish he felt every time he imagined her exposed to the derision of the ton. It was better this way. It would hurt her to be sneered at, but in the end it was better for her, too. She and Lily didn’t belong here.

  “I imagine you’re knowledgeable about the estate and the countryside, and I should be glad to learn something about them. You are a competent guide, my lord?”

  “More than competent, I assure you, Miss Somerset.”

  “Competent!” Major Lytton bellowed, catching only the last word of the conversation. “Oh yes, miss. Very competent. Carlisle knows his way about. You could not be in better hands, miss. No better hands than Carlisle’s.”

  “Thank you, Major.” Alec raised his glass to Miss Somerset. “Thank you very much indeed.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At last the countess rose from the table and signaled the other ladies to retire. The endless dinner was over. Delia felt like an inmate at Newgate who’d been released into the sunshine after a prolonged incarceration. Odd, but as interminable as the dinner was, she didn’t think she’d eaten much of anything.

  There had been soup. Had she tasted it?

  Alec must be mad to seat her at the head of the table. And Major Lytton! The poor major was likely even now wondering about the date of the fictional fox hunt this winter.

  “Delia!” Lily caught up to her at the entrance to the drawing room, Ellie and Charlotte right behind her, and caught Delia’s arm. “My goodness, Delia, however did you end up at the head of the table?”

  “Next to Major Lytton, no less.” Charlotte gave Delia a sympathetic look. “The last time I was seated next to him, I was dyspeptic for a week. The shouting, you know.”

  “It does quite put one off their appetite,” Eleanor said. “It’s very tiresome of Alec to seat you so far away. What could he be thinking?”

  Delia surveyed the four curious faces surrounding her and shrugged helplessly. She was as mystified as they were, but she was sure it hadn’t been an accident. Perhaps it was the next step in a complicated seduction that involved kissing her in a garden, and then ignoring her for three days. For all she knew, that was how rakes seduced young ladies.

  “Tiresome, to say the least,” Charlotte said. “At worst, it’s a serious breach in etiquette. I overheard Lady Lisette . . .” She stopped speaking and darted a quick glance around them. “I overheard Lady Lisette and her mother talking,” she continued breathlessly, her voice lowered. The four heads surrounding her leaned closer. “They were quite angry to see Delia seated alone at the head of the table with Alec.”

  “We weren’t alone,” Delia protested. “Major Lytton—”

  “Is as deaf as a teapot,” Eleanor interrupted. “You can’t have failed to notice he hears only two words out of ten, Delia.”

  “Well, no. I did notice. I was so startled at one point I nearly jumped out of my chair and into my soup.”

  Charlotte tittered. “Yes, well, it would have been quieter in your soup dish. But now Lady Lisette and her mother are frothing and spitting like two wet cats.”

  “Why should they be?” Lily asked. “Did one of them wish to sit next to Major Lytton and swim in their soup and become dyspeptic?” For the sake of economy, Lily threw it all together in one breath.

  “Because Alec escorted Delia into dinner and then seated her at the head of the table when her rank demands she be seated further down,” Charlotte whispered. “He should have escorted Lady Lisette.”

  Lily gave a dainty sniff. “Yes, of course that’s so, but this is a casual dinner with friends, is it not? It seems an awful fuss over nothing.”

  “Lady Cecil and Lady Lisette are very concerned with propriety, especially when it comes to rank. Even more so when the young lady moved to the head of the table looks like Delia.” Charlotte snickered. “Well, that, and because they enjoy being enraged. They’re both very good at righteous indignation.”

  “They are,” Eleanor said. “It makes the prospect of their joining the family pleasant indeed.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “In some ways it’s a good match. In terms of fortune and social connection.”

  Eleanor frowned. “But not in terms of temperament.”

  Charlotte’s face looked grim. “Do you think Alec cares about that?”

