by Julia Donner
A movement flickered over his features, a brief and poignant flash of emotion gleamed in his eyes. He draped the chain over her head, her hair over her chest, and situated the gem on a bed of brunette waves.
He surveyed his treasures and informed her in a low, contented murmur, “I don’t think we should sell it straightaway. I’d like a painting done of you. Something on the lurid side. Perhaps wearing only this.” He used a fingertip to expose her nipples. “Like so. Yes, that looks rather nice. Both pink to match the diamond. Perhaps a clump of grapes below, strategically placed.”
She scoffed at the idea, a laugh that disturbed his arrangement, which meant he had to resituate everything to his satisfaction. “A portrait of me? To hang up beside the angelic Beryl? No, thank you. I will most definitely come out the lesser by comparison.”
“Not in the gallery, you luscious baggage. I want it to hang on that wall over there, the first thing I see in the morning. Perhaps I’ll have it done in a sheer robe. Or something from the boudoir, lacy and impossibly provocative.”
“Then I shall shout to the world that Sir Hugh Exton-Lloyd is a common dissembler. You want everyone to think you’re a stickler when you’re naught but a satyr in prig’s clothing.”
He growled, held her in place to suck a love bite on her shoulder. She squirmed and wriggled but couldn’t get free. “Stop it, Hugh. My maid will see it.”
Releasing her skin with a noisy smack, he grinned as she continued to squirm. “Surely it wouldn’t be the first time Ferris has seen one.”
“Not on me! I never allowed anyone to make marks of any kind.”
“But you’ll let me, won’t you?’ He waited until she would look him in the eye.
She squinted at him. “Perhaps. You do bring out the worst in me.”
“And the best. What if we,” he leaned over to nuzzle and whisper in her ear.
When Emily jerked back and stared at him, wide-eyed, Hugh grinned. “Want to try it?”
She tried to pretend that she was scandalized, but couldn’t stop a gurgle of laughter from bubbling out. He silenced her with another whispered suggestion and glided his hand downward.
Against her mouth he said, “My lady, you have the most deliciously sultry and suggestive way of laughing. It quite gives me ideas.”
She exhaled a long, satisfied breath and stretched her arms over her head, allowing him complete access. “Oh, if only the world knew what a dreadfully naughty, wonderfully wicked man my old stick of a husband is.”
She felt his lips curve into a smile against the corner of her mouth. “Then let’s be clever and never tell them.”
Dear Reader:
If you enjoyed The Dandy and the Flirt, please consider writing a review. An excerpt from Lord Carnall and Miss Innocent follows this list of titles also written by Julia Donner and M.L. Rigdon.
Thanks for your friendship and continued support of this series.
Mary Lou
MORE TITLES:
Writing Historical Fiction as Julia Donner
The Friendship series
THE TIGRESSE AND THE RAVEN
THE HEIRESS AND THE SPY
THE RAKE AND THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER
THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST
THE EARL AND THE RUNAWAY
THE DANDY AND THE FLIRT
LORD CARNALL AND MISS INNOCENT (Coming Soon)
Writing as M.L.Rigdon
Fantasy
Seasons of Time trilogy
PROPHECY DENIED
BEYOND THE DARK MOUNTAINS
HER QUEST FOR THE LANCE
Contemporary
THE ATLANTIS CRYSTAL (A Philadelphia Hafeldt novel)
SEDUCTIVE MINES (Another Philadelphia Hafeldt adventure)
NEVER LET ME DIE (Romantic suspense with paranormal elements)
YA Fantasy
Songs of Atlantis series
THE VITAL
MASTER OF THE DARK
CANTICLE OF DESTRUCTION (Fall 2015)
INTO THE EAST (Spring 2016)
LORD CARNALL AND MISS INNOCENT
Friendship Series Book 7
Mrs. Worth’s Academy for Select Young Ladies
Kent, England
September 1819
Chapter 1
Ana Worth stared out her bedchamber window. Distracted by worry, she couldn’t appreciate the garden’s faded flowers of summer. She tried to envision the unfurling blossoms of the next spring but could only see the gloom of winter. She’d not been able to sleep and arose early to watch the sun seep hazy light through the early morning fog. By the end of this day, she would know if Worth’s Academy, would survive. All rested on the interview, an appointment set for three hours from now.
