Suzi Love (17 page)

Footmen offered them glasses of chilled champagne and as Aunt Aggie had gravitated towards her many friends, the girls were happy to accept their drinks. Aggie stayed in contact with dozens of her well-placed friends, even though their strained financial years, retained many friends amongst the social elite. Soon after their arrival, she became embroiled in a heated discussion over the most eligible bachelor of the season.

“Soon the orchestra will play for dancing,” Lottie announced.

“Which means men will gather around you like bees to a honey pot, Lottie,” Laura remarked.

“Which also means a perfect opportunity for you to quiz them about the baron,” Becca added. “Michael can’t delay the consortium much longer. The last names on our list are almost confirmed but we need absolute proof that the baron and his friends are the main organisers of the fraud. And we still don’t know which man murdered Peggy.”

“I’ll try again with Lord Dermott and Mister Foster, but every time I mention the baron, the gentlemen exchange speaking glances, become tight lipped and scurry away like scared mice.”

Laura nodded, knowing she should feel grateful to be here at such a sumptuous ball. Other young women were joyous when shown the slightest attention from handsome men and since Cayle announced that three eligible sisters were on the marriage market, men had flocked to their sides. On cue, Lord Dermott arrived just as the orchestra struck up and requested the first dance with Lottie while friends drew Becca away. Watching her sisters, Laura knew the end of this continual social whirl would come when they solved the problem of the consortium.

Unfortunately for Becca, her days spent in the company of Cayle would also end. Despite her protests to the contrary, Laura was certain Cayle once more enthralled Becca. Tonight, Cayle accompanied his stepmother, having explained during their afternoon walk that it was necessary for him to continue to escort Julia. As soon as Julia disappeared to the card room he would find them, or rather Becca. They’d started to depend on the appearances of the St. Martin brothers in their daily life. To look forward to them.

A short time later, Laura paced at the side of the ball room while still keeping near Aunt Aggie for respectability sake, gnawing her bottom lip with her teeth in a fashion that if her chaperone turned around, would make her shudder.

“Where the hell is Becca?”

Aunt Aggie leaned closer. “Did you say something, dear?

With a fixed smile, Laura addressed her aging aunt and her equally ancient friends. “No, I was simply thinking out loud.”

“Well, my girl, you would do better to leave your thinking for later and attract the attention of one of those handsome, young gentlemen standing near the door. I expect that with a teeny bit of encouragement, they’ll be vying to stand up for the next set with you.”

Laura muttered something that her aunt took for wholehearted agreement. It was in fact an observation that those gentlemen looked ready to bolt for their clubs as soon as they’d survived the hours required by their mothers or sisters at this, another boring event. Despite her glare, one of them approached. The rail thin and extremely tall gentleman Laura didn’t recognise passed by her aunt and then, when close behind Laura, pressed something into her hand. Startled, she opened her mouth to speak but he continued right by as if nothing had happened. Not knowing what to think, she slipped the note into her reticule and made an excuse to slip away to the retiring room for privacy.

Nodding and speaking to several acquaintances delayed her and then in frustration, she had to wait until the room emptied. She pulled out the note and read. “Tell your brother he has only three days to gather the remaining information we require. If he fails to deliver, harm will befall his entire family, commencing with his pretty sisters.”

Laura pushed aside her shock and rushed back to her aunt’s chair. “Aunt Aggie,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned. “Is Becca dancing?”

“She became a trifle overcome with the heat. His Grace kindly took her to the door for a breath of air. I’m sure she’ll return in a moment.”

Laura disagreed but smiled and murmured her thanks. If Becca was with Cayle, chances were they were outside, possibly alone, so it wouldn’t do to bring attention to that fact. Sidling along the wall, she escaped to the doors, hoping no one would notice. Just as she slipped backwards out the open door, she slammed up against a body and judging from the rigid strength she felt, a male body.

“Damn!”

“A word I’d not thought to hear from a young lady this evening.”

Turning, she faced the large immovable object blocking her exit. “If you would be so good as to move aside, I’m in urgent need of fresh air.”

