Authors: Andrea Pickens
She had only to apply logic to the problem, she told herself. Her mind set to work. Perhaps a first step would be to find out if any stranger had been seen in the vicinity of the accidents. That was a start, at least. She would write to her aunt's steward first thing in the morning. And she would make a point of questioning Mr. Hartley most thoroughly.
Yes, she would show him she could use her head....
She spotted him as soon as he entered the room. His dark evening clothes were in marked contrast to the brighter colors favored by a majority of the gentlemen present. His eyes seemed to sweep the room and she felt a pinch of disappointment when they didn't so much as pause a fraction to acknowledge her presence. When he moved on and was hidden by the crowd near the punch table she sighed inwardly and forced herself to attend to the last of Mr. Simpson's comments.
"Good evening, Miss Chilton."
Alex whirled around at the sound of the familiar, deep voice.
"My lord." Though she tried to keep her tone neutral, her face came alight with pleasure at seeing him. "Why, where have you been this past week?"
The words popped out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying.
"Ah, has my presence been missed, then?" There was a twinkle in his eye.
She felt a blush stealing over her and ducked her head to hide a rush of embarrassment. "No, of course not — I mean... " she said, struggling to regain her equilibrium. "It's just that I have been wondering about our... business arrangement." She took a deep breath to steady her momentary confusion and was able to continue in a more assured manner. "Well? Have you made any progress?"
"I regret that other matters have prevented me from dealing with your problem. Be assured that I will address it forthwith."
Alex found herself wondering just what had occupied the earl's attention for over a week.
"I trust you have been well?" Branford asked pleasantly, seeming to ignore the awkward interchange that had just taken place.
"Quite." To her consternation, she felt the blush returning. Good lord, she berated herself angrily. She was acting worse than a giddy schoolroom miss. Whatever had come over her?
"Is something wrong?"
Alex's head snapped up. "Why do you ask?"
"Because the scowl on your face would put marshal Nye to rout."
"Oh. Sorry," she mumbled. "I was thinking of something else."
He took her arm familiarly. "Well, I shall endeavor to keep your thoughts turned to less disturbing things than they are dwelling on now. I trust you will allow me the next dance?"
Before she could compose herself for a reply, they passed Justin and a petit brown-haired young lady of not more than average looks but dressed expensively in a figured silk gown of the latest fashion.
"Hello, Alex." Her brother greeted her, then smiled rather shyly at the earl as well. "Good evening, Lord Branford. May I have the honor of presenting my friend, Miss Lockwood."
Branford bowed politely. "Miss Lockwood."
The young lady dipped a hurried a curtsy, then shied against Justin's shoulder. Words seemed to elude her. Justin's hand tightened on her arm in a reassuring manner. He smiled an encouragement at her downcast face before nodding once more to the two of them. Then he guided her out onto the middle of the dance floor.
"I suppose she does not chatter your brother's ear off," remarked Branford dryly.
Alex had to stifle a grin. "Truly, she is not so addlepated as she just appeared. She is much more at home in the country where she is quite content with her life. She does not like London and feels intimidated by all the machinations of the Ton — her parents included."
The earl looked at her questioningly.
"Justin and Anne have known each other for ages and are in love. He would like to offer for her, but her father has bigger plans and won't hear of it. With his deep pockets, he is angling for a title — an earl at least though it appears he may have to be content with a mere baron."
"I see."
Alex sighed. "Yes, that's really the main reason we are here for the Season. Justin can't bear to give her up. Somehow he hopes to change her father's mind. But I fear it is rather hopeless."
Branford frowned slightly as his eyes followed the young couple. He looked as if to say something, then merely compressed his lips and led her onto the floor as well.
Miss Lockwood watched the earl lead Alex out. "How can your sister have the nerve to dance with the Icy Earl?" she whispered to Justin. "Why, I'm terrified just looking at him. So tall and dark and forbidding..."
"Why, Lord Branford isn't at all like what they say," Justin found himself saying. "In fact, Alex finds his company quite enjoyable."
Miss Lockwood looked at him doubtfully. "But it is said he... is ruthless and cold and, well, not a gentleman."
Justin frowned. "Anne, I should hope you would have more sense than to judge someone by what the gossips say." He eyes strayed over to the earl. "I, for one, think he is a great gun."
As the music started, Alex was more aware than ever of the light pressure of Branford's hand at her waist, of the faint warmth of his broad chest, of the strength of his hand around hers as he guided her through the lilting first steps of the waltz. What was the matter with her, she thought? She, who never fell prey to any sort of indisposition, was feeling decidedly odd again — perhaps she should not have had a glass of champagne earlier. That must be it.
"It's back."
Alex started. "What?"
"The frown, Miss Chilton. I fear I am failing in my promise to keep your attention.
"Not at all."