Sunday was an odd day to conduct business. She had specified this day with the thought in mind that almost everyone would be away from the house for church service. It was customary for the students to don their bonnets, capes and gloves and set out for the chapel, leaving the house silent for the only time during the week. Every week, Aunt Honoria herded students down the tree-lined lane to the chapel, exhorting them to set an energetic pace for the half-mile walk. Her aunt insisted on exercise for the enhancement of complexion and the limbering mind and body to better absorb the sermon. Complaints were met with Aunt Honoria’s assurance that a half-mile walk didn’t signify as a good stretch of the limbs. The girls despaired and complained through the entire process. None of them had the Worth work ethic and athleticism.
Ana felt a grim smile twist up the side of her mouth. What Aunt Honoria needed for the herding task was Torquil, the black and white collie now lying on his belly by her foot. His gleaming eyes gazed up, waiting for her command. The collie’s plumy tail happily slapped the carpet when she looked down at him with a genuine smile. Utter devotion and adulation.
A vague ache settled in her chest—the inescapable understanding that her dog was as close as she would ever come to experiencing adoration. Those dreams had been left behind when she passed the quarter century mark. The difference between her age and the girls that surrounded her provided a constant reminder of that reality. But that was neither here nor there. Her responsibilities were too numerous to waste time regretting what she would never have. She pushed aside self-pity to focus on the more important problem of how to keep the school afloat.
How should she conduct the interview? This would not be the usual case of deeming a girl acceptable for admission. The school was at capacity, but the infusion of tuition for two more girls might save the school from financial ruin. The enrollment had always been filled, but last month had brought an unexpected downturn. Her brother’s heedless return to gambling had placed the school in jeopardy. Extra students were needed to offset the unforeseen expenditure of once again covering Simon’s debts.
A solution came in the form of a written inquiry from Lord Carnall, a marquis rich beyond her understanding. He had two sisters he wished placed and educated before both were presented the following year. Although it was not stated, the implication was clear that money would not be an obstacle.
A single line in Lord Carnall’s letter revealed that their mother had remarried and decided to live in Italy with her new husband. His sisters had been reared in Ireland, far from polite society, and on their own since left in the care of a governess. This could mean that they were disasters requiring substantial instruction, or that Carnall sought to give them a little polish before thrusting them into the process of the London marriage mart. Since many of the academy’s students were children of the aristocracy and gentry, this could also be a clever method of giving his sisters the comfort of familiar faces in unfamiliar surroundings when they were launched into the swirl of London society. Not an inconsequential idea. This lord either cherished the tender sensibilities of his siblings or sought to get them off his hands in the most expedient manner.
She caught herself waxing cynical and curbed her judgment of a person she had yet to meet, recognizing it for what it was—frustration born of
desperation. Fear made her negative without reason, but there was ample reason for worry. The school was lodged in what had been Worth Hall, the family’s mortgaged manor house. If the school collapsed, she and her aunts had nowhere to go. Worth’s Academy had been despised by competitors for so many years that no other school would take them on as teachers. Spite, one of the possible and devastating aspects of success.
She’d never heard of Lord Carnall. The only reference to the title was to an Englishman, quite elderly at the time of the last entry into peerage records. There were other titles attached to the marquisate but nothing about the present holder. An Irish cousin was to have inherited after the last marquis listed. She closed the book, not interested in sorting through descendants and the twisted trails of progenitor laws. All she needed to know was that the title was genuine, but at this point, to be honest, she would have taken on the man’s sisters if they had been from the rookeries of London.
