The Debutante Is Mine

by Vivienne Lorret

  “Including your future husband,” he reminded. This time, he was able to set her apart from him, and she instantly shivered from cold. He shrugged out of his greatcoat and settled the heavy garment over her shoulders. It was still warm, and his scent rose up to fill her nostrils, filling her with a sense of comfort. “Come. I’ll walk you to your door.”

  They walked the stone path in silence, the weight of honor and expectation between them. Lilah was the first to speak.

  “I do not think that I will sleep at all tonight,” she said, facing him.

  The muted glow from the candle just beyond the door glass caught the heat in his gaze. Lifting a hand, he brushed her cheek softly with his fingertips.

  “Nor I.” Then, slipping that hand to the back of her neck, he lifted her hair free, letting it fan out over her shoulders. “I like the look of you, wearing my coat over your nightclothes.”

  She grinned and offered a small curtsy. “I shall tell that to Juliet’s modiste when she arrives tomorrow morning before calling hours.” She hesitated. “Speaking of which, do you think perhaps . . . ”

  She let her question trail off, hoping that he would issue a command for her to be at home for him. And she would let him know that she would consider receiving him, all the while hiding her eagerness.

  “I have business matters that I have been neglecting since my return to town,” he said instead, his brow lined with regret. “I never imagined that the aristocratic practice of calling hours could be something I would find so distracting and so tempting. And by the by, what you referred to as tomorrow morning is actually only a few hours from now.”

  Lilah sighed. “Juliet will likely murder me if my eyes are shadowed with bruises before the Corbett Ball in the evening.”

  “You will look lovely, of that I am certain,” he said, stepping near enough to gently grasp the lapels of his coat.

  Feeling wistful but not wanting to let on, she smiled up at him. “Knowing that you will not attend in order to confirm your claim, I will tell you in advance that I will be at my loveliest. It will be a pity that you will miss such an awe-inspiring sight.”

  Without warning, he tugged her close and kissed her once more, making her forget what she was saying.

  Before removing the warmth of his coat from her shoulders, he whispered, “Don’t dream of me, Lilah. I forbid you.”

  She caught sight of his smirk just before he turned away and strode down the path. “I will not, Mr. Marlowe. After all, it would be unfair to all the other gentlemen I have parading around in my dreams already.”

  The sound of his knowing laugh warmed her through. What an arrogant man.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “ ‘And as for the newest name to grace our humble pages, we are all wondering which party the mysterious Miss A— attended last evening,’ ” Juliet read, beaming over the edge of the morning’s Standard. “You see? Just as I said, your name is on everyone’s lips.”

  Lilah bit back a yawn, hoping that her efforts resembled a smile instead. She stood in her bedchamber upon a crate, her arms lifted and straining at her sides, as the modiste set about pinning her gown. “Miss A could be Miss Ashbury, Miss Amherst, or even Miss Ainsworth. I’m not so quick to suspect that my forgettable-ness has altered from one evening.”

  “Gossip travels swiftly, my dear,” Aunt Zinnia said from a chair near the hearth, a cup of tea waiting on the rosewood table beside her. “Be thankful it is in your favor.”

  “Indeed,” Juliet added, that one word holding the weight of experience, both favorable and censorious. “If horses fed upon gossip instead of hay, then we could all travel to the Continent and back before luncheon.”

  “Since we are on the topic, I wonder what Lord Thayne’s reaction was to the column in the Standard.” Aunt Zinnia offered a pointed glance in Juliet’s direction.

  Juliet smiled sweetly. “Choking on a bit of egg in the breakfast room, I hope.”

  “Marjorie and I were not pleased at the bargain you struck. And to involve Lilah?” She pursed her lips an instant before she exhaled her displeasure. “She already has quite enough to worry over.”

  Strangely enough, Lilah hadn’t worried at all this morning. Not even once. Likely it was because she was far too exhausted. Then again, her mind had been so agreeably engaged with memories from last night that she may not have had time to worry. “Actually, Aunt, I volunteered. Thayne was antagonizing her so much that I had to do something.”

  “Well, you certainly have no lack of bravery, much to your credit.”

