“Brook Meylan, Countess of A’Court.”
She held her breath as the servant announced her. There were a few curious glances, but the activity in the ballroom continued indifferent to her arrival. The orchestra had not ceased playing. The guests who were engaged in conversation or dancing had not frozen into statues. Nor had the walls of the ballroom crumbled into dust. Everything seemed ordinary. The relief she felt was almost intoxicating.
Waiting for her parents to be announced, she noticed Ham had arrived before them. He lifted a hand in greeting. He said something to his companions and then worked his way to her side.
“Cousin,” he said, marveling at her appearance, since he was still unused to seeing her in anything but her dull widow colors. “You are enchanting. Pray tell me that no one has claimed your first dance.”
Thrilled by his reaction, she curtseyed. “No one has asked, my lord. You are the first.”
His gray eyes glinted in delight. “I would be granted my fondest wish if I could claim all of your first dances, my lady.”
Not giving her a chance to respond to his bold hint at wanting her for his bride, he pulled her closer and began guiding her away from the entrance.
“Ham, my mother and father—” She looked back to see if
they had appeared. Lord Haslake had delayed Mr. Ludlow by asking him questions about a mutual acquaintance.
“Your parents are not expecting you to remain at their side all evening. Besides, we have had little time these last few weeks.”
“My lord, I am aware that you have obligations that extend beyond me. No one, least of all I, planned for you to personally see to my daily amusements.”
“If I had been free to do so, I would have gladly taken the pleasurable task.”
The earnestness in his expression stirred her guilt. “Where is your sister?”
She had her answer seconds later. He brought her to his family. Mother A’Court sat beside her younger sister, Lady Kerbey. May hovered dutifully behind them, but she was obviously feeling burdened by the chore. She forlornly watched the couples dancing while she longed for a partner. The sisters’ elderly mother, Mrs. Byres, was nearby immersed in a conversation with Mrs. Molly Bedegrayne. Brook smiled fondly at the older woman, remembering the afternoon visits she and the Bedegrayne sisters had spent together at Aunt Moll’s house. She had heard that the lady had recently married. Hopefully, there would be a moment sometime during the evening when they could become reacquainted. Brook greeted the ladies. May praised her ball gown and she returned the compliment.
“My lady, what is your opinion of our cousin? Is she not the jewel in the A’Court crown?” Ham said, anxious for the dowager’s reply.
Elthia, Lady A’Court, raised her lorgnette and critically scrutinized Brook’s appearance. On tenterhooks she awaited her mother-in-law’s pronouncement. “Mrs. Ludlow did well to choose bold colors,” she said after deliberating. “The bodice is lower than I anticipated. An excessive display of flesh is vulgar. Unmarried ladies and widows in particular
must guard against drawing unwarranted attention. Luckily, you are not burdened with much aloft. You have my compliments, madam.”
“Thank you,” she replied, trying not to stare at her bosom.
The older woman leaned forward to get a closer inspection of the pearl bracelet adorning Brook’s wrist. “This bracelet is exquisite. I do not recall this piece as belonging to the family collection.”
“If you recollect, Mother A’Court, I relinquished all of the A’Court jewelry to your solicitor.” She had not kept a single bauble, not even the betrothal ring Lyon had put on her finger. “The pearls belong to me.”
Ham stood proudly beside her. He squeezed her arm, showing his pleasure. “Your praise is most welcome, madam. One day soon I hope you will be offering us your blessing.”
“My lord,” Brook begged, not wanting to set false expectations. Her gaze impotently sought out May’s assistance. If Ham were given further encouragement he would be announcing their betrothal sometime this evening.
“You are distressing our cousin, Brother,” May said, holding Brook’s panicked gaze. “Let her enjoy the amusements of the season before speaking of marrying her and bundling her off to the country again to birth your heirs.”
The accuracy of her statement caused the earl’s ears to redden. “May, you are being indelicate.”
Elthia, Lady A’Court, surprised them all by saying, “I have been giving this match you have proposed some consideration, my lord. My son would be honored by your diligent care of his widow. Though I had initially disapproved of Lyon’s choice in bride, the years have matured her frivolous nature. When the moment comes that you are prepared to claim her publicly as your countess, you will have my support.”
Stunned, Brook blinked rapidly as Ham rushed past her
and kissed the dowager’s hand. He said, “Madam, your generosity overwhelms me.”
“Before you post the banns,” May interjected, noting that her future sister-in-law was not as enthused by the older woman’s declaration, “you might want to court the lady who holds your affections.”
Lady Kerbey chuckled and gave Brook a commiserating look. “A gentleman’s arrogance. A’Court, continue this high road and see if our Brook does not reject you.”
They were simply teasing Ham. Nevertheless, Brook welcomed their hindrance. She would listen to no further talk about marriage. “All that I have promised is a dance,” Brook warned. “The hand I offer is impermanent.”
“Ho! That is the spirit,” Lady Kerbey crowed. “Give our cousin a merry chase so he might appreciate the prize.”
Mallory did not linger as the servant announced their names. His light blue gaze searched the crowded ballroom for a blonde in cerulean blue. Days ago, he had made inquiries about the color of her gown because he wanted to purchase a jewelry suite that complemented it. He had considered bribing Brook’s maid. However, Mrs. Ludlow had proven most cooperative. He had sworn the older woman to secrecy and she was too much of a romantic to deny him.
“You are not planning on abandoning me for the card room?” Lady Keyworth inquired.
“Not at all.” A flash of blue caught his eye. Cocking his head, he said, “You will be pleased, Mother. My father’s illness has reminded me how neglectful I have been about my duties.”
Startled by the admission, she dropped her fan. Mallory gallantly retrieved it. Accepting it, she asked, “What are you planning to do?”
