A Lord's Chance

by Anthea Lawson

  The music slowed, and he swept her into one last turn. She held to his shoulder and could not help but lean back into the warm strength of his arm, experiencing for just a moment that which she could never truly have.

  It’s all right, she reminded herself. I’m perfectly content ending up as a spinster.

  Somehow, though, a stubborn corner of her heart refused to listen.

  Gavin was not certain what it was that drew him the most to Miss Isabelle Strathmore. Her self-assurance, certainly. Her wry humor, which matched his own. Her expressive mouth, which he found himself wishing to drop kisses upon . . .

  Not that he had any business doing so.

  “Would you like to take a turn about the deck?” he asked, curiously unwilling to let her out of his arms.

  She glanced up at him, hesitating, and he cursed the unknown fellow who had, if he was not mistaken, broken her heart. The wounded look in her eyes when she spoke of the botanical expedition had roused a strangely protective feeling in him. Most unexpected, and he was not entirely sure he welcomed the sensation.

  “Very well,” she finally said. “A short stroll.”

  He tucked her arm beneath his own, and they promenaded toward the bow of the boat, passing Miss Taylor and Lord Weston. Will gave him an open wink, which Gavin ignored. His friend had already spent the hour before the ball laughing at him.

  “To think—you were convinced that Miss Strathmore was yet another fortune hunter. Now you’ve developed an interest in her, and it seems she does not return the feeling. The irony!”

  “It’s not amusing,” Gavin had said, though he had to admit it was a bit of a contradiction.

  He’d selected a freshly pressed dress shirt, glad to see that the valet he and Will were sharing was skilled at his job. Not only were all of the clothes correctly pressed, their shoes had been freshly polished and their neckties starched to perfection.

  “Are you going to pursue her?” Will cocked one eyebrow at him. “Do you even know how to do anything except run away?”

  “Stop it, or I’ll throw my shoe at you.” Gavin brandished his left dress shoe. “You know my aim is excellent, and you’ll have a mark on your forehead all night. That should put the ladies off.”

  Will sobered. “Look, Gav, it’s just a bit unusual for you. Are you certain you’re not attracted to Miss Strathmore because of her disinterest?”

  “I’ve considered it, and no. I’ve never felt the need to pursue young ladies who aren’t falling at my feet, just to prove a point. In fact, Miss Strathmore’s reticence only demonstrates that she’s not on the hunt for a husband. Given my recent past, that is a quality I do find appealing—but that is not her primary attraction.”

  “An excellent speech!” Will applauded. “One cannot help notice that Miss Strathmore is quite pretty.”

  “Some people value more than appearances.” Gavin gave his friend an exasperated look.

  “Well, yes.” Will grinned. “But you wouldn’t want to marry an ugly girl now, would you?”

  “I’d like to think that if I were sufficiently drawn to a woman’s character, her beauty or lack thereof wouldn’t be a concern.”

  “But it doesn’t hurt to have a lovely face to go along with her attractive personality. Though personally, I find Miss Strathmore too forthright for my tastes.”

  “She is rather self-assured,” Gavin agreed. “I like her confidence, and her obvious intelligence, and her—”

  “Clearly you’ve given the matter of Miss Strathmore a great deal of thought.” Will began rummaging through his neckties. “Should I be worried for you? Perhaps travel abroad has shaken something loose in your head.”

  “If it’s shaken anything, it’s my belief that I’d find a suitable wife among the ton. My horizons have broadened.”

  His friend gave him a solemn look. “If you’re serious, then try not to scare her off. But on to more important things . . .” He held up two neckties. “Which one, the striped or the black?”

  Now, walking about the deck with Miss Strathmore on his arm, Gavin found himself at a loss for words. Will was right—he was not particularly adept at wooing. Or the art of idle flirtation, which seemed to come so easily to his friend.

  Miss Strathmore did not seem to mind, however, and the silence that fell between them was a companionable one.

