Back Cover Blurb:
"Lady Lettice Durham would love to paint the usual flowers and landscapes that are considered proper. But since her mother's death, her paintings always turn into portraits that transcend what is visible by the human eye. Her brother despairs of her inability to follow convention, and of finding her a husband. She refuses to marry unless she finds a true love who will embrace her unusual gift.
Noel Redgrave, the Earl of Ravenstone, is haunted by memories of the war and the friend he couldn't save. When he agrees to help his friend find a husband for his unconventional sister, Lady Lettice, he is spellbound by the paintings he sees when he comes to call.
When Lettice engages in deception, and Noel falls in love with Lettice's poor relation, will either of them find the healing they so desperately need? Do the answers lie in Lettice's paintings, or in An Earl's Christmas Embrace?"
CHAPTER ONE
London, England
Early December
1816
Noel Redgrave, TheEighth Earl of
Ravenstone,set his empty champagne flute on a table and motioned for his
friend, Evan Durham, the Earl of Foxington, to follow. The two men wove through
the sea of elegantly-clad couples, and Foxington deftly plucked a full
champagne glass from the tray of a passing server. When they reached the ornate
banister in the hallway separating the ballroom from the parlor, Ravenstone
drew Foxington under the stairs to an alcove. The small seating area had been
partially screened with festive ribbons and evergreens, in traditional
Christmas décor. From this vantage
point, Ravenstone could watch any of the young ladies as they glided between
the two rooms, yet he and Foxington could easily converse away from the music
and chatter of the formal areas.
Ravenstonerocked back on his heels
as he took a sip of champagne. “So, Foxington, where is this lovely sister of
yours that lightened our drudgery with her little drawings? You spoke of her
often enough while we were serving together in the regiment.”
Foxington tilted his head. “She is here, but not for you, my friend.
I know you too well. Your dark disposition since Hougoumont would suffocate
her.”
“You weren’t-” Ravenstone checked his reply, as his jaw clenched and
a furrow appeared between his perfectly arched brows.
Foxington replied, “I was there too, old chap, and I have nightmares
of my own. But tonight, I’m putting that aside. I have a duty to my sister, and
I intend to do right by her. I need to
find some newly minted peer who needs an heiress.”
“Ah…I see you are hoping to marry her off in the tradition of our
forebears; arrange everything and then let her know when to be at the church.
Is that it?” Ravenstoneaskedcynically, twirling his quizzing glass from its
ribbon. He glanced over his friend's shoulder, and abruptly drew in his breath,
hoping Foxington didn’t hear his gasp.
The cause of his discomposure paused to admire a vase filled with
Christmas roses, ivy, and holly. She turned her head and, at the sight of her
exposed neck under the soft glow of the chandelier, the quizzing glass fell
from Ravenstone’s fingers.
He let his eyes travel over the tempting curves revealed by her ruby
velvet gown. Under the light of dozens of candles, she looked ethereal. A black
lock of hair curled around her ear. She bent, sniffed the flowers, and gazedup
at him without straightening.
He couldn’t resist looking at the garnet Maltese cross lying nestled
between her breasts, then raising his eyes to meet her regard.Ravenstone’s
pulse skipped to an irregular beat at the vision before him. Her stare was direct
and her eyes very blue. He scanned her face, and paused momentarily on her
small, straight nose, the complete opposite of his own. Her mouth was a
beautiful bow. Pink lips parted slightly, and his gaze lingered as she caught
the plump lower one with her teeth. She blushed and looked away, as if she knew
his thoughts.
The quickening of his pulse was a shock. Perhaps his long latent
passion could still be awakened. Relief at the realization flooded him. He’d
feared that he’d be half a man for the rest of his life. The events of his past
haunted him. It was as if he’d died at Chateau Hougoumont, the prelude to the
great battle at Waterloo. The shame of his infirmity was one reason he was
loathe to marry except as a business arrangement. And even that had to wait
until he could fulfill his husbandly duty and beget an heir.
Thrilled at the realization that he might have hope of a full life,
he knew he should not—but he looked directly at her, longer than was proper.The
moment he raised his eyes from those lips and encountered her sapphire gaze, he
felt alive as never before. It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
“Ravenstone? Are you listening?”
Foxington snapped his fingers in front of Ravenstone's face, as men who were
longtime friends were apt to do.
Ravenstone pinched the humped bridge
of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Er, no, I am
afraid I was distracted.”