She dressed carefully in her best day frock and braided her straight, black hair in tight plaits. The thickness and utter lack of curl meant many pins were required to keep it anchored to her head under a modestly ruffled cap. No frills, only bland colors, nothing to cause any comment. That was her personal rule, one she did not expect her students to keep. In order for the school to prosper, her young ladies had to present themselves in the best light to attract the most advantageous marriages. Attendees of Worth’s enjoyed a certain distinction. Her pupils invariably contracted brilliant marriages.
The sound of carriage wheels made her heart thump then race. So much hinged on the next twenty minutes. She checked her image in the mirror, and softly whistled a command to Torquil. He sprang up and followed her out of the room and down two flights of steps. On the first floor, she smoothed her palms over Torquil’s silky head then whispered an order to go to his rug in the kitchen. After a soft woof of farewell, Torquil dashed away, nails clicking on the floor until he reached the carpeted passage to the back stairs.
Fortunately, they had an outdoor servant to meet arrivals. After many economies, she’d saved enough to keep Jack, the combination potboy and stable lad. She’d instructed him to keep an eye out for today’s visitor. She’d asked Elsie, the only maid they had left, to sit in the foyer and work on mending, ready to tuck the handwork out of sight before answering the door. She gave the maid a meaningful nod as she swept by, heading for the first floor receiving room. Taking a seat, she concentrated on focusing her thoughts. It didn’t help that she’d forgotten to lotion her hands. She and her aunts had to make up for the loss of servants by taking on some the housework. Cupping one hand inside the other, palms up, hid the roughened knuckles
When a gentle tap sounded on the door, Ana rose from the couch. Elsie entered, curtsied, and stepped to one side as she announced, “His lordship, Marquis of Carnall.”
He wasn’t what she expected. She had formed an image of a much different man, not the commanding, elegant creature who entered. He wore a claret-colored jacket with burgundy lapels. Tasseled Hessians sparkled despite the dreary light from the windows. His high shirt points were held in place by dazzling white neckwear tied in the Osbaldeston. The brightness of his linen intensified the darkness of blue-black hair shorn shorter than what was in fashion. A wide, expressive mouth curved into what might have been a smile had its contours not hinted at cynicism. Uppermost was the fact that she’d seen him previously, and she knew he’d seen her at a party in London two weeks before. That unspoken truth hung in the room—that he had rudely stared at her and that she had avoided every opportunity he had attempted for an introduction. She was not a fool. There was only one reason a gentleman of his position would seek introduction to a woman of her age. But now, she did feel the fool, realizing that he’d been interested in the school, not an association of an illicit nature.
She curtsied relative to his position. He dipped his chin in a bow, more like a jerk of his head, and accepted her gestured invitation to sit. An appreciative glint flashed in his midnight dark eyes when she asked Elsie to take ale out to his servants.
It wasn’t until Carnall approached that she sustained the full impact of his presence. She’d met peoples of all stations, with the exception of royal princes and dukes. Aristocratic parents or their family representatives had filed through this room, but Lord Carnall was an entirely different bird from the same flock. When he walked by her to take the place on the couch she’d vacated, he brought with him a tangible aspect of authority, a raw power and crackling vitality that enveloped her in an odd feeling of temporary weakness. Concealing her condition, she sat on a sturdy, ladder-backed chair before her legs gave out.
Ana pinched her lips into a determined line and inhaled a fortifying breath. This is what happens when one neglects breakfast. Due to nerves, she hadn’t eaten since yesterday luncheon. It took a moment to recover from the impact of Carnall’s presence and her reaction. She used the time it took the mantel clock to chime twelve to fold her hands on her lap and sort out her scrambled wits.
It helped that they spoke the commonplace subjects that were expected to preface polite conversation, his health, the weather, the journey here. His voice had a melodic quality, a vague lilt she liked, revealing that he had spent a great deal of his life in his homeland before accepting his title. When he declined refreshment, she deemed it an appropriate time to breach the reason for his visit.