Ah, there she was. His pleasure diminished slightly when
he realized A’Court had partnered her for a dance. “Hmm … what? Oh, you will approve. I plan to marry a countess.”
“You are angry.”
No. She was furious. She rapped his hand with her fan when he tried to soothe her like she was a horse. “You promised that if I came to London you would cease pressuring me into accepting your proposal.”
The master of ceremonies called for the dancers to form their sets. Too upset by Ham’s imperious manner, she did not have the heart to feign enthusiasm for a country-dance. “I require some air,” she muttered, leaving him standing with his mouth open.
“Lady A’Court!”
She heard his frantic whisper to stop, but she ignored him. As she stepped outside, the fresh air revived her. The earl caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, he steered her away from the windows.
“Did you not hear me?”
“Yes, Ham, I did. And like you and Mother A’Court, I chose to ignore your wishes.” She opened her fan and used it to keep away the tiny insects hovering near her face.
“Dearest,” he entreated. “I know I promised I would not press you. Still the outcome will never change. Why fight it? There are so many benefits in marrying.”
“Name them.”
He stepped back, slightly perplexed. “Name them?”
Brook closed the gap between them and poked him on the shoulder. He jumped as she hit a tender spot. “These wonderful benefits you claim. I want to hear all about them.”
“You will remain Lady A’Court.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I have never experienced any pleasure being the Countess of A’Court. Another.”
“Wealth and status,” he said, suspecting that she was ridiculing him.
“Through my Lanston lineage, I claim both. More.”
Her haughty demeanor was stirring his ire. He was unused to anyone questioning him, least of all a woman. “Loughwydde.”
“It is mine!”
His gray eyes hardened. He reminded her briefly of Lyon. “Loughwydde is yours because I desire for you to have it.”
“Cornwall has meant nothing to the A’Courts. The acreage is too small to deem profitable and the distance too far from London. Ham, Loughwydde has been in my family for generations.”
He handed her his handkerchief. Until then, she had not noticed her tears. “Then you do not want to give me a reason to strip you of your quaint rural estate.”
Locking his wrists behind his back, he strolled back into the ballroom. Her fearful expression heartened him. He suspected she would come to heel when he chose to announce their betrothal.
Mallory watched A’Court as he disappeared into the crowded ballroom.
Pompous prig.
Moving out of the shadows, Mallory approached Brook. He studied her profile. While many of the ladies within had spent hours pinning and curling their locks into complicated confections, the countess had striven for simplicity. Single braids draped like gold ropes from her temples. She had combed her tresses high and tethered them at her crown. The luxuriant cascade fell down her back in soft, natural curls. He longed to bury his face into the softness. The blue silk shimmered in the moonlight as she walked to one of the stone benches and sat. She hiccupped softly and dabbed a handkerchief at her cheeks.
“Your tears glitter like diamonds in the moonlight.”
She started at his voice and then relaxed. “It sounds poetic. In truth, crying makes me soggy.”
He fingered the pear-shaped pearl dangling from her earlobe. “Mayhap pearls. Though they tend to glow rather than glitter.”
She choked on her laughter. “It hardly matters. It still means I am too hideous to show my face in the ballroom.”
Hideous? Did the woman not look in the mirror? Finding her lack of vanity mildly irritating, he snatched the handkerchief from her hand. “Let me see if I can improve upon you.”
Mallory thought she was perfect. He just wanted an excuse to touch her. Folding the handkerchief around his finger, he began at the corner of her eye and lightly followed its contour. He repeated the action on the other side until there was no trace of her sorrow.
“Thank you for the pearls.” She touched the necklace. “You were thoughtful to purchase them.”
“You astound me, Countess. I was prepared for arguments about how you could not accept such an expensive gift.”
Chagrined, she gave him a hesitant smile. “I drafted in my head a similar argument.”
“What changed your mind? Pray do not tell me that you have developed mercenary tendencies,” he said in feigned horror.
“Your kindness,” she blurted out, quieting his teasing. Surprised at herself, she tried to make light of her confession. “Trust me, this is an aberration. On the morrow, I will likely come to my senses and blister your ears with all my sound reasoning for not accepting gifts from notable scoundrels.”
Unable to resist, he murmured, “Do you know what ladies say about charming rogues and moonlit gardens?”
“No.”
His cheeks dimpled as he roguishly grinned. “Why, nothing at all, Countess.” Bending his head, he fitted his mouth over hers. She touched his arm. Intense in her concentration, she clumsily moved her lips over his. Her soft butterfly caresses were a potent arcanum. He wanted nothing more than
to lead her deeper into the shadows and teach her the decadence of making love under the stars.
“Very sweet.”
Brook’s eyes widened at Carissa Le Maye’s mocking opinion. Wanting to reassure the countess, Mallory kissed her on the nose, and then turned to deal with his scorned lover.
“How can you tell, Carissa, when the bitterness of vitriol coats your tongue?”
The widow did not respond to his question. Sweeping past them in a gown of wine and gold, she rested her hand on a stone balustrade, which overlooked the formal gardens. With her back to them, she said wistfully, “I love nights like this. Do you recall the eve we crept like thieves into the Hol-becks’ garden? We had attended a party earlier that day and I admired their charming belvedere.”
Mallory knew where she was going with this tale. Christ, he had heard her recount it to unsuspecting listeners on numerous occasions just to see their eyes pop at their audacity. “Lady A’Court is not interested in old history.”
Carissa glanced back at them. “On the contrary, I think Lyon’s little
souris
would twitch her tiny ears in rapt regard.” She continued her tale. “The columns of the circular structure were comprised of pink marble. Have you ever pressed your warm breasts against cool marble, Lady A’Court?”