A Marriage Made in Mayfair (2 page)

“No,” Royce said. “A marriage made in Mayfair.”

With a curt nod, his solicitor slapped on his hat, tapped the top, and left.

Royce leaped up the stairs and sauntered toward his living quarters. The old codger had finally proved worthy. The idea of courting an heiress was just what he needed. Perhaps his brother would follow suit and marry one as well. Then at least George wouldn’t be pulling on his coat tails every week for more coin.

The thought of never being plump in the pocket again sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine. All the Dannings before him, generations of wealthy English lords, would rise up from their graves in protest should he fail to marry well and lose his estate.

Well, he wouldn’t allow such a thing.

He would find a woman, marry her, and ensure that his family’s future was secure.

Royce pulled at his cravat and rang for his valet, his thoughts absorbed with the guests due to arrive at his home for the ball tonight. Those of the highest peerage with money enough to please the monarchy would attend. Surely a wife could be found amongst the pretty women who will undoubtedly fall at his feet.

Begging to be his countess and wife.

Chapter Three

Suzanna nodded her thanks as she passed a flute of champagne to her friend. The ball was a crush, full to the brim with the
ton’s
highest patrons, many of whom looked down their noses at the young heiress.

“It’s extremely warm in here tonight,” Victoria said, fanning herself with a silk fan that matched her dress. “I believe I may have to walk the terrace soon, or I’m certain I may faint.”

“Do you intend to walk out there alone?” Suzanna laughed at the crimson blush that stole over her friend’s cheeks.

“No, I’ll have you by my side.” She gestured toward the card room door not far from where they stood. “I see Viscount Danning is extremely dashing this eve. Never have I seen such a fine piece of masculinity within the
ton
, if I may say so.”

Suzanna gazed over at the man she had followed like a ninny hammer last season. She threw him a baleful glare she hoped pricked his senses and hurt every fibre of his being. Not that he was looking her way, of course. Seemed nothing had changed in the year she’d been away. Being from trade, as she was deemed, wasn’t of course worth admiring. “Yes.” Suzanna took a sip of her drink. “He seems as stiff and as cold as ever.”

Victoria chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. I think he seems...kind of sad tonight as if he’s lost his best friend, or some such.”

“I didn’t know Lord Danning was capable of having a best friend.”

“Oh, Suzanna, you are too cruel.”

Something in her friend’s tone made her senses bristle. “I didn’t know you cared a fig what Lord Danning felt.”

Victoria blushed an even darker shade of crimson and waved her remark aside. “No, of course I do not. He is nothing to me. I was merely making a general observation.”

Suzanna turned her gaze back to his lordship and wondered what had caused this sullen frown on his normally attractive features.

“And anyway, to term Lord Danning as cold and stiff is a little cruel. From memory I believe you named him the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour last season.”

Suzanna inwardly cringed at the reminder. “I may have had such a ridiculous notion last year, but my thoughts are much altered this season, as you well know. I certainly do not think him so now.”

Victoria touched her arm in a comforting gesture before her eyes widened and sparkled with joviality as she spied someone over Suzanna’s shoulder. “Oh, here comes your brother. Do I appear well enough?”

“You are as beautiful as always,” Suzanna said, as she turned toward her elder sibling.

With a sweeping bow, Henry took Victoria’s hand then kissed his sister’s cheek. “May I say how beautiful you both look this eve, Suz, Lady Victoria.” Her brother’s gaze settled on Victoria with a twinkle in his dark green orbs.

She tittered, and Suzanna wondered when her brother would get up the nerve to ask her dearest friend to marry him. Assuming she would be allowed to marry into gentry, one generation away from trade. Victoria, after all, was an earl’s daughter.

“What brings you to our side, Henry? Come to sweep your wallflower sister from her seat and dance with her?”

“Of course I will dance with you, after I escort the delightful Lady Victoria out for the next set.”

“I would like that very much, Mr. March,” Victoria said.