“Who or what holds your attention?”
Foxington turned his head about, trying to discern what had Ravenstone’s
consideration. By then, though, the vision in ruby velvet had disappeared into
the ballroom.
“I doubt you would be interested.
What were we discussing?” Ravenstone drawled with exaggerated patience.
“We were discussing my sister and
how I am going to marry her off before the season is over. I could really use
your help, even though I don’t think I’d want you as my sister’s husband. I
won’t marry before her, but she has this blasted notion of marrying for love.
That’s why I need you to help me find a man who can persuade her they have a
love match.”
Ravenstone raised a brow. “Good gad,
man, you can’t be serious. Me, a matchmaker?” He gave an exaggerated shudder.
“Why not?” Foxington asked.
“I, of all people, would never trick a man or woman, for that
matter, into the parson’s mousetrap. I believe you said your sister was rather
difficult. Which, I hate to admit, actually sounds interesting.” Ravenstone
teased as he gave his friend a sideways look.
“Ravenstone, I take this responsibility seriously, even if you find
the situation humorous. Lettice is almost five-and-twenty and is firmly on the
shelf. She’s had no offers to date, and I don’t have a bloody idea what to do
about it.”
“To what do you attribute the
lack? Has she never had a single proposal?” Ravenstone asked when he realized
Foxington spoke in earnest.
“When she made her come out, there were a few. She chased away every
suitor with her rapier tongue and blasted artistic ambitions. She has been
harboring delusions of becoming an illustrator of children’s books, to
complicate matters even further.
“Letty is beautiful and clever, but far too independent. It puts men
off. A peer’s wife is supposed to be biddable, not argumentative and
opinionated. Certainly not engaging in trade.
If only she dabbled in embroidery like a proper lady. I need help finding a man
who will appreciate her intrepid spirit, allowing her to eschew society’s mold.
The older she gets, the fewer chances she will have.
“You know, you owe me a huge favor” Foxington continued, “I saved
your arse from being trampled on The Peninsula. I’m calling in my favor here
and now. Help me find someone suitable for Lady Lettice.”
A muscle tensed in Ravenstone’s jaw, then twitched, and the corners
of his mouth turned white as he considered his friend. “You’re going to play
that card now? You must believe yourself
in dire straits, indeed. Yes, I owe my life to you, but are you sure I can be
of help in this? Your sister sounds like a woman who knows her own mind. I’m
not sure she will appreciate interference from anyone.
"Indeed you insult me by saying you don’t want me for a brother
by marriage, then ask me to find another man for the position. I realize since
that dreadful day at the chateau, I have been described as dark. But dear God,
man! I lost not only one of my best friends, but another went missing, and I
learned I had also lost my father. I dare any man to go blithely along with his
life after experiencing such as that, all in one day.”
Foxington looked at Ravenstone from under his brows. “There are,
apparently, a few things I don’t know, besides Norwich’s disappearing…as if he
fell from this earth.” Foxington murmured.
Ravenstone sighed deeply, “I had to rush back to assume the title.
Yes, there are things of which you are unaware. Deeply personal things,”
Ravenstone continued with a shrug. “I haven’t told anyone. This is neither the
time nor the place for divulging personal secrets, however.”
Ravenstone wiped his face with one hand. “I assure you, your sister is
safe fromthe darkness of my soul. I know very well how to conduct myself in the
presence of a lady, and on my, ehm, questionable
honor, I would do nothing to harm the sister of a good friend."
He drained his glass and rolled his eyes skyward. "At this
moment, I am not searching for a wife, so I really think you should enlist
someone else. I’m rather busy tending to my estate. As you know, my father left
the properties in a right mess, and I’m trying to keep my promise to Scott as
well.”
Foxington nodded, and Ravenstone continued, “We’re all destined to
be leg-shackled eventually, I’m afraid. Nevertheless, when I decide to search
for a wife,she must understand that we will go our separate ways after the
title is secure. Do you want that kind of marriage for your sister? A marriage
of convenience?”
Foxington looked sharply at Ravenstone.
“Truthfully, no, but Letty’s chances of making a love match among the eligible
young men of the ton are becoming slimmer
and slimmer with each passing season. A marriage of convenience might be the
answer to all our prayers. But of course, only if my sister is in agreement. I
won’t force her. That is part of the challenge."
