by Anne Gracie
“Thornton.” His arm shot out, and Thornton came to a grateful halt. James indicated the tall lady on the other side of the room. “Who is that lady?”
Thornton followed his gaze. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “She looks vaguely familiar, but . . .” He shook his head. “Mother”—he turned to his mother, who hadn’t relinquished her grip on his sleeve—“who is that young lady with Aunt Alice? The one in yellow.”
His mother snorted. “Some nobody that Alice has befriended. She claims the gel is her goddaughter, but I’ve never heard of her. Ignore her, Gerald—she’s not worth your time or attention. She comes from I know not where, I don’t know her people, she has no fortune that I can ascertain, and she’s no beauty. I’m very cross with Alice for bringing her along, but of course, you know Alice—she lives to vex me. Now come along. I want you to meet Lady Ledbury’s daughter, Lally.” She tugged on her son’s sleeve.
Thornton didn’t move. He stared, his expression intent. “I’m sure I’ve seen that girl before.”
“You can’t have,” his mother said impatiently. “She’s a complete nobody and new in town. Now come along, Gerald.” They moved off.
So, his tall dark lady was Thornton’s aunt Alice. James couldn’t take his eyes off her. If he’d had any expectations of an aunt of Thornton’s, particularly one who was a dowager countess, it would have been an older lady, a kindly old gray-haired dear.
Not . . . her.
* * *
* * *
Alice moved through the room with Lucy, nodding to this person and that, and offering brief greetings, but not really engaging in conversation. Alice knew many people here; Lucy knew no one. Then she noticed a small group of young ladies, some of whom she knew slightly. She led Lucy toward them. Lucy needed to make some friends her own age.
“Good evening.” A tall, grave-faced gentleman stepped into their path. Dressed in severe dark evening dress, the same as every other man in the room, there was, nevertheless, something about him. Perhaps it was his height or his broad shoulders, or maybe it was his unconscious air of command. Among the soft, pampered company, he stood out like an eagle among pigeons.
Alice didn’t know what to say. She was aware of thick dark hair cropped short; a bold, aristocratic nose, which looked as if it had been broken at least once; a firm chin and piercing gray eyes that bored into her. They were almost hypnotic.
His skin was tanned, as if he’d lived an outdoor life. It wasn’t at all a fashionable look. It made him look tough. Hard. Ungentlemanly.
And yet she found him disturbingly attractive.
She felt a blush rising. It stiffened her spine. She didn’t know this man, had never been introduced and didn’t like the way his eyes met hers without a trace of self-consciousness. She’d had enough of arrogant men to last a lifetime. She lifted her chin and met his gaze full on. She would not be intimidated.
His mouth quirked. His eyes darkened.
“Excuse me, please.” She waited for him to step aside.
He didn’t move, just watched her with a faint smile playing around his firm, well-shaped mouth.
She gave him a cold look and stepped pointedly around him. She was aware, as she walked away, of those gray eyes following her shamelessly. It was like a warm, unsettling touch.
She presented him with a straight spine in return.
“Who was that?” Lucy whispered.
“No idea. Whoever he is, he needs a lesson in manners.” She felt cross and ridiculously flustered. Those bold glances, that air of assurance, as if he had every right to accost her when they’d never even been introduced.
All these years she’d been invisible to men. Now, because she was widowed . . . Or was it the dress? Was it too revealing after all? She glanced down. It wasn’t. The neckline was restrained and discreet.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have worn her old dove-gray gown. Or one of her dusty blacks.
“He seemed to know you.”
“Well, I don’t know him.” She’d never seen him before in her life; she was sure of it. He was not the sort of man one forgot.
“Perhaps, but he obviously wants to know you.” Lucy glanced back, eyeing him curiously. “How is it that a man can be—well, he’s rugged more than handsome, and yet somehow he’s more attractive than the really handsome men here. He makes them look, I don’t know, pretty. And a bit useless.”
