by Julia Donner
“Distant but cousins on my mother’s side.”
Lord Deverille’s smarmy grin sent the silent message that he expected her to ask for what he knew. She obliged him. “You say he’s wife-hunting again?”
“There was the hiccough of Euphonia Rutherford, if you recall.”
“Yes, from last year. She would never do. I could’ve foreseen that association disintegrating.”
“His most recent disappointment is Honoria Bagdely. She must be thirty if she a day and as pristine as the day of her come-out. Talk about leading apes in you-know-where.”
Since Emily was two years younger than the Honorable Honoria, she had to take exception to that remark. “Dante’s cruel notion about the fates of unmarried females notwithstanding, you find me astounded that she called it off.”
“It’s said to have something to do with his offspring. Miss Bagdely was introduced to his sons and unfortunately left alone in a room with them. Not above five minutes was what I was told, and she subsequently erupted from the room. Dashed out of the house and all the way back to London at a hard gallop, so they say.”
She covertly watched Hugh converse with Lady Asterly, who nodded and smiled in Emily’s direction. Hugh looked over his shoulder, sent her a scowl, and looked back to his hostess. His sour reaction to seeing her was typical. He’d been scorning and scolding her since they were children.
While Lord Deverille blathered endlessly from his store of spiteful rumors, Emily obliquely studied her cousin. Hugh lifted and bowed over Lady Asterly’s hand then began to circulate, sauntering the perimeter of the dance floor. Women eyed him with speculation and invitation. He certainly wasn’t an ill-favored sort. Knee britches were the bane of many gentlemen but not Sir Hugh. His valet had no problems there. His master had a pair of marvelous legs. He also filled out his jacket nicely and had an imperious profile.
It wasn’t her cousin’s lofty attitude that set up her back. She rather liked a challenge, and his condescension made her want to smear his perfect self with a custard tart. He paused to gracefully lean down and fetch up a lady’s purposely dropped fan. He returned it with a bow, and after making some appropriate remark, resumed his stroll.
What a stick the man was. And yet, he could be the solution to her dilemma. If he didn’t pass by her chair as he completed his circle of the room, she would hunt him down.
Hugh surprised her when he gave the cut direct to her former lover, Langston Wade. The swine had better not be spreading tales about her since their break-up. She thought she’d been discreet, but a hint of the affair must have been discovered. She could feel Hugh’s chilly blast from across the room.
With snide glee, Lord Deverille murmured, “Poor Langston. One doesn’t wish to get on Sir Hugh’s bad side.”
“What are you talking about?” she snapped and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Well, my dear, Sir Hugh is a very different sort of gentleman.”
Emily’s heart shrank with a desperation she didn’t want to acknowledge. Doubts deflated her budding plan for social survival. If Hugh were secretly the kind of man who wasn’t interested in females, then he’d never do for her purposes, while every instinct cried out the wrongness of that assumption. A man in the petticoat line would be so much easier to persuade.
“Sir, I must disagree. I’ve known Hugh since I was out of leading strings. He’s not a—he prefers the company of women.”
Lord Deverille gave her a horrified look and hurriedly amended, “No, not that sort. Most certainly not! Prior to his marriage, he always kept a….er, he’s not what you imply. I meant that he can be a sneaky fellow. One never wants to get his ire up or intimate any hint of insult. Knock you flat before you can blink an eye.”
“Sir Hugh? Surely not! He might split a seam. I used to pelt him with mud, and he never did more than stalk away without a word.”
“Well, of course. You’re female. The idea of striking a female would never enter his head. I am speaking of what transpires between men.”
Emily decided to not mention that her female sensibilities gave her no reason to think that Lord Deverille was a member of the masculine gender. Instead, she muttered, “I must accept, sir, that what you say is true. I will agree that Hugh is a high stickler. He might feel pushed to respond if grievously provoked.”
After a pause for reflection, she cautiously asked, “You are certain of this? You’ve heard of Hugh being a part of an altercation?”
“I witnessed an incident last month.”
“Stemming from?” she prompted.
Lord Deverille fidgeted then glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “An uncouth remark about a lady. It was over in a less than a second, a single blow.”
“You astonish me, sir, you truly do.”
Pleased with that, Deverille regained his footing to expound, “Indeed, it was a remarkable incident. Whereas one might describe Bainbridge as a blunt implement in a fistfight, Sir Hugh is a precision instrument. You’ve lost the fight and your head before you know it.”