He smirked at her before he moved a scant six inches to the side, knowing full well that to pass she would be forced into close contact with his large, muscular body.

Giving him her fiercest glare, Laura said, “If you could just shift a little more to the left, I would be grateful.”

“How grateful? Grateful enough to grant me your name?”

“My name is none of your business, you knave. Now step aside at once.”

“Your obvious desperation to escape the ball has me curious. Why would a young lady be slipping into the garden alone? Ah! Perhaps you are meeting a lover.”

Furious at being detained, Laura glared up at the man towering over her. Now that she could distinguish his features better, she realised he was not only a giant to her demure size, he was also the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

Becca preferred men of the tall, dark, and mysterious bent but Laura was drawn to the more traditional idea of handsome. Fair-haired English gentlemen with lithe figures and blue eyes, conservative dress, and a flair for flattery. The man standing in front of her, practically on top of her, was none of these things.

In colouring, he favoured the St. Martin men, dark hair and eyes. Studying him more closely, she discovered that he not only had Cayle’s height and breadth of shoulders but his air of proud self-assurance as well. Eyes that were nearly as black as Cayle’s regarded her steadily, waiting for the moment she finished her perusal of his form and looked up to connect with his gaze once more.

• • •

The gentleman waited in amused silence until Laura completed her inspection. Watching her, Winchester concluded this was no simpering or blushing miss inspecting him so carefully. Her eyes were not quite as dark as his but more the brown of an oak nut. Her regard was shrewd, as if she was studying some rare species of animal and must remember every detail to be later copied into a science manual. Neither did she have the brazen look of the married women who pursued him at these affairs, Sybila being a case in point. She was the reason he himself used the gardens as a means of escape until such time as he would have performed his duty and could reasonably excuse himself.

He’d next visit either one of his clubs or the house of his mistress. Despite the fact that he was bored with his current mistress after only a single month, the prospect of being trapped by Lady Sybila, and he used the term lady loosely, was even worse. As an older brother to several sisters, all coming of marriageable age, he performed his duty for the first half of most evenings by escorting them to the numerous balls and soirees they routinely received invitations to because of their revered family name and titled connections. Now the chit had finished her scrutiny, she seemed even more desperate to escape. On her dramatic features, he clearly read her indecision as to whether she would be rude and push past him or if she should return to the ballroom before her absence was noticed.

He couldn’t help himself. He taunted her simply to see how she would react. “Indeed, quite a dilemma. Do you try to slip by me without coming into contact with any part of my body, a scandalous interaction considering we’ve not been introduced, or do you abandon whichever gentleman awaits you beneath the terrace? An agonizing choice. Which is it, my dark beauty?”

She gnawed her pouting bottom lip while she considered the impasse he’d deliberately generated. By now, she was running out of time. Whoever awaited her would become impatient.

“Damn,” she repeated, louder this time. He raised a brow in question.

“Sir, I require your assistance for the next hour. But you may not ask any questions.”

Good gracious. The chit actually thought to give him orders. Of course she had no idea of his identity, or of his reputation. His father had raised him to believe that the females of his family were to be cosseted, whether they appreciated his efforts or not. For the most part, his sisters chafed against what they called his excessive meddling in their daily lives and often chastised him for being conceited and overbearing.

But as they were family and he loved them dearly, he accepted that women should be allowed claim a modicum of control over their own lives. He would be the first to accede that his sisters were all extremely intelligent women. Mama had insisted upon it. She’d reviled weak willed women, believing all young ladies should have enough nonce to arrange their own lives to some extent.

As a kindness, he allowed his sisters the illusion of making their own decisions yet, behind the scenes, the reins remained tightly in his own gloves. Which, by the unwritten code of ethics of his immense family, was how it should be.

Amazed yet intrigued at the brashness of this girl, he countered, “You expect me to render assistance to you, a young lady I have not been formally introduced to, without you volunteering any information to me?”

“Yes, exactly. Now, come along. We have no time to waste.”

Taking his arm, she attempted to move him from his intractable stance in the doorway. Irritated and frustrated, she glared up at him once again.