  “And I have complete faith in Lilah,” Juliet interjected and then turned to the modiste gesturing to the pins in Lilah’s bodice. “Claire, perhaps we should maintain a little more mystery. We don’t want our efforts to be obvious—just a few hints here and there.”

  Thank goodness! If Lilah were to lift her arm during a quadrille, she would likely spill out. Then there would be no mystery, and gossip would soon turn ill favored. Of course, that was only if she were asked to dance. According to the letter she’d received from her mother this morning, it was next to impossible.

  “Be sure to thank my sister for all she’s done. And should you attend any balls, be sure to stand beside a girl with a bad complexion and poor posture. That should improve your prospects of finding a gentleman who is willing to dance with you.”

  Mother hadn’t meant to be awful. She simply spoke with her own brand of honesty, believing that her opinion and desire for perfection was universal. Yet even having come to this understanding over the years, Lilah still felt a twinge of sadness.

  Juliet surveyed the reinvented gown, tapping her fingertip against her mouth. “Now you need a signature, a statement, something that is unmistakably you, my dear Cousin. And I think I have the perfect thing.”

  Stepping over to the vanity, Juliet lifted up a small wooden box and carried it back. When she opened the latch, Lilah gasped. Dozens of pearls of all shades and sizes filled the cavity. Each one glowed, transforming the gray morning light into satiny spheres.

  Then, when her cousin pinched one in between her thumb and forefinger and raised it to her gown, Lilah suddenly understood the reason. “You cannot mean to use—no, I won’t allow you to waste such a beautiful treasure.”

  “And what use have I for them? As you know, Lord Granworth left me very wealthy indeed,” Juliet said matter-of-factly. “These pearls make me think only of you. So why shouldn’t they be yours?”

  Lilah wasn’t sure what to say. She still wasn’t used to her own reflection in the mirror. But at least she knew it was still her. “I don’t know. It just seems as if I’m misleading everyone, pretending that I have pearls of my own.”

  “You are the pearl. Remember that.”

  “Have you seen it, Marlowe?” Thayne barged into Jack’s study and slapped down a copy of a society newspaper. “Lady Granworth is a bold one, indeed. She must have had this entire charade planned even before our wager.”

  Jack brushed the paper aside. Beneath it, the ink smeared on the letter he’d been writing to his groundkeeper in Huntsford on the topic of the proper care for azaleas. “I’ve no desire to read about frippery and nonsense. As you see, I’m quite busy. Or perhaps you don’t know what an occupation looks like. I can give you an example. There are some men, you see, who sit at desks, much like this, quill in hand, ledgers open, a stack of letters to be read and answered . . . ”

  “And it’s all there, the curiosity about a certain Miss A,” Thayne continued as if he hadn’t heard Jack speak. “One can only assume that ‘Miss A’ is Juliet’s cousin, Miss . . . Miss . . . ”

  “Appleton?” At this, Jack took the paper by the folded edge and scanned the page.

  One mention of Lilah, and curiosity got the better of Jack. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d spent any time not thinking about her. Especially not after last night. He’d been so close to losing complete control that it frightened him. Her kiss, the soft, hungry sounds she’d made, and the way she’d surrender
ed kindled a primitive chant within him. Mine . . . mine . . . mine . . . He’d been tempted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out into the night with him.

  That was all his mind had been able to think of since then as well. He couldn’t sleep anymore. He had no appetite. His work was suffering. He had an unopened stack of letters from various men who farmed his many landholdings. He spent little time paying attention to negotiations in his investment endeavors. Earlier today, he’d handed over ten pounds to a wine merchant for a case of rotgut. And worse, he looked at the card in his pocket at least once every hour. He was turning into a buffoon.

  “Yes, that’s it—Miss Appleton,” Thayne said, with a level of bitterness in his tone that made the hackles on the back of Jack’s neck rise. “The ingénue who will doubtless make me feel guilty for keeping my house and forcing Juliet out of town.”

  Jack dropped the paper and stood, pressing his knuckles to the desk. “What makes you think that she won’t succeed? If there is already a measure of curiosity, then Miss Appleton may be on the path to becoming an Original.”