  As they rounded the ship’s prow, she halted and stared up into the sky. Gavin followed her gaze to where a bright cluster of stars hung above the dark horizon.

  “The Pleiades,” he said, just as she murmured, “The Seven Sisters.”

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  “Are you a stargazer, Lord Jasper? I wouldn’t have thought it.”

  “When I was a boy, my father and I would look at the stars at night from the lawns of our country estate. He taught me the names of the constellations. I’ve never forgotten them.”

  “What an excellent father. Mine only taught me the Latin names of every plant we passed. Much more prosaic, and I don’t think I remember even half.”

  “But you know the names of the stars.”

  She glanced up again. “My brother was given a book of Greek myths by his tutor, which I promptly stole. When I learned that many of the tales had to do with constellations, I spent the summer sneaking out on the terrace, trying to figure out their places in the sky. Mostly I remember the tragic ones.”

  “Like the Seven Sisters.”

  “Yes, and below them, the Hyades.” She pointed slightly to the right. “Another group of sisters turned into stars to escape their terrible fate. It must be pleasant to float serenely in the night sky, out of reach of earthly troubles.”

  “But rather dull after a while, don’t you think? Looking down but never experiencing anything.”

  “Well.” She turned her head and gave him a wry smile. “The first century or so must be rather nice.”

  “Not all of the constellations are tragic, you know. Andromeda and Perseus get to spend eternity side by side in the sky.”

  “A star gazer and a romantic,” she said softly. “I never would have guessed. Alas, I never learned how to find Andromeda.”

  He braced his legs and lifted his face to the stars. Find Taurus, then up and over to Perseus, and then further to the bright stars at Andromeda’s shoulder and ankle.

  “There.” He took Miss Strathmore by the shoulders and gently turned her to face the proper direction. “Do you see that bright star at about eleven o’clock?”

  She tilted her chin up. “Um. I’m not sure.” She pointed. “That one?”

  He crouched down a bit, following the direction of her finger. “No, that’s in Pegasus.”

  Without thinking, he took her arm and guided it upward. “There—that’s Andromeda’s foot.”

  “Where’s the rest of her?”

  She sounded a trifle breathless, and he belatedly realized that he’d tucked her up against him, their faces close together. He could smell the flowery scent of her soap, and for a moment his voice was frozen in his throat.

  Breathe, he reminded himself. She had not pulled away. On the contrary, she’d asked him to finish showing her the constellation, and he wondered if she knew just how much she’d let down her guard. He blessed the sheltering darkness of the night, that she felt safe enough to do so.

  Carefully, he moved her hand, helping her find the princess hidden in the stars.

  “Up so, to her shoulder, do you see?”

  “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.

  He could feel her ribs moving with her breath. Despite his urge to pull her in even closer, he held her lightly, letting her know she was free to step away at any time. Try not to scare her off. Will’s words echoed in his mind.

  But there was a clamor in him, a fierce yearning he’d never felt so intensely before. The longer she stayed in his arms, the harder it was not to turn her about and kiss her until all memory of the stars was burned away.

  It was sweet torture. He could not bear to pu
t her away from him, nor could he act upon his desire. He was Perseus, suspended in the sky, almost touching Andromeda, but unable to brush his lips against hers or tangle his fingers through her hair.

  Miss Strathmore let out a sigh, so forlorn it twisted his heart. She took two steps forward, and he let his hands drop to his sides.

  “Miss Strathmore, why are you still unmarried?” The moment he spoke the words, he wished he could haul them back.

  Her silhouette stiffened against the diamond-dusted sky.

  “I am not fit for it,” she said, all softness gone from her voice.

  “I would argue otherwise.”

  “You know nothing of it. Or of me.”

  She made to go, and he reached toward her.

  “Please, wait,” he said. “At least allow me escort you back to the others.”

  There was a moment of chilly silence, and then she set her hand on his forearm, light as a moth that would take flight any second.

