Lady Lissa's Liaison (14 page)

"Yes, but servants tend to repeat things."

"Not mine," said Lavinia. "They are too old and too weary of the world."

Lissa wished the same could be said about her
own
servants!

Lord Roderick Langford stepped into their path then, sketching a deep bow. Both Lissa and Lavinia paused. As Lord Langford rose he gave Lissa a very private smile.

"Lady Lovington," he murmured, and then, smoothly polite, he turned his attention to Lavinia. "Miss Manning," he said. "Happy Birthday. I'd meant to wish you well earlier, but there was such a press about you and Lady Lissa that I decided to wait until now."

Lavinia, suddenly at a loss in the presence of a gentleman, turned wan, sputtering out a reply. "Th—thank you," she breathed, then looked nervously to Lissa for help.

Lissa instantly smoothed the moment by asking Lord Langford to join them as they made their way deeper into the assembly room.

"I would be delighted," he responded, offering them each an arm.

Lissa noted that Langford's grin was handsome indeed. His well-groomed, wheat-blond hair had a habit of falling romantically over his right brow, and his pale blue eyes seemed always to hold a hint of interest within.

This night he was dressed spectacularly in a charcoal coat and tight-fitting white kerseymere breeches, with an extremely expensive gold pin nestled in the folds of his intricate neckcloth. He looked the epitome of a gentleman from London Town, which he was.

So why do I not trust him?
Lissa wondered.

His was the suit that concerned Lissa most. He was polite but in a too-forceful way, and though she'd scolded herself many times for thinking so, Lissa could not shake the feeling that the man was not the ever-pleasant gentleman he wished the world to believe him to be.

Had it truly been only yesterday when he'd placed that damnable locket about her neck, affixing the clasp even before she could gainsay him? Then he'd gone and said that if she did not return the locket to him before the end of the Summer Season, he would know she had accepted his suit. The locket was to be their private symbol, he'd said.

Symbol, indeed! thought Lissa, angrily. She wished she had the unlucky locket with her just now. She'd give it back to Lord Langford in a moment.

But alas, the locket was gone, sitting in the belly of some overly large trout. A trout that the ever-vigilant Lord Wylde had vowed to search for in the depths of the Dove.

By the time Lady Lissa, Lavinia and Lord Langford had entered the drawing room, the small band of musicians had finished tuning their instruments and the dancing had formally begun.

Lord Langford, ever polite and socially correct, extended his first offer to Lavinia. Before Lissa realized what was happening, the two of them were dancing toward the center of the great hall. Lavinia looked a bit nervous, but Lord Langford was such a consummate dance partner that her clumsy steps were well concealed.

Lissa hadn't long to contemplate the couple before she herself was whisked off to dance the set with Mr. Chesney Wrotham, who had an embarrassing habit of stuttering in her presence, but who was a friend of her childhood and as such held a special place in her heart. She'd addressed him by his Christian name for as long as she could remember, but he had never been able to bring himself to address her in a like fashion.

"You l-look l-lovely, Lady L-Lissa," he said.

"Thank you, Chesney," Lissa said, feeling sorry for all the L's he was forced to stumble over.

Lissa glanced about them, wondering how Lavinia was faring.

"I g-gather you are looking for
him
to arrive," said Chesney.

"Excuse me?" said Lissa, returning her attention to her dance partner.

"L-Lord Wylde. You are s-searching for him in the c-crowd."

Lissa tried not to overreact, but her body stiffened in spite of that resolve. "What do you mean?"
Gracious,
she thought,
has Tilly's rumor spread so far as to be dangerous?

Chesney, his face turning beet red, missed a step, corrected himself, then blushed a deeper shade of crimson. "W-word is, my lady, that you... you and L-Lord Wylde are e-enamored of each other."

Lissa's blood turned cold. Surely her servants had not taken word of her foolish plot of a liaison to all the hamlets of the countryside!

"The Earl of Wylde and I hardly know each other, Chesney," she assured the young man, hoping he'd repeat her vow a thousandfold tonight. "In fact, he is not even on the guest list for this evening. Now tell me, Chesney, were I to favor a gentleman, would I not invite him to join us on this very special natal day of my friend?"

"Well, y-yes," agreed Chesney, and then, suddenly, his attention was diverted.

Chesney's gaze fixed solidly on the door to the great hall. In fact, Lissa noted, the eyes of every other person in attendance were fastened on that doorway.

She turned her head.

There, within the high-arched door, stood none other than Gabriel Gordon, the sixth Earl of Wylde.

Chapter 9

Lissa felt her heart tremble a beat at the sight of Lord Wylde standing so arrogantly at the threshold of a soiree he'd not been invited to attend. He looked like thunder on the hoof, and even from across the room his sheer height and the breadth of his shoulders seemed to dwarf every man present.

He was dressed entirely in black, the only relief being the show of snowy linen at his throat and cuffs, and the wink of a sapphire stickpin nestled in his intricate neckcloth. His hair was brushed to a high sheen and was now angled back, leaving every nuance of his harsh-planed face in clear view.

There was no denying the storm clouds in his dark gaze... and no denying that his eyes were fixed solely upon
her.
The man clearly had a plot of his own this night!

For an impossibly long moment it seemed that the entire room became hushed, as though all the guests in their beautiful finery were but a painting, caught and stilled by an artist's brush.