  As far as he was concerned, she already was. It was an odd notion to him that the haute ton considered themselves experts on who was the most original. After all, the lot of them behaved in the same manner and followed the same rules.

  Apparently, Thayne was too busy pacing in front of the desk to notice the note of warning in Jack’s tone. “She will not succeed because this is not the year for subtlety. Last year’s Original was all smiles and politeness. The ton quickly grew bored of her by the time her betrothal was announced. This year”—he pointed a finger to the ceiling—“is the year for audacity. The year for a man. Wolford is bold enough to cut a swath through the ton and leave them all gaping behind them.”

  At the mention of the betrothal of last year’s Original, Jack automatically placed a protective hand over the card in his pocket. When he realized what he’d done, he felt the flesh around his eyes tighten and his brow furrow.

  He should be glad, for Lilah’s sake. The marriage she needed was within her grasp. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a better solution. She shouldn’t have to marry to satisfy her father’s will. She should marry because it was her desire to do so.

  Wasn’t Jack always railing against the haute ton’s inane rules? Then why was he helping her follow them? Instead, he should be finding another solution.

  Yes! He sat down again, taking up a fresh page and jotting a note to his solicitor. He would have Mr. Quince conjure a way to study the will and see what could be done.

  “Tonight is the Corbett Ball. According to my mother, every notable will be in attendance. Therefore, if Wolford is to have a shot at becoming the Original, he must attend as well. The problem is, I’ve asked him, but he absolutely refuses. He claims to have been invited to view a private collection of antiquities at Ruthersfield’s, along with Dovermere and a handful of other collectors.”

  Again, Thayne managed to pique Jack’s interest. Dovermere was going to be absent from the Corbett Ball? Hmm . . . Jack had received an invitation to Corbett’s last week. He wondered if he could still find it.

  “Perhaps there might be a way to entice Wolford. You could always forbid him to go.” After all, Vale had used that tactic on Jack on Christmas Eve, when he’d handed him the card with Lilah’s name on it.

  “No, Marlowe, I absolutely forbid you to be intrigued.”

  Suddenly, Jack realized that he’d been using the same tactic on Lilah. He grinned and then wondered if it would yield a similar result.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Standing between two pilasters and slightly behind a potted palm, Lilah opened her dance card and smiled. Four names in various scrawls stared back at her. Four! Among those was Lord Ellery’s, and what’s more, he’d remembered her name. In fact, each gentleman had remembered. She could scarcely believe it.

  A little overwhelmed, she took a breath. Closing the card, she tucked it inside her elbow-length glove. Earlier, she’d worried that Juliet had planned to cover her with pearls. Yet that hadn’t been the case at all.

  This evening, Lilah’s hair was pinned in place with a pearl comb, her face powdered with pearl dust, and a single pearl sewn into the center of her bodice, anchored by delicate silver threading. Since her gown was ivory satin, the pearl was hardly noticeable. However, Juliet said that true beauty was never obvious. Which was an odd thing to hear from the most beautiful woman Lilah had ever seen. Nevertheless, the end result left Lilah somewhat relieved. She didn’t have to worry about feeling like a fraud. At least, not too much of one.

  “I do not see what all this fuss is about.” Lilah heard the words from a young woman passing by. When she saw that it was Miss Leeds—talking to Miss Ashbury, no less—she stilled and hoped they would not see her. “There is nothing at all uncommon about her.”

  Lilah cringed. The words struck her as similar to the worried thoughts inside her own mind. She only hoped that Miss Leeds wasn’t speaking about her. A part of her held onto doubt that this plan would work. Part believed she wasn’t pretty. Of course, the note she’d received from Mother today hadn’t helped either. This transformation was still new and fragile. She was still learning.

  She felt as if she were held together only by a fine silver web. One misstep, and she might begin to unravel.

  “And there is nothing remarkable in her wardrobe either,” Miss Ashbury remarked. “Of course, how can you improve such a plump figure?”

  “My father told me that they are hoping to lure her cousin to marry her. Can you imagine?” Miss Leeds giggled. “She’s so undesirable that even Lord Haggerty would have to be forced.”