  “He used to care about a great many things,” Eleanor said. “But I suppose if he’s foolish enough to care only for fortune and the opinion of the ton, then he deserves to marry Lady Lisette and spend the rest of his life being driven mad by her, for that’s what will happen.”

  “Shhh! Mother is coming,” Charlotte hissed. “And, oh Lord, look what she’s dragging in her wake.” Lady Carlisle had started across the room. Lady Cecil and her daughter followed, looking like two enraged ships battling choppy water in the channel.

  “This is all very provoking!” Eleanor whispered. “I can’t imagine what came over Alec tonight.”

  There was no time to discuss it, because the countess and her two seething vessels had arrived in port. “Good evening, girls,” Lady Carlisle said with a smile. “Miss Somerset, Miss Lily, Lady Cecil wishes to have a word. She tells me she remembers your mother.”

  Not with fondness, if one could judge by the sour expression on Lady Cecil’s face. At one time Lady Cecil must have been quite pretty, but her face had long since settled into lines of petulant dissatisfaction.

  Delia dipped into a polite curtsy, and Lily did the same. Lady Cecil squinted at Delia for longer than was polite. She had small brown eyes set closely together, which unfortunately exaggerated the squint. She peered at Delia, and she peered at Lily, and then she peered at Delia again.

  Finally, Lady Cecil returned the curtsy with a very brief one. Lady Lisette followed her mother’s lead with a shallow curtsy of her own.

  “Miss Somerset,” Lady Cecil said with icy politeness. “I do remember your mother, Lady Millicent Chase. Quite well, in fact. Indeed, I think everyone remembers her, though she hasn’t shown her face in London for years.”

  Delia stiffened. Beside her, Lily gasped. For one horrible moment Delia felt numb, her mind a blank, but then a cleansing anger flooded through her. “My mother found London tedious, my lady. She chose to spend as little time as possible among the ton. I believe she found the endless round of trivial social engagements tedious, as well.”

  She found people like you tedious, Lady Cecil.

  Lady Lisette tossed her head. “You d
on’t seem to share your mother’s opinion on that subject. My impression is you were quite captivated by the ton at dinner.” Underneath her saccharine tone her voice throbbed with venom.

  “Yes, Delia,” Ellie drawled with mock censure. “You must stop monopolizing Major Lytton in that selfish way.”

  Charlotte made a strangled sound, which she rapidly turned into a cough. She cleared her throat. “You can’t blame Delia, Eleanor. Many young ladies become distracted when they dine with Major Lytton.”

  Ellie turned away, as if to rearrange the skirts of her gown, but Delia saw her bite her lip, and her shoulders were shaking.

  Lady Lisette scowled at Delia. “It was not Major Lytton who distracted Miss Somerset.”

  Delia opened her mouth to reply when Lily spoke up. “Lady Carlisle,” she asked, ignoring Lady Lisette, “will there be any dancing this evening?”

  “Perhaps there will be.” The countess smiled. “Most of the party here tonight hasn’t yet seen the pleasure gardens, and I find I’m eager to show them off.”

  “The gardens are lovely, Mama.” Eleanor squeezed her mother’s hand.

  Charlotte stepped forward and kissed Lady Carlisle’s cheek. “They’re beautiful, Mama. Thank you for them.”

  The countess glowed with pleasure. “Rylands, please have the footmen remove the screens.” She laughed and clapped her hands together with anticipation as the servants began to move the screens to the side of the room.

  Delia forgot all about Lady Lisette and her enraged mother and stared at Lady Carlisle. Her throat closed with emotion as she watched Lady Carlisle’s face transform with pleasure.

  She looks years younger when she smiles.

  The ladies all gathered into an excited, chattering knot in the middle of the drawing room as the small army of footmen slid the screens aside. Every head was turned toward the glass doors, and a collective gasp went up as the last screen was removed.

  There was a brief astonished silence, then a mighty rustle of silk as all the ladies moved en masse toward the terrace doors, jostling one another out of the way in their eagerness.