"Why, with that black a look, I should hope I am not in your thoughts."
"Why should you be?" she muttered.
Branford laughed softly. "Why indeed." Then he quickened the tempo, giving neither of them the chance to speak for the rest of the dance.
The musicians put aside their instruments for a short break and people began to drift towards the game room and the refreshments. As Alex and Branford paused to allow an animated group of young couples to jostle their way off the dance floor, a tall, voluptuous blond, her gown cut very low to reveal her obvious charms, motioned her partner to go on while she stopped in front of the earl.
"Why, Sebastian dear, it has been an age." Her fan of hand-painted Chinese silk tapped lightly on his shoulder and she left it there so that her hand remained touching the immaculately tailored black serge.
"Lady Cameron." Branford nodded slightly.
The lady ignored Alex and stepped closer to him. "Lady Cameron, indeed!" she said in a low, throaty voice. "Why, there is no need to be so formal, Sebastian. I do hope you will call at Grosvenor Square sometime very soon." Her thick lashes lowered demurely. "George is off on the Continent with Wellington again and it can be so very lonely without one's special friends."
Branford merely bowed a fraction, and in the process managed to dislodge the hand from his shoulder. "How very rag-mannered of me," he said pointedly. "I don't believe you are acquainted with Miss Chilton."
Lady Cameron's gaze slowly raked Alex from head to toe.
"How delightful," she said, her voice indicating it was anything but. After a slight pause, she added, "I take it you are new in Town. If you would like a recommendation for anything — such as a modiste who is acquainted with the current fashions — I should be happy to oblige." The sneer was barely suppressed.
Alex gritted her teeth to avoid snapping an angry retort.
Lady Cameron unconsciously smoothed the lush figured silk of her exquisite gown. Without another glance at Alex, she turned her attention back to Branford.
"Do not be a stranger. You know you are always welcome. Anytime." With a slight toss of her golden ringlets and one more playful tap of her costly fan, she moved gracefully towards the crowd milling around the punch bowl.
Alex had to stifle the urge to plant a well-aimed kick on the provocatively swaying derriere.
The mood of the evening suddenly changed for her. The glittering lights of the myriad candles seemed too glaring, the scent of the roses too cloying, the notes of the violin too flat, the conversations too shrill.
Her teeth set on edge.
Branford regarded her silently for a few moments. "Are you feeling out of sorts this evening, Miss Chilton?"
Alex was about to let fly with a scathing retort, but instead an entirely different set of words came tumbling out.
"Sometimes I wish I were more like... like a Lady Cameron."
"Don't be an idiot," growled Branford. "You are much too sensible to think such nonsense as that."
Alex was stung by his words. "I know I have neither the beauty nor the gowns,
nor..."
"That is not what I said," snapped the earl.
Alex's chin came up defiantly. "Perhaps I am tired of being sensible. Someone like Lady Cameron has a certain charm..."
"She is little more than a courtesan," interrupted Branford. "She offers her charms quite
freely..."
"Obviously you speak from experience."
"That, Miss Chilton, is most certainly not a topic of conversation open to you." The earl's voice was dangerously soft.
Of course he was quite right, she thought as she turned away from him. But to her consternation, she felt a slight stinging in her eyes.
"Forgive me, my lord," she said coldly. "Naturally you are quite right. Your affairs are none of my concern." Now, if you would kindly return me to my friends, I believe I am engaged with Mr. Duckleigh for the next set."
Branford's mouth set in a tight line as he offered her his arm. They walked across the in stiff silence and parted without a word.
Charles Duckleigh greeted her warmly, throwing a dagger-like look after the earl as his broad back disappeared into the crowd.
"I wish," he added in a low voice, "that you would not allow that blackguard to hover around you so."
"And I wish that everyone would cease advising me on whom I should and should not speak with or what I should and should not do. I am heartily sick of it. I am neither an imbecile nor a child, Charles. At my age, I am perfectly capable of dealing with the Earl of Branford — or anyone else — without suffering any dire consequences."
Her tone was perhaps sharper than she meant, for Charles reddened and began to stammer an apology.
"Alex, I did not mean to imply..."
She laid a hand on his forearm. "Forgive me, Charles, for shrieking at you like a harridan. I fear I have been rather... out of sorts this evening."
Visibly relieved, he straightened his shoulders. "I'm sorry for oversetting you. It is only because... He let his words trail off. "Ah, perhaps you would care to take a walk in the garden instead of dancing?"
Alex nodded gratefully. It seemed like an excellent idea.
The cool evening air felt lovely after the confines of the crowded ballroom. They strolled along a graveled path, admiring the lush plantings which looked even more alluring in the silver wash of moonlight. Alex was so intent on studying a particular bloom of freesia that she didn't notice Charles had slipped his arm around her waist until he pulled her to a stop.