Using the index finger of his right hand,Foxington poked
Ravenstone's sternum. "And you,my friend, might reconsider your position
on marriage once you meet the right lady. When you do, you might very well
change your desire for a marriage in name only.”
“Curious, hearing that from you,
Foxington. One might think you speak from experience. For now, though, let us try
to enjoy this ball. Marriageable ladies have nothing to fear from me tonight. Nobeautiful
woman present shall tempt me.” Ravenstone lied, for he had every intention of
getting to know the mysterious siren in red velvet.
“Regardless, marriage is forthcoming for both of us, Fox,”
Ravenstone said with a sigh, unconsciously using Foxington’s nickname from
their school days. “We both know our duty, and we are men of honor. I’m eight
and twenty, and bone weary. But one thing I know is that my wife will be
someone of maturity who understands that marriage for men of the peerage is a business
arrangement.”
Foxington struggled not to choke on his drink. What was Ravenstone
hiding? He’d have to find a way to get the full story out of him. Perhaps he’d
erred in requesting Ravenstone’s help with Letty. There was apparently much
more in his friend’s past than anyone was aware. Prompted by these troubling thoughts, Foxington asked, “Did you
know they call you ‘The Earl of Darkness’?”
“Do they? I didn’t realize society was so perceptive.” Ravenstone
grimaced into his glass, then set the empty vessel on a small table.
“Come now Ravenstone, I know you better than that. It will just take
some time for you to get back to your old self.”
“I wish I had your optimism, Foxington. Enjoy it. I fear it will
take years for me to be in a marriageable frame of mind. No women for me these
days. I daresay I’d scare them witless.”
Foxington shifted uncomfortably, asking in hushed tones,” Good gad
man, are you saying you’ve been celibate?”
Ravenstone nodded. “Since Hougoumont I haven’t had the desire to be
close to anyone; emotionally or physically. Perhaps, in time, I’ll propose to a
respectable widow of good standing. They know what a man wants in the
bedchamber, understanding that marriage to a peer is about securing the title,
and has nothing to do with the love nonsense a young girl craves. Additionally,
they bring riches which could assist in shoring up a man’s estates.”
“Hmph,” Foxington responded, “Whomever I choose as a husband for
Lettice need not worry about shoring up estates or anything else, for that
matter. She comes with a generous marriage settlement.”
“It seems you are trying to buy your sister a husband. I wonder what
her thoughts would be if she knew your plans for her future.” He looked
pointedly at Foxington. “As I stated previously, I am not interested.”
Ravenstone would make an offer to the woman of his choosing, on his
own schedule. She would accept him, and it would be done. He would do his duty,
as soon as he was able, whenever that was. That was all his heart was capable
of. It would take a miracle for him to make love again.
“All the more reason why I ask your help in finding a husband for my
sister. I must play the matchmaking mama for Letty. Since you are not looking
for a woman of your own, you can help me sort through those in the running for
her hand. A number of our school chums are in the market for a wife. I’m hoping
she’ll catch the eye of at least one of them. Blackwood, perhaps. Letty
catching a duke would be quite the coup d’etat.”
“Leave it alone, Foxington, at least where I’m concerned. You can
plan to outdo the ton by marrying
your sister off to a bloody prince, for all I care. I’ve had enough serious
discussion for one night. I would simply like someone with whom to share a
dance and a light flirtation.” Ravenstonestraightened his shoulders and tugged
at his gloves as though preparing for battle. "Let's go back into the
ballroom and see which of the fine young damsels needs an escort for a dance.
Then I’m for home."
He walked past his friend and nearly collided with an older woman
entering the hall, followed closely by a young girl, apparently in her first
season.
“Ah, Lord Ravenstone.” Thematrongushed. She sported a large plumein
her coiffure which almost pokedRavenstone’s eye as she curtsied before him.
“At your service.”He bowed graciously.
In a single movement the older woman curtsied and pulled her
daughter forward. “Please excuse me, Lord Ravenstone. This is my daughter, Lady
Gwen, who needs a dance partner for this set.”
“A thousand pardons, madam. But I’m already promised. Perhaps later
I shall seek out your daughter, providing there is still room on her dance card.”
“But of course, and thank you, my lord, you are too kind. We shall
be sitting by the far wall nearest the supper room.” For a moment she looked
speculatively toward Foxington, then hustled her daughter away.
Foxington raised a brow. “You must be considered quite the prize.”