“Sir, you’ll need to move. Quickly. Before he escapes.”

“Before whom escapes from where? I’m going nowhere without at least that much information.”

“Very well,” Laura snapped. “A gentleman slipped a note to me in the ballroom but I was unable to identify him or give chase.”

“Give chase?”

“Yes. It would be unseemly for a woman to rush through a crowded ballroom without an escort. But with you on my arm, it will pass for a leisurely stroll with an acquaintance.”

“Ah, but we’re not acquainted.”

“Oooh! You are the most difficult man I’ve ever met.”

“Careful, my lady, if you want my assistance you may want to temper your contrariness.”

“My contrariness? You’re the brute who refuses to budge an inch.”

“Ah, now I’m a brute?”

She smiled up at him with overdone sweetness, even going so far as to flutter her eyelashes. “My good sir, would you be kind enough to escort me for a stroll around the room.”

“Good God! You look even more dangerous when you are trying to sweet talk me.”

“I’ve no need to sweet talk anyone. Ever.”

He hid a grin. She was probably correct. With her looks and her determination she probably had half the toffs of the ton following her around like lap dogs. “It’s high time you learned. Tell me your name at least or I’m not moving.”

Bowing his head to hide his amusement, he waited while she held an inner debate. Obviously, the time factor won the argument for him as she acceded to his request with a sigh of reluctance. A gloved hand flashed out at him. The chit couldn’t be more haughty if she tried and he was sure she wasn’t trying to be irritating but showing her natural nature.

“I am Lady Laura Jamison.”

Memory assailed him. “Ah, of course you are. The middle one of the Jamison sisters.”

Faltering a little at his unexpected recognition, she inquired, “You know of my family?”

“I do. I’m second cousin to Sherwyn. We used to visit your house with him. I remember a trio of hoydens — ”

“Hoydens!” Dark eyes glinted with menace as her nose rose higher in the air. “My sisters and I were merely a trifle energetic in our youth.”

“Energetic! You created mayhem everywhere you went.”

Narrowing her gaze, she fixed him with her dark stare, one obviously intended to make grown men quake in their boots. He ignored it. “And now that you’re past your youth, you still don’t seem to behave as a well-bred young lady should.”

“Ah, I now remember the uncouth family members Cayle used to have tagging after him. You’re the infamous Earl of Winchester. Your scandalous exploits haven’t improved with age, my lord.”

Hiding his annoyance at being known for a few slightly scandalous escapades when he was younger, he felt a change of subject necessary before she had the audacity to speak of other topics he’d rather leave in the distant past.

“So, to return to your urgent problem, you need me as a decoy while you hunt for an unknown man. What was in the note he gave you?”

“I can’t tell you that. Trust me when I say that it’s a matter of life and death to not only my family, but yours as well.”

“Now, I’m intrigued.” He considered the matter for a moment before making a decision. “Very well. You’ll call me Richard and we’ll stroll the room and if asked, we’ll say that my cousin reintroduced us, as we’re old family friends.”

“Thanks goodness you are finally over your obstinacy. Becca must be warned that one of the men who’s been following us, threatening her, is right here amongst us. In this room.”

Placing her hand lightly on his arm, she once again urged him forward. He could never remember being led around by a female in quite the same way before. Usually it was he who did the leading, on his terms, in his own time. But this elfin creature demonstrated gigantic assuredness as she marched him around the perimeter of the dance floor, made a rapid assessment of the figure of every gentleman and with a few muttered words passed on.

“Far too short. Too fat. Too limp.”

A snort escaped him at that description of Frederick Bundall, who considered himself the epiphany of fashion, his lithe form the mould for all the gentleman of London to copy. Being described as limp would send him to his bed for a week.

Being led around the room like a boy in short pants was such an unusual occurrence for him, he decided it was the most fun he had encountered at a ball since he and his cousins had added six frogs to the punch. The incredible beauty on his arm seemed totally oblivious to the envious looks flashed in his direction from practically every gent they passed. Nor did she seem to notice the waves of annoyance and almost hatred emanating from most of the young ladies present.