Hell of a Lady

by Anders, Annabelle

  Rhoda winced. “Must we? Can we not simply return to Pebble’s Gate? Forget this Season ever happened?” She knew the question was a ridiculous one. Firstly, her mother would die rather than reside in the same home as her father, and second, Rhoda was not a coward.

  Her mother strode across the room and tugged on the rarely used bell-pull. “Turn around. Let’s get you out of this day dress.”

  Rhoda lifted the long strands of hair off her nape while her mother began unlacing the comfortable gown. “What should I wear?” She felt like a small child, her mama forcing her to go to her first party.

  At that moment, Lucy appeared and strode toward the large wardrobe. “Oh, Miss Mossant, the artichoke taffeta. It brings out the little green flecks in your eyes and makes the copper in your hair stand out.”

  Rhoda peered over at the looking glass. She was completely unaware of any green flecks in her eyes. She did have red in her hair though. And red was the opposite of green.

  And green was her favorite color.

  With a deep breath, she nodded. “Very well. Green, it is.”

  Two hours later, Rhoda felt green as she waited to climb out of the carriage behind her mother. Dozens of familiar faces mingled in the drive, milling about waiting to climb the wide staircase.

  The men wore combinations of bright silks and woolen blacks, separating the dandies from the soberer gentlemen. The ladies tittered behind fluttering fans, some with tall feathers in their hair, the younger ones dressed in pastels and whites.

  Oh, how she wished Sophia had been able to attend with her! Or Emily or Cecily! She’d not realized how reliant she’d come to be upon her friends over the past two years. And tonight, of all nights, she needed them more than ever.

  And then a gloved hand appeared in the doorway.

  Masculine, at the end of an elegant black sleeve.

  Not the hand of a footman.

  “Lord Carlisle?” She couldn’t prevent the sound of relief that escaped her exclamation.

  She’d considered that he might be in attendance but hadn’t expected to be able to speak with him.

  And now he was here.

  “Rhododendron.” His face appeared, oh so dear, merriment in his eyes and a reassuring smile.

  She covered her mouth to hide the answering smile that had burst from somewhere deep inside of her. Oh, but she’d been dreading tonight and now she somehow felt she had absolutely nothing to fear.

  She allowed him to assist her to the pavement and then tuck her hand inside the crook of her arm.

  Her mother had already located one of her friends and appeared to be in deep conversation. Her mother never had quite embraced the duties of a dedicated chaperone.

  “I trust you have been well.” His voice rumbled near her ear.

  “I have been holed up in my bedchamber like a mouse,” she admitted. So very unlike her. “It is high time I face the felines.”

  He laughed. “You’re no mouse, Miss Mossant.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from turning to meet his gaze.

  Oh, how she’d missed his face.

  She wanted to ask if he’d had any luck with his finances. He seemed quite jovial for a man in dun territory. “And you, my lord?” She tilted her head. “You appear ever so cheerful this evening. Have you met with any luck?”

  He winced and shook his head. “It’s just the sight of you, I’m afraid.”

  Oh, my. How could words set one’s heart to flight and then send it plummeting to the ground in one fell swoop?

  The news, however, made her stumble.

  She and Sophia might have to sneak into White’s after all.

  At the same revelation, she wondered if a lady would be sent to Newgate for doing so. For a female to enter into such an iconic male domain might be right up there with breaking the Ten Commandments. Or even worse, the King’s laws. Or the Regent’s laws, be that as it may.

  He steadied her and chuckled. “You’ve nothing to fear tonight.” He must have mistaken her expression for trepidation of the evening ahead.

  He must mean to watch over her, protect her.

  Ah, yes, she’d have to break into White’s with Sophia’s assistance or without. For Rhoda was tired of keeping herself hidden away, and it was time this wager came to some sort of conclusion.

  Rhoda would rather thrive than survive.

  “At least I’m aware, tonight.” She turned and smiled up at him. She’d ignore those who turned away from her.

  Would they be willing to shun an earl as well?

  “None will have even an inkling of opportunity. As for myself, however, I would ask for a few places on your dance card.”

  She’d not tied it to her wrist like she normally would have. With her free hand, she dipped into her bodice and produced the pristine card for his perusal. He paused, plucked it from her fingers, and ordered her to turn around. When she did so, she felt the paper on her back, along with the pressure of his writing.

  He was signing her card on her back.

  “Lord Carlisle!” She twisted to look over her shoulder in mock disapproval.

  How could he so handily put her at ease with all these people watching? Nothing had become known publicly regarding their aborted betrothal. Sophia had assured her of this.

  Prescott could always sniff such information out, and he always shared it with Sophia.

  When Justin handed back her card, she immediately recognized his careful handwriting. She ought to, she’d been attempting to replicate it for two days now.

  He’d selected both waltzes and the supper dance.

  Three dances! He might as well have had the banns read. Would her mother take exception to him?

  Rhoda would deal with her later if that was the case. For now, she decided she’d bask in his company.

  They entered the Primroses’ large and elegant foyer together, her mother casting her a disapproving glance as she slipped past.