  “You’ve said twice now that I don’t know you,” he said. “And that is true enough. But I would like to become better acquainted.”

  “I’m not the least bit interested in being courted.” She sounded as distant as the stars.

  “Do you not think we might be friends, at least? Just for the duration of the trip?”

  She pulled in a shocked breath, and he hastened to reassure her.

  “I’m not suggesting anything improper, Miss Strathmore. I’m not that type of gentleman. But, as you noted earlier, I am in need of, well, a buffer between myself and Miss Taylor. And you did agree to see the sights of Greece with me.”

  She let out a low breath, and her hand rested a fraction more heavily upon his arm.

  “I suppose I did.”

  It was a small victory, but Gavin was determined to be contented with it. Even he, unskilled as he was at wooing, knew enough to take things one step at a time.

  As soon as Lord Jasper returned Isabelle to the others, she bade them all good night and fled to the safety of her cabin.

  Once she gained that small sanctuary, she lit a single lamp, then sat on her bunk and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her insides whirled with dread.

  This was terrible. History was repeating itself.

  “No,” she said, trying to impose order on the chaos of her thoughts. “I am not smitten with Lord Jasper. I refuse.”

  The words were hollow, and she could not force herself to believe them. In the span of a few minutes, looking at the stars together, something inside her had cracked open, and she had no notion how to repair the armor around her heart.

  She wrapped her arms about herself, as though she could somehow return to the safety of who she had been before the journey.

  I should never have come. Trips to the Mediterranean were her undoing.

  “Isabelle?” Mrs. Hodges stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind her. “What happened?”

  “I looked at the stars with Lord Jasper.” Isabelle caught her breath on something very like a sob. “And it was lovely, and it was horrible, and now I’ve no notion of anything.”

  “Oh, my dear.” There was more sympathy in Mrs. Hodges’s voice than Isabelle had heard there in a long while. “It’s painful to come out of the cocoon.”

  “I feel . . . broken.”

  Her companion nodded and settled beside her, giving her back a pat. “What do you think happens to the chrysalis when the butterfly emerges? It breaks. It is destroyed—but only in the process of becoming something new and better.”

  Isabelle summoned up a crooked smile. “Are you saying I was a worm before?”

  “Of course not.” A note of brusqueness crept back in Mrs. Hodges’s voice. “One can only take a metaphor so far. Just remember, transformation can be an awkward state.”

  Isabelle felt beyond awkward. If she truly were turning into something else—the thought of which was rather terrifying—she could not see what she might become. She felt limp and useless, all her self-assurance gone.

  Mrs. Hodges gave her back one last pat, then stood. “Nothing to do but move forward, eh? I’m for bed, myself.”

  Sleep sounded better than anything else—a warm, dark place for Isabelle to escape to, with no sea, no sky, no stars. No self-possessed lords bewildering her at every turn. Just the comfort of the black.

  Chapter 4

  Gavin was relieved to see Miss Strathmore appear in the ship’s dining room for luncheon the next day, though she did seem paler and more subdued than usual. He deliberated whether or not he should go over to greet her, but in the end he could not help himself.

  “Good day,” he said, pausing at the table where she sat with her companion. “I noticed you weren’t at breakfast, Miss Strathmore. I hope you are feeling well.”

  She looked up at him, her expression reserved, and he missed the customary bright sparkle of her eyes.

  “I am well enough,” she said.

  “Sit, Lord Jasper.” Mrs. Hodges tapped an empty chair with the tip of her umbrella. “Keep us company.”

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Hodges said. “We’d welcome your company.”

  Miss Strathmore glanced at her companion but didn’t protest as Gavin settled across from her at the table.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you last night,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It was never my intention to cause you distress.”

  “You did not.” She lifted her cup of tea as if it were a shield between them.

  “Tell us about yourself, Lord Jasper,” Mrs. Hodges said. “Have you any siblings?”

  “A younger brother, who is at Oxford. He is the scholar of the family. I gather you have a younger brother as well, Miss Strathmore?”