“You have come due to an interest in our academy, sir. In your letter, you wrote about two sisters. May I know their ages?”
The lilting cadence in his manner of speaking softened his abrupt reply. “Much younger than I. Charlotte is seventeen, Mary Kathleen, sixteen.”
“Do you have plans for them to be presented?”
“Yes. Next year, if all goes as I expect. I would ask that if there is an opening for enrollment that the girls stay together. They’ve been slow to acclimate to England.”
“That is to be expected. To answer your inquiry, I have a large bedchamber overlooking the garden available.” She didn’t say that it was her own.
She noted a slight relaxation of his shoulders as he said, “That will suffice.”
“Sir, I must ask if they will require accommodations for their maids?”
“Yes. Not in the servant quarters but nearby, if that is possible. I know that is an unusual request, but Charlotte has not adapted to this country as easily as Mary Kathleen. Their maids are girls from the village where they lived.”
Something about that sounded off, somehow evasive. She wanted to ask but couldn’t pry. Perhaps her thoughts had been reflected in her expression, or he sensed her reserve.
His quick understanding came as a surprise when he answered her doubts. “My sisters were born after I left for school. We know each other from holidays. I’ve known them since birth, but they know very little of me. Will you be able to accept my sisters or must you meet them first?”
“Sir, you have not asked for the school’s qualifications.”
He’d kept his focus on the door throughout the interview, as if assuring himself of his exit. His reply sounded clipped, abrupt to the point of disinterest. “Not necessary. I’ve been apprised.”
A slight movement at the edge of his left eye, like a suppressed wince, made her pause. She readjusted her hands in her lap before responding. “Nonetheless, my lord, I feel obligated to pass along some assurances. Worth Academy enjoys a unique reputation, but I am more than delighted to supply you with whatever will appease any concern or question.”
“As I said, ma’am, unnecessary. You come highly recommended from a mutual friend.”
Despite the rigidity of his attitude and manner, as if he were expecting a blow at any moment, but grimly determined to tough it out, she cautiously asked, “And that name, if you please?”
“Why your friend, Leticia. Lady Bainbridge.”
She couldn’t hide the pleased smile. All it took was the mention of her friend’s name to put her in high spirits. A laugh bubbled up and out.
/> Carnall stared, unblinking as if stunned, his reserved and stiff manner blasted away by her unexpected exuberance, but she couldn’t hold back the pleasure, the exquisite relief of something pleasant in the midst of the last, miserable weeks.
“Sir, you know my wonderful Letty? Oh, I suppose I should be calling her Lady Bainbridge now, but I miss her so, and she married so unexpectedly. Have you seen her recently? Is she happy?”
“Why, er, yes, decidedly so.”
Clasping her hands to her chest, she bowed her head and laughed again, unable to control the rippling emotions. At last a blessing, a moment of reprieve. How delicious and soothing this sweet moment of untarnished joy.
He swiftly rose when she did, his confusion apparent when he quickly said, “Had I known it would provide you with so much pleasure, I would’ve immediately mentioned it. Perhaps I should have realized the depth of your friendship. She enjoyed reminiscing about your days together here.”
“It was quite the best time of my life. Nothing of note has happened since those days.”
An odd expression briefly cross his face, then he rallied to say, “I can assure you that your friend is most happy in her present circumstances, and so is her husband.”
She stopped herself from flinging out her hands for him to clasp. She had the strongest urge to physically share her delight with him. She clutched the folds of her skirts instead.
“My Lord Carnall, you have made me elated with this news! Distances and the demands of our lives have kept my friends and I from enjoying each other’s company. Please know that I will do my possible to make your sisters as happy as I am at this moment.”
He paused then said, “She told me how close you were. You and another friend, Emily?”
“Yes. We were inseparable and rarely have the opportunity to be together.” Sensing a chill on her face, she wiped away a tear coursing down her cheek. “Do forgive my effusiveness. Let us return to the matter at hand. When will you bring Lady Charlotte and Mary Kathleen?”