  It didn’t matter that many avoided meeting her gaze. The only eyes she cared about tonight were blue, and comforting, and right beside her. She didn’t want to think about next week, or last year, or even tomorrow.

  He led her through the receiving line, a few raised eyebrows met their greeting, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

  And then they drifted into the glowing ballroom, lit with hundreds, perhaps thousands of candles, and draped in so much greenery that it resembled the outdoors.

  “It’s as though the Primroses decorated tonight with your gown in mind.”

  Rhoda glanced down at her dress and like a silly debutante, felt herself blushing. “Thank you,” she murmured, annoyed at this unfamiliar bout of shyness.

  “How is it that every color seems to bring out your beauty more than the one before?”

  At this comment, she laughed and turned to challenge him with her gaze. “Very good, my lord.” Now she could flirt. She batted her eyelashes and simply enjoyed the attentions of so handsome a man.

  Of this man.

  They were in public and she felt the gazes of several eyes upon them both. Likely, they believed she was attempting to corrupt the poor vicar turned earl.

  She refused to give their suspicions any credibility.

  Although she wouldn’t mind corrupting him just a little.

  “What else have you done with yourself in the two days since we last met? In between searching for your fortune?”

  He turned her to face him in a flourish. “Count the minutes until I would see you again.”

  His delicious compliments delighted her. As did his smile. She knew this game well and enjoyed playing it immensely.

  She’d not enjoyed much lately.

  “Ah, but Lord Carlisle. I counted the seconds.”

  “I refused to eat until I saw you again. Refused to drink.”

  Rhoda licked her lips. “I refused to breathe.”

  He stared at her as though mesmerized and then tilted his head back with a hearty laugh. Oh, but she liked this side of him.

&n
bsp; “How is it that I can laugh with you without knowing what the future holds?” she whispered without thinking.

  He turned serious as well but did not completely relinquish the twinkle behind his gaze. “Perhaps that is why you feel joy. We must value what we feel in the moment. Your heart knows this.”

  The stringed quartet nearby chose that moment to begin playing. It was not a dance, not yet, of course, but the music seemed to enhance the emotion clouding the space around them.

  “So, we must embrace the joy of today, and when the hopelessness comes, pin our sights on tomorrow.”

  “Well said. When did you put off your cynical ways?”

  “When I met you.” Was she flirting again or pouring out her soul? “I think I’d forgotten how to laugh.”

  “Nothing gives me more pleasure than hearing your laughter.” He swallowed hard, as though he, too, were caught up in emotion.

  “But what if…?”

  At her question, he merely shook his head. He did not have the answers to everything. Likely another attribute that had endeared him to his congregation in addition to all of his others.

  “I like that about you.” Rhoda did not check her words. “That you do not know everything. That you admit to not having all of the answers.”

  He shrugged at her compliment. “No one does. Those who do are likely the most uninformed of us all.”

  “My father considers himself all-knowing.” She hadn’t meant to talk about her father. “He blamed my mother for not giving birth to any sons. Because, of course, he had nothing to do with it.”

  “Ah. Men. Horrid creatures.” His ready agreement drew a surprising giggle from her. The two of them had somehow come to be standing by a brocaded wall, and he leaned casually against it as he teased her.

  He teased her and yet showed understanding in his gaze.

  “Not all of you.” Her mouth had a mind of its own tonight. “Not all of you are horrid. And might I add that there are a fair number of unpleasant females as well.”

  “Ah, but they appear so much better.”

  She swatted at him with her fan. “We hide it well.”

  At which, he gazed at her steadily. “You have never been horrid, Rhododendron. Never.”

  His intensity sent a shiver through her. She wanted to lean into him, inhale his masculinity, and feel his hands on her skin. How had he become so very dangerous?

  She needed to change the mood before she did something untoward. “I wish to know what you like to do when you aren’t fretting over this new earldom of yours. Do you enjoy horses? Archery?” She determinedly clasped her hands behind her back and began strolling along the perimeter of the ballroom.

  And he fell right in line with her. “Horses, yes, but I am no expert like Blakely. And archery? I’ll admit I do rather well. My secret vice, and I swear you to secrecy?” He turned, and she nodded in all seriousness. “It’s drawing. Not very manly, I’m quite aware. But not much brings me so much pleasure as capturing the images of my imagination.”

  “Watercolors? Painting?” Rhoda was horrible herself. In all honesty, she couldn’t remember having much aptitude for anything other than socializing and fashion.

  “Do you doubt me or are you merely expressing disappointment?”

  “Neither, my lord.” Instead, she asked about his favorite subjects and mediums. How long he’d painted and what he was painting now.

  In return, he answered her questions and, in doing so, shared a little more of himself. Before she realized it, the dancing had begun.

  “My dear Lord Carlisle!” Her mother’s voice drew Rhoda’s attention back to their surroundings. She approached most determinedly with a simpering blond debutante in tow. “Have you met Miss Dillingham? And wouldn’t you know, no one has yet to claim this set with her.”

  Mother!

  How could her mother do this to her?

  Justin, being his most affable self, turned and greeted them both with all manner of politeness. “Miss Dillingham, ah, yes. Indeed, we have met.” He admitted. “Will you do me the honor of partnering me for this set?” He’d dropped Rhoda’s arm as though it suddenly burned and bowed to the lovely heiress.