  She nodded. “Richard is studying piano at the Leipzig Conservatory. It keeps him out of trouble.”

  “Barely.” Mrs. Hodges let out a harrumph. “I must say, Lord Jasper, the two of them were nothing but mischief growing up. Riding about bareback like wild savages, creating explosions in the kitchen, digging up the ornamental shrubbery in search of treasure. I scarcely survived the experience.”

  A spark of animation returned to Miss Strathmore’s face.

  “We weren’t as bad as all that, truly. I believe Mrs. Hodges likes to remember only the worst escapades. Have you forgotten the plays we’d put on or the book we spent an entire summer writing?”

  “What was it about?” Gavin asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Why, the adventures of a brother and sister of course, who sailed the high seas, fought pirates—eventually becoming pirates themselves—adventured in America, and finally discovered the lost golden city of a hidden tribe deep in the jungle.” She smiled. “Our cousin Lily helped with the illustrations. It was a magnificent work.”

  “I admit,” Gavin said, “your childhood sounds much more entertaining than my own.”

  Miss Strathmore smiled at him. “Mrs. Hodges would say it was because our parents were too lenient.”

  “Indeed.” Her companion gave her a stern look, but Gavin could see the humor lurking in her eyes. “Verging on the Bohemian—your father, especially. It’s a good thing I was there to infuse a bit of civility into your lives.”

  The servers came around with their meal, and Gavin was glad that no one else joined their table. Mrs. Hodges kept the conversation going with pithy remarks and pointed questions to Gavin about his own parents, his schooling, his interests. It was a grilling of the first degree, but he did his best to turn the same questions back on Miss Strathmore.

  By the end of luncheon, they had, he hoped, moved a bit closer to something resembling friendship.

  As the other diners began trickling out of the room, he took a last swallow of lemon-flavored water and turned to Miss Strathmore.

  “We make port in Athens early tomorrow,” he said. “What time would you like to go ashore?”

  Her smile tilted a bit, and she glanced at her companion. Mrs. Hodges’s arm moved slightly,
and Gavin guessed she was poking her charge beneath the table with her umbrella. For whatever reason, the curmudgeonly companion seemed to have become his advocate, and he was thankful for it. Winning over Miss Strathmore was not going to be an easy task.

  Not that he was going to let that stop him.

  He’d woken at dawn, the surface of the sea turning to liquid gold outside the porthole by his bed. The hazy notion that Miss Isabelle Strathmore was, quite possibly, the right woman for him had solidified overnight into a clear conviction.

  It was difficult to explain why he felt so strongly, and no doubt Will would continue to laugh at him, but Gavin couldn’t help feeling that he’d met a kindred spirit in her. Not only was he deeply attracted to Miss Strathmore, he could envision spending the rest of their lives together. As friends, as helpmates, as lovers.

  They were both wary of love, true, though he was quickly changing his mind where she was concerned.

  He hoped that he could help change hers, as well.

  “I suppose we could go directly after breakfast,” Miss Strathmore said at last. “Before the heat of the day grows too heavy.”

  “An excellent plan,” Mrs. Hodges said. “Join us for that meal, sir, and we can discuss the itinerary. In fact, join us for dinner as well.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  He rose and took his leave, his steps lighter than they had been in years.

  The Acropolis was smaller than Isabelle had expected, hemmed in by the squalor and bustle of Athens, though perched above it on a rocky promontory. There was little shade. Wild thyme clung to the crevices, and scrappy alliums sprouted between the cracks in the rough paving as she, Lord Jasper, and Mrs. Hodges wandered up the path leading to the propylaea—the official gate—located partway up the hill.

  Somewhat to her regret, Miss Primm and Miss Taylor also accompanied them. Lord Weston was along, too, but she did not mind his presence, as he was a helpful buffer. The rest of the party had joined herself and Mrs. Hodges at dinner the night before and had been, perforce, included in the sightseeing plans.