Henry threw a smile over his shoulder as they walked away. Alone, Suzanna sipped her drink and watched the dancers twirl and laugh on the ballroom floor. Many of the gentlemen here tonight had looked her way, but were yet to venture to her side. She checked her gown and touched her hair, making sure she didn’t have anything out of place. Her Aunt Agnes smiled and waved from her situation, not a few seats away.

Suzanna smiled back and hoped she didn’t disappoint her aunt with another disastrous season. Henry and she owed everything to their father’s only living sister. After the tragic death of their parents in a carriage accident, Aunt Agnes had come to live with them and raised them as best she could.

Suzanna supposed her awkwardness in the
ton
could be due to the fact their aunt had grown up the daughter of a farmer and had never ventured into society. Not until Suzanna’s father had made the sound investment in mining did the family start to move in different circles than those to which they were accustomed.

She looked at her Aunt Agnes and a lump formed in her throat. Her aunt also sat alone, preferring to speak little lest she say something that would cause strife for her charge. Love for the woman surged through Suzanna, and she promised herself this season would be different.

The humiliating memory of the Coots ball, when she’d walked from the retiring room with her gown askew, and showing enough ankle to make her red hair pale in comparison to her complexion, made her inwardly cringe.

What a horror last year’s season was, certainly one to forget, and never to repeat. Surely after many months of learning to be a lady of the highest calibre she could manage to dance with someone other than her brother, and make her aunt happy.

“Good evening, Miss March.”

Anyone, but him
.

Suzanna swallowed a sip of champagne and watched Lord Danning bow, his dark gaze smiling up at her before he straightened. Her own narrowed.

“Evening, Lord Danning.”
And I’m not at all in favour of speaking to you, you obnoxious rake, so please go away
!

“I hope you are well this eve, Miss March, and enjoying the ball?”

Suzanna barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes in disinterest at his contrived conversation. “I was enjoying it very well, my lord.”
Until a minute or so ago
.

Lord Danning’s lips twitched as if he understood her meaning. “I heard you travelled abroad over the past year?”

Suzanna pulled at the hem of her glove and met his lordship’s gaze. “Yes, to Paris.”

“You are much changed since I saw you last,” Lord Danning said, handing her a glass of champagne and taking her empty one without hesitation.

“I suppose you mean I’m no longer dressed like a disaster and my hair actually meets current fashion requirements.”

He coughed. “I beg your pardon. Have I said something wrong, Miss March?”

Suzanna glanced at his immaculate attire with loathing. Damn the man to look perfect in every way. With very little effort, he always seemed able to appear pristine and relaxed. Yet Suzanna had to hire a French maid and take endless classes on deportment just so she could appear half respectable in society. She gritted her teeth at the vexing thought.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I cannot understand why you are here talking to me. All you wished to say was more than adequately said last season, if I recall.”

The colour drained from Lord Danning’s face, leaving him a pasty shade of white. “Forgive me, Miss March. I was merely being polite. This is my ball, if you recall, and I do try to keep up with my duties as the host.”

Suzanna smiled with no warmth behind the gesture. “Oh, I’m sure you were, my lord, but where your manners are concerned I care not.”

“You’re angry with me.” Lord Danning paused, his gaze speculative. “Why?”

“Why!” Suzanna shook her head at his question. Obviously, she was so unremarkable that their conversation in this very ballroom last year had been forgotten. “Perhaps you should seek out those who desire your company. I am not one of them.”

He steered her behind a potted palm and hid her from the watchful eyes of the
ton
. Suzanna strove to calm her beating heart as the man she had longed for, wanted to kiss just once only months before, stared down at her with an emotion she could not place.

“You have changed not only your looks, Miss March. You seem to have procured a hatred for me while in Paris along with an uncommonly rude mouth.”

Suzanna shut her gaping,
rude
mouth with a snap. “Rude, my lord? It is not I who is being rude. A gentleman who indicates he finds a woman’s inner strength of character repulsive is the one being rude. Why don’t you just admit you do not care for a woman who does not swoon at your feet, pining for a proposal of marriage?”

