Lady Dearborn’s eyes grew wide. “A bluestocking?”
Elise raised her chin. “Yes, my lady. I am afraid that is what I am.”
To Elise’s surprise, the woman actually chuckled. “And your father intends to marry you off?”
Elise winced at the forthright question. “I am afraid that is his plan.”
“I sense you are not in agreement with his plan.” Lady Dearborn’s eyes shifted and she looked over Elise’s shoulder. “Ah, good evening, St. George.”
A young man stepped into view. He was tall, almost a foot over Elise’s five feet four inches. His reddish brown hair brushed his forehead and teased the edge of his cravat at the back of his neck. Although he directed his question to Lady Dearborn, his deep blue eyes regarded Elise. “May I have the pleasure of an introduction, Lady Dearborn?”
“Of course, my dear. Lady Elise Smith, eldest daughter of Lord Pomeroy, may I present to you, Lord Simon, Viscount St. George.”
Elise curtsied and St. George bowed. “May I add my name to your dance card, my lady?”
Flustered at being asked to dance so soon when she was fully expecting to hide behind furniture all evening, she fumbled until St. George caught the card dangling from her wrist and quickly added his name. By this time she was flushed and remembered precisely why she hated these events. She always felt out of place.
***
Simon tried not to grin at Lady Elise’s obvious agitation. He’d never seen her before and was curious, since she was apparently several years out of the schoolroom. Beautiful was a fitting word, although her face also showed strength and intelligence. Her chestnut brown hair had been drawn back, with curls already escaping the intricate style.
Warm hazel eyes revealed poorly hidden annoyance. This was a woman who was not in her usual environment and she did not like it. Curiosity turned to intrigue. Although Simon had no interest in marriageable ladies, since he had no intention of ever marrying himself, something about this woman called to him to know more.
Giving her time to compose herself, Simon turned to Lady Dearborn. “My lady, you are looking splendid, as usual.”
“Don’t turn your charm on me, dear boy. Save it for the young ladies.” Her slight blush belied her words. Simon had found ladies liked compliments, no matter how old they were. It was a trait that made him quite popular with the female set.
“Are you new to London, Lady Elise? I am acquainted with your sisters.” Now that she had stopped fussing with the dance card, he turned his attention to her.
“Not new to London, but certainly new to these types of events.” She waved her hand around, smacking Lord Nettleson, who stood behind her, in the arm with her fan. “Oh, please forgive me, my lord.”
The man had walked up behind her, most likely looking for an introduction, as well. Nettleson bowed. “No forgiveness needed, my lady.” He bowed to Lady Dearborn. “May I beg an introduction to your lovely companion?”
And so it began. Before the orchestra played its first note, Lady Elise had several names written on her dance card. Simon refused to relinquish his spot next to her, though, as the men came and went. A few lingered, but he saw no reason to move on since his was the first dance of the evening. Which he hoped was a waltz.
As luck would have it, the first dance was a country reel, hardly giving him the opportunity to discover why Lady Elise did not usually attend these events and how she came to be here tonight.
It was a question he asked of himself many times. Since balls, assemblies, routs, and the like were known to be the hunting ground for husbands, one would think he would stay far away. But he actually enjoyed these affairs. Dodging marriage-minded mamas had become a game with him. But rarely did he meet a woman who actually made him want to know her. Not just to dance and banter with, but learn about her, the woman.
Good grief, next he would be spouting philosophy, or worse yet, writing bad poetry. He extended his hand. “My lady, I believe this is our dance.”
She took his hand, but instead of tucking it under his arm, she continued to cling to it. They joined the line of dancers and faced each other. Before the music began, she leaned toward him and whispered, “It has been quite some time since I danced, my lord. I am terribly afraid I will make a muck of it.”
The steps of country reels could be quite intricate, so he understood her anxiety. “’Tis amazing how these things come back to you when needed. However I will help you, so no worries.”
Seldom had he been so wrong about something. The music began, and after only a few minutes, it was quite obvious not only was Lady Elise making a muck of it, she was confusing those next to them on either side. Curious glances in their direction turned to tightened lips and sotto voice comments as the dance continued, and Lady Elise stumbled her way through it.
After several more minutes of watching his partner suffer, he took matters into his own hands. Once again they came together and joined hands, but instead of walking in a circle, he tugged her away from the line and practically dragged her toward the French doors. She giggled as they wove their way through the crowd. Not the silly, high-pitched giggle of the young debutants, but a rich, deep sound that went straight to his cock.
Once they were outside, she leaned against the balustrade and, clutching her middle, released a full-throated laugh. Unable to resist, he joined her until they were both wiping tears from their eyes.
“That was terrible,” she gulped, still trying to catch her breath.
Who was this woman with the ability to laugh at herself? There wasn’t one debutante he could think of who would not have collapsed into a fit of tears and hysteria if that had happened to her on the dance floor. “You were quite serious when you said it had been a while since you danced.”
“Yes. Indeed.” She stood upright and pushed away from the balustrade. “I apologize for embarrassing you, my lord.”
“No apology needed. You have given me the best laugh of the month—perhaps the year.” He extended his arm. “How about a stroll in the garden?”