Ravenstonetilted his head slightly and his lips pursed. “Hmm, the
thrill of fresh prey, I think. Or
perhaps your scar is more frightening than my reputation.”
“That’s a low blow, Ravenstone, even for you.” Foxington growled
beneath the din as they moved through the entry hall.
Ravenstone continued as if he hadn’t heard Foxington’s response. “I
still can’t believe I let you persuade me to attend tonight. I would gladly
direct the mamas and their daughters toward you. Just say the word. If they
knew the true condition of my estates, they would run. You could wager your
sister’s dowry on it.”
Shooting his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs, he threw a wry glance
Foxington’s way. “Shall we show the young ladies what they’ve been missing?”
“After we find some refreshments.”Foxington replied. “Something much
stronger than the watered down punch, I hope.”
***
Lettice stood on the sidelinesbehind
the festoons of holiday foliage and stared at all the happy couples as they
danced.As usual, the others were thoroughly enjoying themselves, while she
tapped one foot waiting for her brother. He had left her in search of
refreshments some time ago. She’d seena gentleman greet him,and steer him into
the alcove off the foyer. The set was almost over. What could they be
discussing to cause such a delay?
With a sigh, Letty wondered if one
could achieve acclaim for being the most renowned wallflower in the entire city
of London?She reminded herself it was her own fault; she hid from the unwanted
attention of simpering fops with pockets to let, who only wanted her
considerable dowry. She also hid from old men in need of heirs, who were just
looking for a brood mare. She would rather remain a spinster, thank you very
much. Why did society insist she deny her intelligence and aspirations in order
to have a husband and family? Why couldn’t a man appreciate a woman who would
be a true partner, one who wanted to share a relationship that had depth? But
no, it had been the same for every season since her come-out at eighteen years
of age. Here she stood, no longer a novelty on the marriage mart, the shine
worn off after seven years.
Tired of standing in one place,
Lettice decided to stroll into the hall in hopes of reminding her brother he
had promised to fetch her some refreshments. A large floral arrangement gave
her the perfect opportunity to stop in front of the alcove where her brother
and his companion were talking. She stopped and bent to sniff the delicate
scent of the arrangement. Glancing toward the alcove, her eyes were trapped by
the most intense green gaze she’d ever seen. It wasn’t just the color. The
predatory gleam made her bite her lower lip as she felt heat creeping up her
chest toward her cheeks. Thoughts of her brother and refreshments forgotten,
she straightened her spine and moved back into the crowd, intent on regaining
her composure.
Resuming her position at the edge of the ballroom, Lettice’s
thoughts wandered. She wanted a family, longed for one in fact. But she wasn’t
desperate enough yet to trade her
self-respect for a husband and the chance of children. She’d rather be a
spinster than have to conform. And therein lay the problem. Evan was determined
to marry her off before starting a family of his own. At the thought of
preventing her brother from finding happiness she winced.
Her gaze tracked the man who was
emerging from the alcove with her brother, as the men finally made their way
toward the refreshment table. At least, here was a face she’d not seen before. Lettice
considered him the most handsome man to ever grace a ballroom. He stood nearly
six feet tall and was the epitome of masculinity. A lock of his dark auburn hair
had fallen onto his forehead, giving him a rakish air. His shoulders were
broad, tapering enticingly to narrow hips, then to muscled thighs. There was an
aura of command about him, and something else. A melancholy, perhaps. She
supposed he was one of the men Evan knew from the war. They were appearing more
and more lately. She’d known some of them as Evan brought them home during the
holidays. There were six or seven men who had attended Eton with her brother,
then gone on to serve in various units under Wellington.
As she watched the stranger move, her
heart danced—did a jig, more like. He drew her eyes likea lodestone drew metal
filings.Even though she knew hiding behind her fan would be much more ladylike,
she left the delicate shield dangling from her wrist with her empty dance card.
The object of her interest entered
the ballroom, and stopped under the light of a chandelier containing at least one
hundred candles. He caught her watching him and, to her surprise, nodded to
her. She remembered the advice her aunt had given her about dealing with
attractive men. “Look away, Letty. Don’t let them seeyou staring like a
starving girl hungry for marzipan.”
Lettice wet her lips and darted her
eyes at the wallpaper, at the floor—bared and chalked with a pattern for
dancing—and at the flowers in tall vases on the tables. She snuck a glance back
and saw him still watching her. Face hot, she focused on her gloves and tugged
at one fingertip, her heart pounding. Don’t
look, don’t look, she chanted in her head, her throat tight. Her stomach
churned and twisted beneath her corset.
