How to Entice an Earl
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Authors: Manda Collins
Tags: #Romance, #Regency, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
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Contents
Praise for Manda Collins’s delightful debut
One
“What about Lord Fortenbury?” Cecily, Duchess of Winterson, asked her cousin Lady Madeline Essex, her voice low so that the other attendees of the Wexford Ball wouldn’t hear them.
As on so many previous occasions, Cecily, Maddie, and their cousin Juliet, now Lady Deveril, looked out at the dancers at a
ton
gathering without taking to the floor themselves. But this time it was from choice rather than a lack of partners—at least for the two married cousins. Both Cecily and Juliet had just released their husbands to find their way to the card room so that they could chat with Maddie, who had thus far been unable to remove herself from the ranks of the wallflowers.
It wasn’t for want of a fashionable gown, she mused. The creation from Madame Celeste that she wore tonight might be a bit unusual, with its high waist and unembellished state, but there was no mistaking that the ocean-blue silk displayed her generous curves and ample bosom to advantage. And the color went well with her fair hair and coloring. It was a far cry from the sort of overembellished frocks and muted colors she’d worn at the beginning of the season. Although she’d never been one to mince words or back down from a challenge, her new wardrobe nevertheless gave Maddie a renewed sense of confidence when it came to the opposite sex. A confidence that would never allow her to grasp at the first gentleman who crossed her path.
“Lord Fortenbury is like a particularly eager puppy,” she said, impatience furrowing her brow. “I like puppies, but I don’t wish to be married to one.”
Ever since her cousins had married, they had encouraged Maddie to make use of the dance card Cecily had “borrowed” from Miss Amelia Snowe, this season’s unrivaled diamond. Shaped like a fan, the dance card’s ivory petals marked with the penciled-in names of the
ton
’s most eligible bachelors could be easily “adapted” to conform to each new entertainment. For both Cecily and Juliet, the card had proven to be a good-luck token as well as a means of meeting eligibles, for soon after they acquired it they had each found their husbands. And while she was pleased for her cousins, she did not feel quite ready to follow them into matrimony. She had things to accomplish before she allowed herself to become enthralled by a husband and family. Like finishing her novel.
“Have you even used the dance card?” Juliet demanded, her auburn brows furrowed with suspicion. “I haven’t seen you dance above three times this week. And twice were with Deveril and Winterson so they don’t even count.”
“You might try the ‘smile–bat–tilt’ method,” Cecily suggested, referring to Amelia’s penciled mantra on the back of the fan petals. “It worked for me when I was trying to find a gentleman to get me into the Egyptian Club.”
Maddie refrained from pointing out that Amelia’s advice had
not
in fact been what drew Winterson to Cecily. “I do appreciate your concern,” she assured both of her cousins, “but I do not wish to—”
She was saved from further discussion by the arrival of Winterson, Deveril, and their friend Colonel Lord Christian Monteith. Only now he was the Earl of Gresham, she corrected herself, thinking of Christian’s recent elevation to the title upon the death of his uncle. It was difficult to think of him as Gresham rather than Monteith.
“I thought you were headed for the card room,” Juliet said to her angelically handsome husband, Lord Deveril, who was dressed in the first stare of fashion, a ruby pin nestled in the folds of his pristine neck cloth.
“We were,” Deveril said with a shrug, his golden curls glinting in the chandelier lights as he slipped a hand down to squeeze Juliet’s, “but we ran into Gresham on the way there and lost interest.”
“I do seem to have that effect on people,” Monteith—or Gresham—said with a flash of white teeth.
As usual, his evening attire was more practical than fashionable, but his broad shoulders and strong thighs filled his coat and breeches impressively. Not that Maddie noticed such things. No, indeed.
“They are so overtaken by my charismatic personality that they can think of little else.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, old son,” said Winterson, who had gravitated to his wife’s side like a magnet to iron. “We came back,” he told the cousins, “because we saw Amelia Snowe headed this way.”
“And you came to protect us?” Cecily asked with deceptive sweetness. “It was gallant of you, darling. But you know that we are perfectly capable of handling her ourselves. We’ve done so for years now. Without assistance, I might add.”
“I would trust you lot to dispatch with any number of villains on your own, my dear,” Winterson said, unruffled. “However, she has a friend of
ours
in tow, who is perhaps not so handy at defeating her as you are. And we thought we might linger nearby lest he needs a helping hand.”
Before she could ask which friend was ensnared in Amelia’s web, Maddie heard Amelia herself from somewhere behind them.
“You say the most wondrous things, Lord Fortenbury,” the beauty, her voice as sugary-sweet as a confection from Gunters, cooed. “I have never heard my eyes compared to stars before.”
Maddie shot a speaking glance at Cecily and Juliet.
This is the man you wish me to marry?