  Of course, the girl tittered and accepted with all false modesty. Rhoda could not keep herself from scowling and did not care much at all who witnessed it.

  And then Prescott appeared at their side with Lieutenant Langdon. “Are you not supposed to remain at home with your wife, in mourning?” Rhoda asked the duke somewhat petulantly. It wasn’t fair that he made appearances at social functions when Sophia could not.

  He grinned, not at all put out by her veiled insult. “I only came to introduce my comrade about. You needn’t worry. I shall be departing within the hour.”

  Of course. Prescott was kindness itself. “Duly noted.” She made a halfhearted attempt at being pleasant but her awareness of Miss Dillingham flirting with Lord Carlisle perpetuated her displeasure.

  Blast her mother and blast Prescott.

  “If you’ll pardon me.” Lord Carlisle turned to make his excuses to her. “I shall return later to find you for our waltz.” He, too, seemed to have laughter lurking behind his gaze.

  That was, until the gentleman beside her spoke up.

  “Might I impose upon you for this set, Miss Mossant?” Lieutenant Langdon bowed with an eager smile.

  Who was laughing now?

  Rhoda curtseyed. “But of course, Lieutenant. I’m honored to dance with one so decorated as yourself.”

  Prescott burst out laughing, drawing a scowl from all of them, whereupon he held up one hand. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving.” With a casual wave toward Rhoda’s dance partner and a wink in Carlisle’s direction, he pivoted on his heel and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

  Miss Dillingham tugged at Carlisle, drawing him onto the dance floor, and Rhoda turned to her own partner, hoping her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt.

  She did her best to give the lieutenant her attention but could hardly keep her gaze from straying to the other line. A golden-blond masculine head seemed to stand a few inches above all the rest.

  Was it her imagination, or did that blue gaze of his drift in her direction more times than was appropriate?

  The dance felt as though it went on for hours. And when it came to an end, she was quickly surrounded by eager suitors.

  None of whom she trusted, of course.

  Not Lord Moggersley, with his hands that seemed to have multiplied, nor Lord Odwick, who surely must have inhaled garlic before attending, and certainly not Sir Morris of Clopcott, with his exhortations of undying love. All of them did their utmost to lure her to some secluded place away from the dancing.

  She’d never been so happy for her mother’s company. She imagined her mother would be exhausted before the night was over.

  By the time the first waltz was announced, Rhoda hardly felt like dancing anymore. Strolling, on the terrace, however, was not an option.

  In addition to being exasperated with nearly every male in the vicinity, she couldn’t help but note that her vicar danced every set with some new simpering debutante. It seemed not one of them had not set their cap for the poverty-stricken earl.

  The evening had lost the magic she’d felt earlier.

  Until, that was, he took her in his arms for their waltz.

  She felt as though she’d come home.

  Sinewy muscles tensed beneath her hand when she placed it upon his shoulder. He gripped her hand tighter than was absolutely necessary, and a line furrowed his brow as his gaze scanned the room. “Damned blighters, every one of them.”

  He cared!

  “They will give up eventually and nothing shall come of it.” She’d reassure him as much as herself. They’d all seemed awfully determined.

  And Lord Kensington, Flavion, had been watching her with eagle eyes. Would he never cease to cause trouble for them?

  The thought sent a shiver through her.

  Justin pulled her slightly
closer than was appropriate as the music began. “They’d better. Still, I’m glad to see your mother has been vigilant this evening.”

  “She’s concerned about the wager.” The urge to bury her face against his chest nearly overwhelmed her. “You are exploring your other options this evening?” she stated baldly.

  He chuckled. “There are no other options for me.” But did he mean it? Did he have a choice? They’d been over this.

  And yet with his hand steering her, the warmth of it at her waist, and with his face only inches away from hers, she could not imagine ever wanting any other man.

  She’d go to her grave a dried-up old prune rather than seek any other than her vicar.

  She held his gaze and nodded.

  And forgot everything else in the world but him as he steered her around the floor with long, elegant steps.

  “How does a vicar learn to waltz so well?”

  The thought struck her in the final dance of the set.

  Oh, how she loved it when he grinned like that. “You think I’m a good dancer?” He winked. “You forget, I was raised at Eden’s Court under the tutelage of the Duchess of Prescott.” His humility attracted her more than a thousand boasts ever could, but when he allowed himself a moment to be brash, her heart sang.

  The dance ended all too soon. She’d have to wait two more hours until the supper dance and then at least another two before she and her mother could leave for home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Too Far This Time

  By the time the supper dance was announced, Rhoda had had quite enough of the supposedly besotted gentlemen swarming about her. But that wasn’t her greatest irritant. Bitterness filled her at the sight of so many empty-headed twits fluttering their eyelashes at Lord Carlisle.

  And so, when he led her onto the dance floor, she determined to put an end to all of this.

  They stood facing one another, lined up beside the other dancers, and the music commenced.

  With her flattened palm pressed against his, moving around one another in a slow circle, she took a deep breath. “The wager has risen to over seventy thousand pounds.”