She looked again. She kept her chin
down, lifted her eyes, and stared boldly back at him until he turned to speak
to Foxington.
Lettice shifted slightly when she
saw heroldest friend, Lady Phoebe,wavingher fingers in the air above the sea of
guests which parted before her confident approach.
“What a glorious squeeze. I daresay
it will be as famous as The Richmond Ball.” Phoebe stood close to Lettice’s
side and swept the room with her gaze. “Just imagine! I heard that every
officer in Wellington’s army was at that ball. It is said some even went
straight from the dinner table into battle wearing their dress uniforms! They
must have been so dashing; wouldn’t you agree? Has Foxington ever told you
about it? I wonder how in the world they transformed a coaching warehouse into
a ballroom. I would love to have been there. Have you ever seen such a night,
as this, though? I heard, by the by, that the Lancaster House ball is an utter
bore and most of those attendees are now beginning to arrive here. Perhaps we
will see new faces instead of the usual crowd. It seems as if everyone in the
shire is in attendance.”
Lettice loved Phoebe like a sister,
but could hardly keep up with her chatter and constant change of topics. How could she go on like that without
breathing? It was truly a wonder. One tidbit did catch her attention, though.
Perhaps the Lancaster House Ball was where that gentleman with Evan had been
before arriving here.
“I’m sure Lady Rushmore will be
pleased that her ball is considered the hit of the season. You should tell her
you think it rivals the Richmond Ball. You would be forever in her good graces,”
Lettice suggested.
“Letty, did you see who just
arrived? The Duke of Blackwood! Can you believe it?” Phoebe prattled on, again
barely taking a breath.
“His Grace you say? I dare say it’s
been an age since he’s made an appearance at a ball. Not since his return from
Waterloo, I’m quite sure.”
“Do you know His Grace well then?”
Phoebe asked, her eyebrows rising in perfect twin arcs.
“The gentleman next to His Grace is
Lord Leighton, Earl of Buckwaller. They are friends of my brother from Eaton,
and fellow officers. Just last week they dined with us.”
Glancing toward the men in question
from behind her fan, Lettice’s friend sighed, “You were fortunate indeed to
dine with three such handsome men.”
Lettice nodded absently, “One of
them is my brother, don’t forget that.”
The two new arrivals continued their progress through the crowd
until they were standing in front of the refreshment table, where they greeted
Lettice’s brother and his companion. Phoebe continued her commentary, “Your
brother and his friends are setting the hearts of many young ladies aflutter
this evening. They are hoping to dance with at least one of them, including
Foxington himself.”
Lettice surveyed the room to see if
she could locate the face that already interested her. Her gaze landed on a
group of new arrivals still gathered near the entrance to the ballroom. There
were several officers in red coats, but the object of her quest was not among
them. She scanned the room once more. Ah, there. She poked Phoebe with her fan.
“Phoebe, who is that fourth gentleman
standing next to the punch bowl with my brother?”
There was no mistaking which
gentleman she meant. Phoebe had noticed him, as had every other woman in the
room, judging by the whispers and veiled glimpses cast in his direction.
“I have no idea,” Phoebe said. “Let
me see what I can discover.”
She whispered in the ear of the
woman at her other side, who shook her head and whispered to the woman next to
her.It took no more than a moment for the answer to make its way back to
Phoebe. “He is Lord NoelRedgrave, the Earl of Ravenstone, and a former major in
the regiment. He is unmarried and just returned from the war. He used to be
considered quite the rogue, but that seems to have changed since Waterloo. Many
refer to him as The Earl of Darkness these days, because he has been so serious
and reclusive since his return.”
Phoebebreathed a little sigh as she
stared openly at him. “My, what a magnificent specimen. There is even a rumor
that he captured an eagle, the French battle standard, in Brussels, though
others say the man who truly captured it died while holding it. Either way,
Ravenstone is considered a war hero. If it were not for my lack of fortune, I
would pursue him myself. I notice he keeps glancing in your direction, Letty. I
would recommend him to you as fine husband material, my dear friend. Very fine,
indeed. Speaking of husband material, how is that handsome brother of yours?
Still unattached, I hope.”