She’d remain a spinster before she subjected herself to such empty flattery on a daily basis. As someone who cherished language and words, she found his lack of imagination especially painful.
“Good God,” Gresham muttered to them sotto voce, his expression pained. “I thought Fort had more imagination than that. Eyes like stars, indeed. I am surprised that Miss Snowe doesn’t skewer him for such an affront.”
But Amelia must be of the opinion that any compliment was better than none at all, and poor Lord Fortenbury blundered on. “Miss Snowe, I could compose an ode to your eyes and a ballad to your br … eathtaking lips.”
At the pause, all of Maddie’s party groaned—albeit quietly.
“I feel ill,” Cecily said, lifting a hand to her midsection, “and it has nothing to do with my interesting condition. How can he degrade himself like that? It’s appalling.”
“A man will do a great deal to impress a beautiful woman,” Winterson said, taking Cecily’s arm and surreptitiously holding her hand.
Maddie averted her eyes and tried to stifle the pang of longing Winterson and Cecily’s closeness made her feel. It wasn’t that she was jealous of her cousin’s happiness. But at times like this she was forcibly reminded that she still remained very much alone. Even Amelia, who was by far the most annoying young lady of her acquaintance, had managed to ensnare poor Lord Fortenbury. Not that Maddie wanted him for herself, but even so she wished for someone she could call her own.
Further conversation was forestalled when Lord Fortenbury, with Miss Snowe on his arm, approached them.
Maddie watched the pair with curiosity. Amelia was just as lovely as ever, though Maddie had long ago ceased to see her outer beauty as anything other than an empty shell. The real Amelia, if it were ever to manifest itself physically, would resemble a hideous gargoyle.
Fortenbury exchanged greetings with the gentlemen, while the ladies offered chilly acknowledgments to one another. It was evident to Maddie that none of them were particularly comfortable with the situation.
“Lady Madeline,” Amelia said, breaking the silence first, her voice silky as it often was before she delivered a cutting barb. “What an interesting gown. I don’t believe I’ve seen a waist like that since I was a girl. Never say that is one of Madame Celeste’s creations. She is usually so
au courant
.”
Since Maddie knew full well that Amelia frequented the modiste, she knew the remark had little to do with Madame Celeste, and everything to do with the woman wearing the gown. “Indeed it is, Amelia,” she returned, not letting a hint of her annoyance show in her face. “Madame Celeste is so talented that I simply put myself in her hands without trying to second-guess her sense of fashion. She is the expert, after all.”
Before Amelia could respond, Maddie was startled to hear Gresham speak up.
“I think Lady Madeline has never looked finer,” the earl drawled, removing a quizzing glass, which Maddie had never once seen him use, from a hidden pocket in his waistcoat and surveying her from top to toes. Against her will she felt a blush rise from her neck into her cheeks. She would make him pay for this later. She could fight her own battles, thank you very much.
“You are too kind, Lord Gresham,” Maddie said through her teeth, glaring at him. But Gresham, ignoring her pique, merely winked at her from behind the glass.
Amelia, who had never been one to argue with an eligible bachelor—even one who was friendly with her mortal enemies—simpered. It was not pretty. “I fear you misunderstand me, my lord,” Amelia gushed. “I was trying to tell Lady Madeline how interesting her gown is. I feel sure that Madame Celeste has anticipated what will be the trend before much time has passed.” Just in case her backhanded apology did not hit its mark, she extended her lower lip in a very pretty pout. As if she felt quite sad at having been so misunderstood.
“I’m sure Gresham understands his mistake, Miss Snowe,” Lord Fortenbury soothed the beauty. “He’s not at all the sort to hold a grudge.” He turned to the other man with what on someone else would be a glare and asked with as much menace as a puppy could master, “Are you, old fellow?”
Maddie barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Fortenbury’s protective display. What was it about Miss Snowe that turned men into fools in her presence? Except for Gresham, she mentally amended. He was never one to follow the trend.
“Indeed I am not,” Gresham replied to Fortenbury, though he made no move to step away from Maddie’s side, for which she was surprisingly grateful. “I do hope, however, that Miss Snowe will attempt to make herself understood from now on. I should hate to hear of some young lady of lesser mettle than Lady Madeline having her feelings wounded by an unguarded word.”
Her grudging gratitude to Gresham growing, Maddie watched as Amelia’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before she masked the annoyance with more simpering. Before there could be any more conflict, the sound of the orchestra tuning up for the next dance broke through the tension. Apparently deciding that they’d done their conversational duty, Lord Fortenbury and Miss Snowe left them to take their places in the sets forming on the ballroom floor.
“You are a very bad man,” Maddie told her champion as the whole group burst into laughter. “I am perfectly capable of routing Miss Amelia Snowe, thank you very much. Even if you did raise her ire, I have managed quite well with Amelia these past few years and do not need a gentleman to ride to my rescue.”