  Lilah swallowed down a rise of bile up the back of her throat. They were speaking of her. And they knew about her father’s will. What they’d heard was not accurate—but it was close enough to ruin her chances. It was all too much. Her brief moment of euphoria sputtered out like a taper at the end of a night.

  “Oh, Miss Appleton,” Miss Ashbury began, lifting her hand to her mouth and affecting a look of innocence. “We didn’t see you there.”

  “Dear, you really should try to do something to draw attention to yourself,” Miss Leeds added with a smile.

  Lilah expected to feel small and worthless as one of her worries came to fruition. Instead, she was shocked by the amount of anger she felt. Not on her own behalf but for Juliet, who’d sacrificed her time and treasures for Lilah’s benefit. And perhaps there was a small amount of anger for herself because . . . well . . . how dare they try to belittle and demean her. Hadn’t she suffered enough of that at home?

  Abandoning the principle of grace in the face of adversity, she opened her mouth to offer a scathing response in return. Then, suddenly, another young woman came along and bumped into Miss Leeds, albeit gracefully, sort of like a carefully choreographed push.

  “Oh, do forgive me. I didn’t see you there,” said the young woman, who Lilah only now recognized as Lady Piper Laurent, the Earl of Dovermere’s eldest daughter. She and Lady Piper had met at the Duke of Vale’s Christmas party. What Lilah had not known at the time was how similar her coloring was to Jack’s. Like her half-brother, her hair was the shade of winter wheat, and her speckled brown eyes gleamed with challenge.

  “How dare—” Miss Leeds began in outrage before she turned to see who had bumped into her. Then, abruptly, the simpering began. “Oh! Think nothing of it, Lady Piper. We had merely paused for a moment. How fortunate for us that you happened along to join—”

  “How clever you are, Miss Leeds,” Lady Piper said, cutting her off, “to blend into the walls so well.”

  Miss Leeds’s lips parted as she glanced down at her gown and then to the ivory pilasters. Before she could comment, Lady Piper continued. “And Miss Ashbury, how sweet you look this evening. I believe my youngest sister has a gown just like that for one of her dolls.”

  Lady Piper grinned rather mischievously at Miss Leeds and Miss Ashbury and then slid a look to Lilah
. It became instantly apparent that Lady Piper had heard the exchange. A giggle escaped Lilah as she realized what was happening. Jack’s sister was quite clever and sly in her wit.

  Miss Leeds and Miss Ashbury squinted their eyes in unison.

  “What a pleasure it was to see you both again,” Lady Piper said to the pair, essentially dismissing them from her presence.

  As it appeared many guests were beginning to leave the great hall and traverse the golden-lit gallery toward the ballroom, neither Miss Leeds nor Miss Ashbury offered a comment. Instead, they turned on their heels and walked off in a huff. Battle lines had been drawn.

  “I cannot thank you enough, Lady Piper,” Lilah said. “I was quite at a loss for words. At least, any proper words.”

  “Please, you must call me Piper.” With an easy smile, she splayed her gloved fingers beneath her throat. “As the eldest girl of eight, I’m hardly ever at a loss for words. And most likely to my younger siblings’ regrets. Besides, this is my first official ball, and I want it to be fun, without any stuffy formality or odious persons.” She slid a perturbed glance to the retreating pair. “Father has been restricting my exposure to society through dinner parties alone. Though I believe the truth of the matter is that he finds balls rather dull and chooses only the invitations that appeal to him.”

  Lilah seconded the need for informality between them. “And I have the opposite problem. Last year my aunt typically accepted more than one invitation per night. The memory of that entire Season is now a blur of turbans and feathers.”

  “I hope to have such a memory,” she said with a laugh. Then, as her father neared their party by the potted palm, she raised her voice. “So far, all I’ve seen are a bunch of old men sitting around their drawing rooms, speaking of antiquities. Ghastly dull.”

  The Earl of Dovermere cleared his throat, and Piper’s gleam of mischief returned once more. “Sorry, Father, I meant to say elderly gentlemen instead of old. Forgive me?” She squeezed his forearm and rose up on her toes to peck him on the cheek.