Alice gave her a sharp glance. Was Lucy interested in him? Young girls did often look to older men for a husband.
“A pity he’s so old,” Lucy finished.
“Old? He can’t be above forty,” Alice said crossly.
“Yes, as I said, ‘old.’ ” Lucy gave her a mischievous look. “Besides, he’s interested in you, not me.”
“Me? Nonsense!” Alice said briskly. “Now, let me introduce you to these girls.”
The girls were clustered together near the window, talking and laughing hilariously. Lord, had she ever been so young and carefree? And why were there so many young ladies at a supposedly small family party. Only two of the six were in any way related to the family, and they were both distant—second or third cousins.
Alice greeted the girls she knew, and after the various introductions had been made, she edged quietly back, so as not to inhibit them.
After a few minutes of initially tentative conversation, the girls started to relax. Then Lucy said something that made them all laugh, and after that they were all talking and laughing happily. Alice smiled to herself: their silly, lighthearted chatter made her feel positively ancient.
Several of the girls’ mothers were sitting at the side of the room, keeping a weather eye on their daughters while having a cozy chat. Should she join them? None was particularly a friend, but perhaps it was time to start making friends of her own, other than the ladies Thaddeus had instructed her to cultivate.
Not one of them had called after Thaddeus died.
Two older gentlemen approached the group of girls, flirting ponderously—no danger there. The other mothers didn’t give them more than a glance. Alice was pleased to see that while Lucy made no effort to put herself forward, going by the attention both gentlemen paid her, she was making a good impression.
It seemed the badly behaved Lucy really was a thing of the past.
Feeling thirsty, Alice signaled to a footman who was gliding through the crowd bearing a tray of gently fizzing glasses. He didn’t see her. She looked around for another footman and lifted her hand, but he, too, didn’t notice. Why was it that women of a certain age seemed to become invisible?
The chattering girls suddenly fell silent. Had Lucy made a mistake? Alice glanced around. All eyes were turned in her direction, and there was a sudden fluttering of fans and eyelashes. One girl gave a nervous giggle, hastily stifled. What on earth?
“Aunt Alice,” said a voice at her elbow.
She turned. “Oh, Gerald. Many happy returns of the day. Are you enjoying your party?” She glanced briefly at the tall man who stood at her nephew’s elbow. Him again.
“I’d like you to meet my former commanding officer, Colonel—Lord Tarrant. Tarrant, this is my aunt, the dowager Lady Charlton.”
The tall man bowed over Alice’s hand. “Delighted to meet you, my lady.”
“Colonel Lord Tarrant,” she murmured.
“Just Lord Tarrant,” he said. “I’m no longer a colonel. I’ve sold out. And you look far too young and pretty to be a dowager.” His gray gaze didn’t shift. She felt her cheeks warming.
Was he one of those—the kind of man who thought a widow was up for anything? She knew perfectly well she was neither young nor pretty.
“Allow me to fetch you a drink.” He lifted a finger—one finger!—and immediately two footmen glided up—two!—presenting her with a choice of ratafia, champagne or lemonade. Trying not to
feel aggrieved, she accepted a glass of lemonade and drank thirstily.
The girls behind her were still whispering and giggling.
Gerald leaned toward Alice and said quietly, “That girl you came in with—the girl in the golden gown—would I have met her somewhere?”
“I doubt it,” Alice said. The colonel’s intense regard was unsettling her. She wished he’d go away. “She’s only just come to London. Her name is Lucy Bamber, and she’s my goddaughter.”
Gerald hadn’t taken his eyes off Lucy. “Will you introduce us?”
She hesitated, recalling Almeria’s demand, but she could hardly refuse to introduce them when Gerald had specifically asked her. “Yes, of course. Lucy?” She beckoned.
Lucy turned and noticed Gerald, and her bright smile abruptly faded. For a split second Alice could have sworn there was a panicked look in her eyes, but before she could be sure of what she’d seen, Lucy was approaching with nothing more than an expression of mild inquiry.
The girlish whispering and giggling stopped. Looks were exchanged, and the small group of young ladies focused intently, like pointers scenting prey. Their mothers’ heads came up, and all conversation stopped.
Ohhh. Of course. These girls and their mothers were here for Gerald.
Feeling like a sparrow watched by a circle of cats, Alice introduced Lucy to her nephew, and he introduced her to his former colonel, Lord Tarrant. But it was clear that Gerald had eyes only for Lucy.
“Have you been in London long, Miss Bamber?” he asked.
“Not long.” Lucy plied her fan and gazed across the room, apparently uninterested.
“Have you seen many of the city sights yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Perhaps I could show you some of them—with Aunt Alice, of course, or some suitable companion.” Alice was surprised by his offer. Gerald never squired young ladies around. He couldn’t possibly be interested in Lucy, could he?
“Perhaps,” Lucy said vaguely. Her gaze wandered over the crowd.
“Are you interested in art? I’m told the Elgin Marbles are very popular.” Then, when Lucy didn’t respond, he added, “Or perhaps you prefer flowers. Kew Gardens has some remarkable specimens from all over the world.
“Mmm? Flowers? My godmother has flowers in her garden,” she said in a seen-one-flower-seen-them-all kind of voice.
Alice didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. On the one hand, she was relieved that Lucy was showing no interest in Gerald. But oh, she was being so naughty.
Gerald persisted. “Perhaps Astley’s Amphitheatre would be more to your taste. They put on some quite spectacular shows.”
Lucy gazed at something over to the right and didn’t answer.
“Miss Bamber? Did you hear me?” Gerald sounded annoyed. He was not used to young ladies ignoring him. Quite the contrary. “I asked you about Astley’s Amphitheatre.”
For a moment Lucy didn’t respond at all, then said in an awed voice, “That woman over there is wearing the largest turban I’ve ever seen in my life. I wonder how she makes it stay on.” All eyes except Gerald’s swiveled toward the lady with the enormous turban.
Gerald’s gaze didn’t shift from Lucy’s face. “You know, I have the oddest feeling that we’ve met before.”
Lucy sighed. “So many gentlemen use that line. It’s not very original.”
“No, I’m serious. I’m sure I’ve seen—”
“Have you met these ladies, Lord Thornbury?” Lucy turned and beckoned her erstwhile companions forward. They closed the gap in seconds, shoving and elbowing one another with genteel, ladylike determination.
“Thornton, it’s Lord Thornton,” Gerald began but quickly found himself surrounded by fluttering, chattering, bashful and flirtatious young ladies. Lucy slipped to the edge of the circle, looking pleased with herself, and began talking again to the two elderly gentlemen who’d been abandoned.
By sharing Gerald with her new friends, she’d made a good impression on them—and their mothers, Alice observed. It seems Lucy really wasn’t interested in lords. Not in Gerald, at least. That would please Almeria.
Only what on earth had got into her that she would behave in such an impudent and mischievous manner toward Gerald—who was, after all, the guest of honor? It verged on the insolent.
Over the bobbing heads of the eager debutantes, Gerald gave Alice and the tall colonel a hunted look.
Lord Tarrant laughed softly. “Ah, the perils of being young and eligible. Another lemonade, my lady? Or perhaps an ice?”
“Thank you, no.” Alice suddenly realized that she was more or less alone with this big, looming colonel. Former colonel. Lord Tarrant. He presented his arm and said, “Shall we take a turn around the room?”
She looked around for an excuse to escape, someone needing to be talked to, but there was nobody, not a single person looking in her direction. Even Lucy seemed happily occupied, chatting to the two elderly gentlemen and observing her new friends parading their charms to a harassed-looking Gerald.
Trapped, Alice glanced back up at her tall companion.
He looked amused. “No urgent appointment? Nobody needing your exclusive attention? Then, shall we?”
“Thank you,” she muttered and took his arm.
They strolled around the room.
“I understand you are a widow.”
She tensed. “Yes.”
“My condolences.”
Alice inclined her head in acknowledgement. She could hardly admit she was glad to be free of her husband, and it felt hypocritical to be accepting condolences.
They strolled on. “I knew your late husband slightly,” he said after a few minutes.
“Indeed?”
“Yes, at school.”
“Mmm.” She made a vague, polite, indifferent noise.
Another few minutes passed, then he said, “We were not contemporaries, of course. He was in his final year, and I was a small boy in my first year.”
“Mmm.”
“I was not an admirer.”
She had no intention of discussing her husband with anyone, let alone this big, unsettling stranger. If he wanted to fish for information, he would be disappointed. “The weather has been very pleasant lately,” she said. “It augurs well for the harvest.”
“Indeed. Are you interested in agricultural matters, Lady Charlton?”
“Not in the least.”
The smoky gray eyes glinted with amusement. “You grew up in the country, I understand. Whereabouts?”
“Worcestershire.”
“A pretty part of the country. I myself am from just outside Kenilworth in Warwickshire. Do you know it?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. She was being horridly uncivil, she knew. Normally she was quite good at keeping a conversation bubbling along. With any other man, she would be asking questions—men always liked to talk about themselves—and encouraging him to talk about his home or the harvest or his military career or his horses or whatever he was interested in, but she didn’t want to offer this man any encouragement.
What was it about him? Apart from the way he had initially accosted her, his manners had been unexceptional. She’d been prepared for an improper suggestion, or at least a hint. Instead he’d been all consideration.
But he unsettled her. The way he looked at her. And the way he refused to take a hint, apparently indifferent to her patent lack of interest in him or his conversation. And that look of . . . of amused understanding in his eyes, as if he knew what she was thinking. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Some men were so wrapped up in their own importance that they didn’t notice when a woman was bored or uninterested or even—she thought of Thaddeus—quietly furious. They just talked on, confident of their intrinsic fascination.
But this man wasn’t like that, she was sure
. He seemed perfectly aware that she was doing her best to freeze him out. And it seemed to amuse him. Which was very annoying.
She was also very aware of the warmth and strength of the arm on which she’d laid her gloved hand. Just to be polite. And that was irritating, too. She didn’t want to be aware of him. She just wanted him to go away.
Somehow he’s more attractive than the really handsome men here. It was true. She would feel much more comfortable with a useless, pretty man. This one . . . His mere physical presence unsettled her. As for those all-seeing gray eyes that kept capturing hers and making her forget where she was. She was too . . . too conscious of him.
They finished their second circumnavigation of the room, and she was determined it would be their last. Just as she was casting around for a reason to excuse herself, music began in the second reception room. She started. Almeria hadn’t mentioned any dancing. Where was Lucy?
Lucy had told Alice that she knew how to dance, but that she’d never been to a proper dance or a fashionable ball. Alice knew from her own experience that there was a wealth of difference between country dancing as it was done in the actual country and the way people danced country dances in society.
She scanned the room quickly. There was no sign of Lucy.
“Would you care to dance, my lady?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, no. I am here tonight en chaperone.”
“Ah, yes, the goddaughter who has so intrigued young Thornton. Looks like she’s joined the dancers in the other room. We’d better follow them in.” Before she could say a word, Alice found herself being propelled toward the second reception room, his hand lightly resting in the small of her back. “There she is, with your nephew,” Lord Tarrant murmured.
Alice made a small sound of dismay. Almeria would be furious.
Gerald and Lucy were on the dance floor, the dance quite lively, but their expressions told a different story. Lucy looked perfectly indifferent, even bored. Gerald was obviously frustrated.
“Miss Bamber doesn’t look as though she’s enjoying the dance,” Lord Tarrant said.