'Twas a ridiculous notion, of course, Lissa thought, for the music continued and the dancers still moved about the floor. But even though no one physically came to a standstill, there existed a certain rent in the atmosphere. Lord Wylde would have made a quieter entrance had he simply ridden a destrier directly into their midst!

Behind discreetly held fans was being murmured a volley of words—all beginning and ending with the fact that the sixth Earl of Wylde was staging a most shocking comeback. Years after being cast out of Society due to the untimely and ugly death of his would-be bride, it was quite apparent to all present that his lordship, who had lived the life of a recluse of late, had eyes this night for Lady Lissa Arianna Lovington! The very room seemed to palpitate with an outrageous energy.

Lissa felt panic flare inside of her. Until this very moment she had stupidly clung to the small hope that the rumor of her supposed liaison had gone no farther than a few servants. Now, however, with all in attendance being interested spectators, she realized she had erred in that assumption. Good breeding and politeness had obviously stayed the lips of her many guests. It was painfully clear that everyone had merely been biding their time before remarking upon the rumor that had indeed spread all around the shire.

Lissa's face flamed. She missed a step, shook her head, then mumbled an apology to Chesney.

"Th-think nothing of it," said Chesney, his own face registering concern as he looked beyond her. "Need I come to your r-rescue, do you think? I-I may not be of Lord Wylde's ilk, my l-lady, but I am prepared to stay by your s-side should he become unpleasant."

Heavens, but Lissa hadn't intended for any of her suitors to claim they would slay a dragon on her behalf!

"Do not be silly, Chesney," she said. "His lordship has but made an unannounced appearance. There is no reason to believe he will be anything but a gentleman this night."

"Forgive me for saying so, my l-lady, but Lord Wylde has not earned the title of 'the H-hheartless One' for no reason."

There it was again; that odious label! "That was years ago," Lissa insisted. "The man was much younger—and doubtless more foolhardy."

"From what I've heard, his lordship was a great many things, my lady. Few of them p-pleasant."

Lissa wished an end to this conversation, to this set, and mayhap even this entire
day.

It was Wylde who managed the deed—in ending the set, at least.

He stepped into the great hall and moved immediately to the musicians. He spoke briefly with one of them—a musician who did not even miss a beat while nodding at whatever his lordship had requested—and then he backed away. Suddenly, the polonaise ended, and the lead musician announced that a waltz would be the next dance.

Of course it would be a waltz,
thought Lissa, irritated, and seeing that Lord Wylde was now headed toward her with strong purpose.

Chesney, in a quandary as to whether or not he should be so bold as to claim two dances in a row with Lissa and thus leave himself prey to a confrontation with Wylde, fidgeted. His offer of assistance and to remain by her side seemed suddenly to have vanished.

Lord Langford, however, chose that moment to step between them. He held out one glove-covered hand to Lissa.

"May I have this dance, Lady Lissa?"

Lissa glanced at Chesney. The younger gentleman, relieved by Langford's interference, bowed off, then hastened toward Lavinia, claiming her hand for the waltz, glad enough not to have to meet with the fury of one Lord Wylde.

Lissa was just about to accept Langford's offer when Wylde intervened. Like a brooding cloud whipping inland from a raging sea, Lord Wylde came beside her.

"I believe the lady has promised the first waltz to
me,"
Wylde said to Langford, voice cool and brooking no argument.

Lord Langford, unlike the young Chesney, was not so easily frightened off.

"Greetings, Wylde," Langford drawled, in no hurry to back down. "Hadn't known you were to make an appearance tonight. In fact, last I'd heard, you had disappeared totally from Polite Society... not that anyone bemoaned your absence, of course."

Lord Wylde barely batted an eye at the insult. "You, Langford, and all other members of
polite
company can be dully informed that I have returned," he replied, steel in his voice.

Lissa was aghast at their exchange. She saw Lord Wylde's tight-lipped frown, noted that telltale muscle jerking along his strong jawline, and knew a moment of dread.

"Gentlemen,
please,
" she whispered.

Wylde's black gaze did not leave Langford's face. "I believe the lady fears the two of us might be so base as to resort to fisticuffs in front of her guests. Is that what this moment will be reduced to, Langford?"

"Not likely," scoffed his lordship. "You and your ilk have forever been beneath me, Wylde."

"Interesting," said the Earl of Wylde. "I have long held the same opinion of
you,
Langford."

Though Wylde said the words with an unruffled air, Lissa noted the ominous gleam in his eyes. Lord Langford was treading on dangerous ground—yet he seemed foolishly bent on continuing along that hazardous path.

"I see you have not changed, Wylde," Langford replied. "You remain as contemptible as I and a great many other people recall. Do not for one minute believe members of the Polite World will welcome you back into their bosom."

"I shall take that into consideration, Langford." The musicians struck a chord with their instruments, the other dancers moving into position with their partners. Wylde, taking hold of Lissa's right elbow, motioned with just a nod for Langford to take his leave. "Now if you will excuse us, the lady and I have a waltz to dance."

Langford smiled coldly, inclining his leonine head with mocking grace. "I shall beg off only when Lady Lissa insists that I do so," he warned, then turned his gaze to Lissa. "My lady? What is your wish?"

Truth be known, Lissa wished them
both
to Jericho! At the moment, however, Lord Wylde's savage black mood outweighed all other matters. She made her choice in an instant.

" 'Tis true," she said to Langford, the white lie making her insides twist—though not as much as Wylde's black stare was doing. "Lord Wylde did indeed request the first waltz."