***
Excusing herself, Lettice left the
ballroom and considered the myriad offerings beautifullydisplayed in the dining
room. The table setting was opulent, a huge epergne full of hothouse flowers
surrounded by four silver candelabra, sporting five branches of beeswax candles
each. Above the floral arrangement hung a chandelier with tier upon tier of
candles reflecting off crystal pendants. Pristine white tables linens of hand
woven Brussels bobbin -lace ran down the center of the table. Gleaming silver platters offered every type
of delicacy she’d ever seen. At one end of the table, candlelight flickered in
the facets of the cranberry-glass punch bowl, surrounded by matching cups that
beckoned revelers to quench their thirst.
She was just requesting some lemonade of the server,when her stomach
growled in protest. Embarrassed, she declined the drink, moved along the table
to select a morsel from the selections on the trays, and caught the scent of
succulent citrus-glazed ham further on.
Turning her attention to the small
dining tables scattered about the adjoining parlor, she looked for someone she
knew with whom she could sit to eat her supper. Once again, almost against her
will, she spotted the extraordinary auburn-haired man leaning against one of the
pillars not far from the buffet.
His appearance was faultless. His
hair gleamed like burnished copper under the lighted candles. His cravat was snowy-white
at his neck, his black coat fitted across his wide shoulders to perfection, and
his formal blackknee breecheswere snug above well-formed, silk clad calves.
But underneath the clothes…?
Oh, she should not be thinking such thoughts!Underneath those clothes he would
doubtless be flawless.
He started forward, knocking into
someone’s elbow, and mutteringsomething in absent-minded apology.Lettice hid a
smile, this time employing her fan. He kept walking, knocking elbows,and
whispering polite excuses as he went, his stare fixed on her sky-blue eyes.Her
heart thudded in time with his steps. She felt like a lynx being stalked by a
tiger. Perhaps she’d better sharpen her claws, her wits.
When he drew nearer, Lettice turned
and pretended to study the buffet.
“You should partake of the lobster
cakes. I am told they are of the finest quality.” His breath brushed her cheek,
like a tiger’s hungry pant, his voice rumbling, like a low growl. A shiver , ran down her spine.
“Allow me to serve you, my lady.”
She had been told more than once to
avoid the company of any gentleman to whom she had not been properly
introduced. If she continued this conversation, her reputation would be
irreparably damaged. But what did she really have to lose? She was already
firmly on the shelf. She was so tired of convention.
Nevertheless, she looked up, again taken in by his handsome profile.
“Sir, you mustn’t speak to me unless we have been formally introduced.”
He kept his gaze averted, and
Lettice grew impatient for his reply.
His expression remained serious,and he
nodded slightly. “I believe we have a mutual acquaintance in your friend, Lady
Phoebe Collins,” he replied,taking a small plate, serving himself some of the
lobster cakes.
She noticed a mischievous look came into
his eyes and his mouth curved seductively.
“That is strange, since I asked her
about you earlier, and she did not know who you were.” She looked at him
pointedly.
“You’ve been asking about me,” he
said, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly before he carefully blanked his
features. “She and I were introduced just moments ago. If anyone asks, we could
certainly claim a mutual acquaintance.”
“Then perhapsLady Phoebe should
introduce us in truth,” she said, as she extended her hand. Lettice expected
him to bow over it, but instead he surprised her by kissing it. She felt the
warmth of his lips through the supple kid leather of her glove. He was certainly very direct in his pursuit.
His eyes sparkled shamelessly once again as he straightened.
Thinking of her reputation, she scanned the crowded room, hoping none of the
gossipmongers, young, old, or otherwise, had noticed what just transpired. Her
shoulders visibly relaxed as she observed most of the women clustered in groups,
engaged in conversations directed away from the buffet table. Her reputation
remained safe. For the moment.
“Sir, please unhand me,” Lettice uttered. She tried to tug her hand
free with a gasp of outrage. She uttered sotto
voce, “Release me immediately!”
“Why should I? If anyone should approach us, I’ll say I’m an old
friend, introduced by Lady Phoebe long ago, and could not wait to re-acquaint
myself with you since returning from the war.”
“Really?” Lettice thinned her lips before prevaricating,“You have me
at a disadvantage, as I have no idea with whom I am speaking.”
“Lord Noel Redgrave, The Earl of Ravenstone, delighted to make your
acquaintance.” He bowed low.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance
as well, my lord.” Lettice gave a small curtsy, but he made things difficult
for her by continuing to hold her hand. Finally, she summoned all her
self-control and managed to wriggle her hand free.