“I can scarcely credit it. Sir Hugh, expending the effort to knock someone down, the boy who was terrified of getting a smudge on his britches?”
“Whereas you adored wallowing in the dirt?”
Habit had her replying before thinking. Breathing suggestion into her voice, she said, “Oh, my lord, there is something inexplicably delicious about getting filthy.”
She hadn’t cared for the loathsome suggestion inherent in his remark, so she unsheathed her claws to show who held the reins. Scandalmongers often got the notion that they had the power, but she’d been dodging scandal for years and knew how to work on their fears to keep them quiet. Deverille had revealed his horror of getting involved in a fistfight.
The wanton note in her tone had succeeded in turning her companion’s face dark red. Flustered and indecisive, he leaped to his feet when she stood. “I am obliged for your company and advice, Lord Dev. Now I think I shall seek out my cousin.”
She felt some satisfaction in the desperation that infused Deverill’s startled gape. The man was a cruel snake. Let him chew on his terror that Sir Hugh would take him to task for telling tales. She still couldn’t imagine Hugh exerting himself to actually make a fist and use it. Her concern was that there might be a hint of truth about his not preferring women for anything other than providing heirs. Seducing him was an integral part of the plan she improvised. She would know soon enough by testing him. Few men could resist her when she put her mind to it.
She went to where her cousin chatted with Lord Asterly. Hugh saw her coming and excused himself.
“Cousin Emily, how good it is to see you again.”
“You don’t mean that, so stop being polite.”
He inhaled, released a long breath, and turned his attention to the dancers finishing a quadrille as he replied, “Asterly says you’ll be playing the harp tonight.”
“Elizabeth asked. I like her and will do whatever she desires.”
“She asked me to sing in a quartet and hopes you can be persuaded to play a four-handed piece.”
Emily twitched a shoulder. “As I said, she asks and I’m delighted to be of service. It’s the one thing I do so well.”
His expressive hazel eyes swept over her. “I’ve heard of other accomplishments.”
“Oh, stop it, Hugh. I’m a widow of nearly eight years. I will not hie me to a nunnery nor languish in mourning for the rest of my life in memory of a war hero. If I’ve become a family embarrassment, then I will ask you to help me make an end of it.”
His sandy eyebrows lowered. “What are you talking about, Emily?”
A glint in his hazel-eyed glare made her pause. Stoking up her courage, she bluntly said, “Meet me after the music is over. Everyone will be at supper and we’ll speak privately.”
“What if I should like to have my supper in peace and not sequestered with a woman of your reputation for enjoying masculine company.”
She squinted up at him. “Hugh
, do not force me to involve you in a scene. I require your assistance with an unpleasant circumstance. You are family. I expect you to bow to your obligations like the stickler you are.”
He looked down his proud nose at her. “You never change and continue to be the most annoying female in the world. Your threat of making a scene is a bluff. Nonetheless, I accept family obligation, as you knew I would. But I will be hungry by then.”
“Fine. Bring a plate to the green saloon. There is a connecting room that Elizabeth uses as a reading area. I will do the talking while you eat your supper. And whether you like it or not, the door will be locked.”
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)
Synopsis for Friendship Series Book 7:
LORD CARNALL AND MISS INNOCENT
Ana Worth has enough problems keeping her seminary from financial ruin and her wastrel, but adorable, brother out of debtors’ prison. More trouble lands on her doorstep—an Irish lord on the hunt for a suitable bride among the dwindling ranks of her students. Ladies, young and old, sigh as he passes by. Even her dog likes the urbane, annoying, and mesmerizing aristocrat, but Ana has problems to solve, people to save, and no time to waste.
Lord Carnall fulfills a friend’s request to see if his schoolgirl sister will suit as a bride. Since it’s past time to concede to family obligations, and Carnall is bored beyond anything, he consents to give the girl a chance. It turns out his friend’s sister is something out of the ordinary, so then why is he unable to think about anything but the headmistress with the laughing eyes? Ana Worth isn’t the compliant wife he envisioned, but she’d make a marvelous paramour. Thinking up ways to get her to agree keeps him awake nights—along with some lessons he’d love to teach her—the sort of instruction never taught at a girl’s seminary.