“I may have stated your mouth was uncommonly rude, but I did not say I found it repulsive, Miss March. If you would care to accompany me out to the terrace, I could show you just how non-repulsive I find your person.”

Suzanna’s feet, with a will of their own, stepped toward the terrace doors. Had she not wanted to have such a tryst with him last season? To kiss Lord Danning would be a dream come true. Heat stole up her neck at the resounding chuckle behind her before footfalls followed close on her heels.

The cool night air was a welcome balm when she stepped free of the ballroom crush. Strong fingers clasped her upper arm and pulled her toward a darkened stretch of the terrace.

An inner voice screamed at her to break free from his grasp and flee. Run as fast as she could from this bounder. But she would not. She would show the high and mighty Lord Danning what he had turned down and walked away from without a second thought. Tonight, it would be her opportunity to do the walking away. Excitement thrummed through her like a drug at the thought of her revenge, shallow as it was.

“You are very beautiful tonight,” he said, coaxing her to sit on a stone seat hidden within an ivy-clad alcove.

“I do not need your praise, my lord. If you’re going to kiss me, it would be wise to do so now before I return to the ballroom.” Suzanna stiffened her spine and met his smiling gaze. He wouldn’t be laughing for long.

“Last season, when I first saw you, ribbons and frills flying about you, I could not take my eyes from you.”

Suzanna smiled and ran her hands up the lapels of his coat and noted the darkening of his eyes. “Because of the fright I made?”

“No,” he said, his attention fastened on her lips before slipping lower and admiring her person. “Because I saw the woman beneath all that decoration and knew I wanted her.”

Suzanna clamped her jaw and raised his chin with one finger to bring his eyes back level to hers. “Why is it I find such words false, Lord Danning? Your actions and words last season spoke otherwise,” she said in an accusing tone.

He shushed her and shifted her finger from his chin to his lips. Heat stole into her belly as his sinful lips kissed the tip of her finger, and her argument was lost to flame. Never had she experienced such a thing with a man, and as dreadfully wicked such a thought was, Suzanna couldn’t help but wish for more of the same.

“They are the truth, whether you choose to believe them or not.”

“Perhaps, my lord,” she said, as she reclaimed her hand from his. “It is because you termed me from trade last season and not someone you wished to associate with, even as a friend.”

How the memory of his hateful words hurt still. She beat back the urge to run, to get as far from this rogue as she could. To go to a place he could never hurt her with his lofty airs and opinions.

Never would she allow anyone to belittle her as he had, no matter their rank. Anger over the memory spiked her lust, and revenge simmered to a boil within her.

Lord Danning would pay.

Without hesitation, his lordship skimmed his lips against her throat, eliciting a sigh from Suzanna. Butterflies took flight in her belly, and her toes curled in her silk slippers.

“I do not recall mentioning your father’s business dealings, Miss March. Are you certain I spoke so reprehensibly to you?”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh, before clearing her throat. “Yes,” she repeated, more strongly. “You did. And if they were not your exact words, it was what you implied.”

“What am I implying now?”

Suzanna swallowed a moan and took her bottom lip between her teeth when his tongue slid up her neck, and he gently nibbled on her earlobe.
Oh dear, she should stop him now before they went any further
. Her fingers curled about his lapels, pulling him closer. Lavender soap permeated the air along with a smell that was wholly Lord Danning, intoxicating and all male.

“You have the most exquisite skin, Miss March,” he said, shifting closer and turning her toward him.

Suzanna’s mouth dried when his hand clasped her hip, the silk of her gown no impediment to his ardent touch. His grasp slid downward to span her thigh where he lifted her leg slightly to sit higher against his own. It left her feeling open and vulnerable, and wholly excited.

Damn him
.

“I want to kiss every inch of your skin.”

A flush of heat rose under her gown with the thought. “I hope you are not planning to do such a thing here, my lord.”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “But perhaps we may find another secluded alcove where you will grant me such favours.”

Suzanna shook her head. “I do not think so, my lord.”

“Just a kiss then?” he asked, pulling back and staring at her. His gaze glistened with challenge in the dim light.