“Yes. I think I can manage that since I’ve been walking for a number of years now.” She took his arm and they made their way down the steps and into the gas-lit garden. She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of flowers after rain.”
“And we have had enough of that lately.” Hell, he did not want to discuss the weather with this unique woman. “Why is it you have not been in Society for some time?” He imagined family deaths and illnesses.
“Polite society would be shocked, and I should probably not tell you this, but I am a bluestocking.” She lowered her voice and glanced from side to side, even though there was no one else about.
He found her delightful and himself enchanted.
“Through and through. A committed spinster and a lover of books, intellectual gatherings, and the museums.” She smiled. “There you have it. Lady Elise Smith with all her foils and foibles.”
He stopped and turned her toward him. Reaching out, he tucked a curl behind her ear. “Not foils and foibles to my way of thinking.” Before he could do something stupid, since they’d only just met, he resumed their walk. “So why is it you are here tonight? Is it not the social whirl where ladies attempt to snare husbands?”
She let out a deep sigh. “Papa.”
“What?”
Lady Elise moved them toward a stone bench under an oak tree. He sat alongside her, feeling the warmth of her body next to him, but missing the contact of her arm nestled in his. “Papa has always allowed me my freedom and never questioned my decision to not marry. For some ungodly reason, he decided quite recently that unless I marry, he would not consider offers from gentlemen for my two younger sisters.”
His brows rose. “Not well done of him, I’m afraid.”
“Indeed. You see, our mother passed away when I was ten years and my sisters were six and five. I’ve been the only mother they’ve known since them. Papa knew the best way to have me agree to his plan was to threaten my sisters’ happiness.�
� She shook her head, the curls at her temples dancing. “So I agreed to attend social functions with the intention of finding a husband.”
He grinned. “A change of heart?”
“No.” Her eyes grew wide and she drew back, looking as though he’d asked her to dance another country reel. “Not at all. I do not want a husband. Ever. From what I’ve seen, they direct their wives’ lives, still maintain their own freedom, and a woman must bear it all with a smile.”
“So I take it your plan is to confuse and cripple every dance partner you have so no one will offer for you?” He grinned, unable to help how easy it was to do so in her company.
She tapped her finger on her chin, pretending to consider it. “That would be a good idea, but no.” She glanced sideways at him, a devilish smile on her lovely face. “What I have decided is to avoid notice by spending time at balls hiding behind potted plants and taking a number of breaks in the ladies’ retiring room.”
“No. It won’t work.”
She eyed him with raised eyebrows. “Why not?”
He touched her cheek. So soft. “You are too beautiful to hide behind anything.”
Lady Elise stilled, and then a slight blush rose from her neckline to her hairline. Had no one ever told her of her arresting appeal? Did she not have a mirror in her bedchamber? No woman who looked like her could avoid men. In fact, were she to dress in ashes and sackcloth, he doubted she would go unnoticed.
“Thank you for your kind words, my lord. But that is still my plan.” She shrugged. “I have no other.”
“Please call me Simon. ‘Tis my given name and my friends use it.” He took her hand in his. “I hope we can be friends.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Only friends.”
Friends it would have to be. Although he’d felt a pull toward Lady Elise from the time he’d first laid eyes on her, he also was not interested in marriage. If not the wedded state, one did not have any other type of relationship with a gently reared woman, except friendship. “Yes. Agreed. You see I have been dodging the marriage-minded mamas of the ton for a few years myself. I know how to hold their darling daughters at arm’s length. I could give you some tips and be your cohort in crime, as it were.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I love a challenge,” he gave her a wink, “and keeping away the hordes of men who will descend upon you is a true test of my abilities.”
Chapter Two
Elise drew on her gloves and made her way downstairs. Last night’s event had turned out quite well. She had been forced to accept more dances with gentlemen who had requested them and found after the first few she’d remembered most of the steps. She did stumble on occasion but felt she had acquitted herself nicely.
Otherwise, Simon had kept her occupied with walks in the garden and a waltz. Which had disturbed her more than she would have liked. Although she knew the steps of that dance, she’d never engaged in it with another person besides her sisters or their dance master, who was old and pudgy.
When Simon had drawn her into his arms, she immediately felt odd, nothing like herself. His warm hand on her lower back, as he moved her around the floor, seemed to burn right through to her skin. For as lively and chatty she had been with him up until then, she found herself unable to do more than stare at him.
At one point as their eyes locked, something flickered in his expression that had her wishing they could take another cooling stroll in the garden. Her stomach did strange things, and she felt the need to press closer to him. During a turn he did pull her nearer and she almost lost her breath. He’d grinned.
Once the dance had ended, he escorted her back to Lady Dearborn but stayed by her side. A few more men came and went, but Simon never budged. He was funny and enjoyed pointing out the ridiculous to her. A woman’s turban with a stuffed bird nesting on it, Lord Mathison’s cane with the head of a lion at the top, Lord Walton who still clung to his much out-of-date wig. When they were speaking with others, he would lean in and whisper something about them that had her biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud.
The man was outrageous.