Lord Ravenstone studied her. “I
regret to say Lady Phoebe did not tell me your name.”
“I should like to remain anonymous.” She smiled and turned her head
to peer up at him.
He stepped closer, and his breath
fanned her hair again. She tilted her head to gaze into his gorgeous green eyes.
As green as her most treasured emerald earrings, deep and dark.
“Then Lady Anonymous you shall remain…for now.” He returned her
smile. “Promise you shallbe available when I ask you to dance.”
She should put the impertinent man in his place immediately. Did he
actually expect her to hold every dance open just in case he might request one?
In truth, she was not exactly fighting off partners. Although she found him
irresistible, she did not want to appear desperate.
“You must claim your set now, my
lord; my dance card is sure to be in high demand.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Once in my
arms, you’ll not want to partner with another.”
Handsome
bounder. He most certainly had a way about him. “But you know we can only
share one set, more than that would cause a scandal.”
“Very well then. One set. Tonight.” His gaze quickly searched the
room, as he informed her, “There is a vacant table to your left. If you hurry
you can find suitable seating, just over there.” He handed her a plate filled
with several gourmet selections from the buffet, lifting his chin toward the
vacant table. He winked and whispered, “I heard your stomach rumbling.”
He scrawled his name on her dance
card and prowled away from her as silently and mysteriously as he had approached.
Lettice was both attracted and intrigued by his behavior. He certainly acted interested
in getting to know her. He had actually been choosing delicacies for her rather
than himself. She’d never been served by anyone other than her family’s
servants. At least she knew that he wanted to spend some time with her, and she,
for her own part, could not think of another whose arms she’d rather feel
around her. Unbeknownst to him, he wouldlikely be her only partner this
evening.
She decided to keep her identity
secret from him as long as possible. How else could she determine if he were
truly interested in her, rather than
the huge dowry Evan was offering? Besides, it would give her the chance to take
risks she daren’t as Lady Lettice Durham.
***
Ravenstone was mesmerized by the sounds of the orchestra. Thoughts
of the Richmond Ball came to mind. What a joyous occasion it was at the outset.
Would he have enjoyed it less if he’d known what was about to transpire? Would
he have behaved differently; flirted less with the elegantly dressed ladies,
and spent more time with men who would soon be killed in battle?The sound of a throat
being cleared pierced his thoughts.
Turning slightly at a tap on his shoulder, Ravenstone, found himself facing a short,
round-bellied man abruptly launching into conversation. “I thought I might find
you here, Lord Ravenstone. Taking a break from dancing, I see. I must confess
if I hadn’t run across you this eve, I was planning to pay you a call later in
the week.”
Falling back on the training of a
lifetime and extending his hand, Ravenstone
said, “Lord Stevens, good evening. How do your wife and daughters
fare?"
“Very well thank you. My eldest is
in a delicate condition. We expect a blessed event shortly before the New
Year.”
“Congratulations.” Ravenstone’s
voice was somber as he raised his glass in salute.
Lord Stevens cleared his throat once
again. “I have given serious thought to your proposed charity and would very
much like to become a patron. How are your plans progressing?”
Ravenstone took a sip of brandy. The
liquid slid down his throat “Arrangements are developing nicely, thank you.” He
set his glass down. “Since we last spoke, I have conferred with my father’s
trustees and have opened a bank account specifically in the name of my
foundation. It shall be called ‘The War Eagle Foundation for Widows and
Orphans.’ Your patronage is greatly appreciated, Lord Stevens. Please thank
Lady Stevens as well. Her kind offer of arranging a ball to benefit the cause
will indeed contribute substantially to our efforts.”
Lord Stevens raised his eyebrows,
nodded, and lifted his glass in salute. “Very well, then, I shall have my wife
confer with Lady Jersey about how best to proceed with the preparations.
Hopefully, we shall raise ample funds for Captain Scott’s widow and children,
and establish a source of aid for others in similar situations. What a tragedy
that he died after capturing the eagle. A true war hero.”
Ravenstone nodded solemnly. “Agreed,
my lord. As a younger son, Captain Scott had limited means. With his last
breath he begged a promise that I’d care for his wife and children. This foundation
will benefit people from all walks of life who have been left in dire straits
by the atrocities of the war. You have my direction if I can be of assistance.
Now if you will excuse me, I’m promised for this set.”
Where You Can Find Diane
Dario:
