Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “The cats I’ve known over the years never struck me as being malleable and complacent enough to allow something to be placed on their heads, much less in their paws.”

  “You’re probably right. I suppose I’ll have to settle for using my imagination when it comes to dressing Henry in anything other than what he already wears.”

  Barrington lowered his brow. “Your cat wears clothing?”

  She sputtered a laugh and then covered her mouth with her hand. “No. But he does wear fur, you know.”

  “Good point. I’m sure he’d get quite cold in winter otherwise.”

  “Indeed.”

  She stumbled and he pulled her close. But only for a moment. Any more than that and the whole room full of attendees would murmur and stare. Barrington stepped back to an acceptable distance.

  “Pardon me.” She glanced up, her gaze resting on his. Those eyes… so incredible in color and surrounded by long lashes.

  “For what, may I ask?”

  She looked down again to her slippers. “I’m afraid I’m rather clumsy.”

  “Nonsense. You dance beautifully.” She did seem a trifle unused to the steps, but of course, he would never make comment. Surely she’d been brought up learning to dance, as all of his peers had.

  “Now you’re just being kind.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If I’m being kind, it’s only a natural inclination to your sweet disposition.”

  An attractive tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Radcliff.”

  Barrington stared at her lips as she spoke. He couldn’t help it. Their fullness rose and fell with each syllable, alternately exposing and covering her tongue as if playing a game of hide and seek.

  Miss Fleming tilted her head and blinked as if waiting for something.

  Waiting… What was she—? Oh. “You are quite welcome.”

  She shifted her gaze to the left and then right. Had he said something inappropriate so she was choosing not to engage him further? Barrington tried to recall their short conversation. Nothing stood out as being off-putting or rude. What could it be?

  Someone tapped his shoulder. Who would have the gall to interrupt a dance when—? He whipped his head around to see… Lord Lofton?

  With a chuckle, the earl indicated the area from which Barrington had collected Miss Fleming. “Since the dance number is over, we thought perhaps you might join us in refreshment.”

  Over? What in the—? Barrington glanced about the room. He and his Miss Fleming were the only ones still dancing. A glance down showed him that his feet were indeed still moving. Stop that at once! He paused and swallowed hard. Only then did he notice the absence of music and people grinning at him as they passed by.

  Good heavens. I’m losing my faculties.

  Miss Fleming bit her lip and her face reddened. The color spread to her neck and all the way down to her—

  He snapped his chin up. You can’t stare at a woman there. Especially not in public! “P-pardon me, Miss Fleming. W-would you care for some refreshment?” Good gracious! He sounded like a bumbling buffoon.

  She gently extracted her hand from his and placed it on his arm. “That would be quite lovely. Thank you.”

  I hadn’t even let go of her hand yet. Barrington’s legs were as quivery as pudding when they made their way from the ballroom floor. What was happening to him? The tiny wisp of a girl brought him practically to his knees.

  Lord and Lady Lofton preceded them. The latter peeked over her shoulder at Miss Fleming and then giggled. Barrington wasn’t brave enough to look at his partner, but was fairly certain her polite cough covered a tiny laugh as well.

  Oh the horror.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cecilia could only imagine how livid Mama would be if she discovered Cecilia’s whereabouts. Papa, bless his heart, had told Mama that he had need of Cecilia in the stables for the whole evening. To make the ruse believable, he was to stay outside until such time as Cecilia was home and changed back into her normal attire before they returned to the cottage.

  Cecilia smoothed her skirt over her knees. Her hands had a slight tremble. Nervousness warred with excitement over being at the dance. So many people. And so loud. For someone used to a quieter, simpler life, it was a bit overwhelming. And then there was Mr. Radcliff. Handsome, charming, sweet Mr. Radcliff. She let out a breath. Thank goodness he had asked her to dance. She’d been certain, despite Amelia’s assurances otherwise, that no one would ask.

  Conrad had been engaged in conversation with a man to his right, and Amelia had been speaking to a woman standing near. That had left Cecilia sitting on her seat, glancing about the room while trying to appear as if she wasn’t. She hadn’t wanted to appear the novice, as if she knew nothing of such events. Everyone else seemed at ease, not peering around furtively, hoping to fit in.

  While her focus had been on the other attendees, Cecilia had heard a deep voice. His voice. As her gaze had locked with his, her heart had drummed a rapid beat, crazily hopping about in her chest.

  They’d danced, his warm hand wrapped around hers. She’d tried to answer his questions intelligently, but hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than keeping her balance. Despite her concentration, she’d stumbled anyway. If he’d thought her clumsy, though, he’d not indicated as such.

  So sweet. His inattention to the end of the dance was endearing as well. Had he truly been so focused on her that he’d not noticed? Surely not. She would be only one of many ladies he’d dance with tonight. It was highly possible Mr. Radcliff was merely being kind to her since they’d recently met.

  “Miss Fleming? Would you care for some?” The man in question stood before her, smiling.

  “Care for…?” Another dance? An embrace? To hold hands? Certainly. Cecilia, stop daydreaming!

  He peered down to the object in his hand. “Some punch?”

  “Ah… thank you. That would be wonderful.” I must appear daft. She reached out and took the glass, careful not to tip it. Wouldn’t that be lovely if she doused her lavender gown with bright yellow liquid? Then she could be assured of not receiving another dance invitation from Mr. Radcliff.

  Wait. Amelia had mentioned she might be asked by other gentlemen to dance as well. And if so, she must accept. But what if it was someone who—?

  Suddenly, Conrad stood before her. With another man. Oh no…

  Her brother indicated the stranger. “Mr. Wolverton, may I introduce, Miss Fleming.”

  Wolverton. The name fit. His blue eyes, opened only to slits, accessed her as if she were some sort of delicacy. His mouth curved into a big, wide smile. But not a pleasant one. No, more like an animal who knew his prey was in his sights. He bowed. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Fleming. Quite pleased.”

  Cecilia clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr.… Wolverton.” Her stomach clenched. Surely he wouldn’t ask her to dance. Perhaps he simply wished to—

  “Would you honor me with a turn about the floor, Miss Fleming?”

  She squelched a groan that longed to work its way up from her chest. A cough to her left startled her. Mr. Radcliff. His face had reddened and his hands were clenched at his sides. Almost as if… Was he unhappy that another man asked her to dance?

  I have no choice. “Thank you, Mr. Wolverton. That would be lovely.” She set her glass beneath her chair. Accepting his outstretched hand, she allowed him to help her to stand.

  Something like a low growl came from Mr. Radcliff. She raised her eyebrows and stared at him. His gaze found hers, almost as if he beseeched her to… to what? Not accept the other man’s invitation?

  Surely not. Mr. Radcliff barely knew her. He had no claim. Though a part of me wishes he did.

  Mr. Wolverton cleared his throat and tilted his head toward the floor. Mr. Radcliff gave a single nod and stepped back.

  Cecilia had the urge to fan herself. All this trouble over me? Shock coursed through her. I
f they only knew who I truly am and what I am not. If so they wouldn’t be so quick to request a dance.

  As soon as they were several yards away from Conrad and Amelia, Mr. Wolverton stopped and pivoted. He held out his hands and his mouth formed the awful feral smile again. A shudder wracked through her as she lifted her hands to his.

  Please let this dance go quickly. The music of a new song began. A quicker tempo. Mr. Wolverton tugged her close. Too close. What was he doing? With care, trying not to draw attention from others, she pushed against his chest.

  He leaned down and whispered next to her ear. “There now. Don’t act the part of a scared filly. I know what you really want.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s not a secret that I’m wealthy. And when my father dies, which I hope won’t take too much longer, I’ll be richer, still.”

  Cecilia’s mouth dropped open. The gall. The insensitivity. To assume something so crass about her? To wish one’s parent dead? “Mr. Wolverton, I’m not sure why you would think that of me, but I assure you I—”

  He reached up and stroked her face with his finger. She was grateful he at least wore gloves. How much more hideous it would be to actually feel his skin? She angled her head away, hoping to end the unwanted caress.

  “Going to be that way, are you?” He laughed and dropped his hand, once again grasping hers. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

  “Ah!” She stumbled and he caught her. While she was glad to have not ended up on the floor, her skin crawled when he pulled her too close again.

  They whirled around with the other couples. Cecilia was amazed that she could have been dancing through the ordeal of having the man nearly maul her. Perhaps her few lessons had indeed taken root and she’d danced from instinct.

  As they neared the place where she’d left Conrad and Amelia, she craned her neck for a glimpse of Mr. Radcliff. He hadn’t moved, still standing next to Cecilia’s empty chair as if guarding it against someone who might try to steal it. His arms were crossed and he glared at Mr. Wolverton.

  Goodness, he appeared to be quite menacing. Is that on my behalf? Had he noticed the way Mr. Wolverton had pawed at her? Pulled her inappropriately close? If he saw it from across the room, how many others had witnessed it as well? Heat crawled through her. How mortifying.

  What if Conrad and Amelia had noticed? Would they be embarrassed as well? Sorry that they’d suggested bringing her to the dance? She narrowed her eyes at her dance partner. If you’ve ruined my chances at meeting some nice man because of your abhorrent behavior…

  “You’re very quiet, Miss Fleming. Nothing to say?”

  Oh she had plenty to say. None of it nice. She forced a smile and shook her head. I just want this dance to end.

  “Come now. Isn’t there anything you wish to ask?”

  “Ask?”

  He shrugged. “Why yes. Ladies like to know what they’re acquiring in a man.”

  Acquiring? In him? “I’m not sure I follow.” Nor do I really wish to.

  His lecherous gaze lowered from her mouth to her chest. “Oh, I think you do. You women are all the same. But it doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind talking about myself.”

  Of that she was sure. What a rude man. She turned her head, hoping to view anything, anyone but him.

  He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Don’t be shy, darling.”

  Darling?

  “I don’t mind questions. Go on. Ask me anything.”

  Are you really a reptile in wolf’s clothing? The words hovered on the end of her tongue, teetering back and forth, ready to spring to life as soon as they had the chance. But that wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t reflect well on her brother. She shook her head.

  “There must be something.”

  Through clenched teeth, she forced out, “No.”

  Relief swept through her when the music ended. Finally! She was ready to perform the obligatory curtsey and have him escort her back to the chairs as quickly as possible.

  Cecilia pulled away to do that very thing, but gasped when his hand clamped down on hers, vise-like and cruel.

  “No, I don’t think so. We’ve not had a chance to get acquainted yet.”

  “You know me as well as you ever shall.” She tugged, but he wasn’t giving an inch.

  People stepped around them, heading for the chairs. Cecilia, still tethered to the awful man, stood on her toes to peer over the crowd. Mr. Radcliff must have been doing the same, because he appeared to be taller as he peered about the room.

  There. He saw her. And frowned.

  I need to get away from this man. She pulled hard, hoping not to stumble. In desperation, she looked at Mr. Wolverton, pleading with her eyes for mercy. “Please…”

  “I’m never one to refuse a lady.”

  Thank goodness. He leaned close. What was he doing—?

  Mr. Wolverton angled his head down. Cecilia pulled away but he clenched her right shoulder and drew her back in. She gasped. He’s going to kiss me! With all of her might, she grabbed his other hand and bent back his finger.

  His eyes widened in shock. He sputtered something incoherent, but it gave her the chance she needed to break away.

  She pushed through the crowd. By the time she reached the chairs, Conrad and Amelia were nowhere to be found. Where have they gone?

  “Miss Fleming? Are you hurt?”

  She turned. Hot tears streaked down her face. “Oh, Mr. Radcliff…”

  “There now. What happened?”

  “I…”

  “Cecilia?” Amelia hurried toward her and pulled her into a hug. “Darling, you’re crying. Here, let’s sit down.” They claimed some chairs near where Cecilia had been before she’d accepted the awful dance with the wolf.

  Conrad stepped closer. “I demand to know who has upset my… my cousin.” He glared at Mr. Radcliff.

  She couldn’t let her brother have the wrong impression. She tugged on Conrad’s hand, forcing him to bend over. “It wasn’t Mr. Radcliff. He’s so sweet,” she whispered. “It was—”

  “Yes? Who? Who was it?”

  With a glance around them to make sure the barbarian wasn’t near, she kept her voice low. “It was Mr. Wolverton.”

  Conrad’s mouth hung open, but only for a moment. “But he’s a business associate, and I—” He sliced his hand through the air. “That matters not. If he did something to bring about this reaction from you, then whatever it was must have been inexcusable.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, really I didn’t.”

  Amelia rubbed Cecilia’s hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We won’t speak now of what he did to you. Perhaps later, when we are home, you and I shall discuss it. But only if you wish to.”

  “Yes… yes, thank you.”

  “Do you feel the need to go home now?”

  Cecilia glanced over at Mr. Radcliff. He stood off to the side, but not very far away. He was bent toward her slightly, as if hovering, ready to protect her should any more trouble come her way. If she left now, she’d not have another chance to dance with him.

  If he would even ask me…

  “No, Amelia. I’m fine. Sorry to have worried you. I’d like to stay if you don’t mind.”

  Conrad smiled. “Of course we don’t mind.”

  “But, I wouldn’t have to dance with Mr. Wolverton again, would I?”

  Her brother’s smile fell away. “If he so much as steps in your direction, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  “And me.” Mr. Radcliff stepped closer. Cecilia’s heart nearly melted. He acted as if he truly did care about her.

  Amelia patted her hand a final time and then stood. “Why don’t you rest here for a few moments, Cecilia? Then perhaps at the next song, you’d be ready to dance with some nice gentleman again.” Amelia’s quick glance at Mr. Radcliff didn’t escape Cecilia.

  With a smile, which seemed meant just for Cecilia, Mr. Radcliff gave a single nod. He switched his focus to the crowd of dancers,
and tensed.

  What had he observed? She craned her neck to see around the twirling couples. His focus caught on one couple in particular. One woman in particular.

  Who was she? As the couple neared them, Cecilia got a better view. The woman was lovely with dark hair and a comely figure. Much more comely than mine. The man she danced with wasn’t attractive in the least, with a short stubby body and homely facial features. Yet, the way in which the woman gazed at him made it plain to anyone with eyes that she cared very deeply for him.

  But who was she, and why was she important to Mr. Radcliff?

  Cecilia glanced up at him. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. The muscles in his jaw flexed. Was he angry with the woman? Because she danced with the man?

  The warmth Cecilia had felt at Mr. Radcliff’s declaration of standing with Conrad to protect her from Mr. Wolverton fled. It was replaced by a wave of sadness. Because in her heart, she knew that the woman must have meant something to Mr. Radcliff. Something important.

  The couple danced away, out of Cecilia’s line of sight. When the music ended, Mr. Radcliff relaxed as if relieved to not have to watch the woman dance with the other man.

  Mr. Radcliff then focused on Cecilia. His scowl, which he’d worn since noticing the couple dance, was replaced with a one-sided smile. A dimple, deep and adorable, appeared just above the left side of his mouth. “Miss Fleming, are you feeling up to another dance?”

  In spite of her misgivings, of her conviction that Mr. Radcliff had feelings of some sort for the woman he’d watched earlier, Cecilia’s heart fluttered about in her chest. If she had an opportunity to dance with him again, to be held in his arms and to place her hand in his, she’d not lose the chance.

  But what if he had affections for another? What if he’d only asked her to dance out of kindness?

  Then I’ll enjoy every moment of our dance and if it’s all that I’m to have with Mr. Radcliff, I’ll treasure it my heart to take out later and relive it in my dreams. “Yes, Mr. Radcliff. I’d love another dance with you.”

  Chapter Fourteen