Once Simon left, mentioning a meeting at his club, she’d sent a message to Papa that she was suffering from a megrim, and requested he send for the carriage to return her home. It seemed once her cohort had left, the fun at the ball had left with him. She arrived home hours before her sisters.
Simon had suggested a ride in Hyde Park today. He said if other men thought he had a claim on her, some of them would back off. She certainly hoped so. She’d been dismayed to find four large bouquets of flowers with her name on them when she’d arrived for breakfast. Papa beamed, and she felt the muscles in her stomach tighten.
Simon’s plan had better work.
If she could get through the Season with no one approaching Papa with an offer, she might convince him she was truly unmarriageable. He would stop this nonsense and allow her sisters to find husbands. But for now she would enjoy a ride in the park with someone by whom she did not need to feel threatened. Simon had absolutely no interest in marriage, so they were perfectly partnered.
The day was warm and lovely, perfect for a ride. Simon, standing at the entrance hall waiting on her, dressed in tan breeches, Hessian boots, a dark blue jacket, and starched cravat, did strange things to parts of her body to which she normally only gave a passing thought. She shook her head. That was silly. This was Simon, her cohort in crime. The man scaring off other men so she could go through the Season without anyone troubling her with an offer of marriage.
He had arrived in a lovely gig, just large enough for the two of them. Since she was past the age of needing constant supervision, this sort of vehicle was fine, especially since it was open. Elise unfurled her parasol and rested it on her shoulder and spun it around, grinning. She had always eschewed any type of courting but found it could be quite pleasant riding along the park path with a handsome man at her side.
However, it was important to keep reminding herself that nothing was more important than her independence. Years of taking care of her family, making decisions, and following her own path for happiness was ingrained in her. She wanted a life of freedom and intellectual pursuits. She would leave the bending to a husband’s wishes, and producing an heir and a spare, to her sisters and instead take on the role of the doting aunt.
But there was no reason whatsoever that she could not enjoy the attention she was receiving from St. George. Courting with no expectations. Perfect.
“You look like the cat that stole the cream.” He grinned at her, his reddish brown curls blowing against his forehead in the soft breeze.
“Do I now?” She smiled and dipped her head, realizing she was practically flirting. Good lord, would she be batting her eyelashes next? She had to rein herself in and remind her fluttering heart this was all pretend. Which was precisely what she wanted.
“I was just thinking how pleasant it could be having a gentleman’s company and not having to worry about him eyeing me up to be his brood mare.”
Simon burst out laughing, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. “Elise, you have a way with words, I must say that.”
“Well, ‘tis true. Most men would never allow themselves to be leg-shackled if they didn’t feel the responsibility to their title.” She studied him. “By the way, why is it you are so against marriage? Don’t you have a title to secure?”
“No. I have a title, of course, Viscount St. George, but my younger brother has a son. He is only two years old—my nephew, not my brother—so that that gives me two males to inherit should I leave this earth prematurely.”
Although he jested, a sudden wave of sadness washed over her at the idea of Simon no longer around to tease her, be her partner, and suffer though other dances with her. She pushed that melancholy thought away as nonsense. After all, they’d only just met, and she barely knew the man.
“That is interesting. I eschew marriage because I don’t want to lose my freedom and bow to a man�
�s wishes. Since men have all the power and control, why are you satisfied in having your brother and nephew inherit?”
He shrugged, but Elise got a glimpse of his eyes before he turned his head, where she saw pain. Something had happened to put him off marriage. “No particular reason. Maybe I prefer to not answer to a wife.”
Accepting his answer was probably the wisest thing to do. Instead of further questioning, she nodded to three ladies who were riding in a landau alongside them. One of the women waved her hand. “Oh, Lord St. George, I hoped to speak with you. Can you pull over?”
“That would be a bit difficult, Lady Townsend. Perhaps I can call at your home?”
“Yes, wonderful, my lord. I will expect you tomorrow. My calling hours are from three to five.” She gave another wave and her driver pulled ahead of them.
Simon ran his finger around the inside of his cravat. “Will you be available tomorrow at three o’clock?”
Elise gave him a half-smile. “Yes, I can be. By any chance will you be escorting me to Lady Townsend’s home?”
He snapped the reins. “I knew from the very first that you were a very bright woman, Elise.”
***
Simon saw Elise up the steps to her townhome and hurried back down to his gig. It had been quite some time since he’d enjoyed himself so much with a young lady. This young lady had no expectations of marriage offers or plans to conspire to have them caught in a compromising situation to force his hand. He could enjoy her company without worry.
And enjoy her company, he did. Elise was certainly easy to look at and fun at the same time. He could tease her without shocked indrawn breaths, blushing faces, or tears. It was a rare woman who could laugh at herself. He smiled as he drove away, actually looking forward to calling on Lady Townsend the next afternoon.
As long as he had Elise by his side to avoid Lady Townsend’s desperate-for-a-husband daughter, Miss Abbott. He knew that had been behind Lady Townsend wanting to speak with him, hence the afternoon call. She’d been trying for over a year to push the two of them together. Even if he’d been in the market for a wife—thank you, no—Miss Abbott would never be his choice.
For the Love of the Viscount (The Noble Hearts Series Book 1) Page 2
