Once an Innocent (4 page)

Fifteen minutes later, Marshall returned, his posture and demeanor considerably eased. “Isabelle feels much more the thing,” he told the group. “She’s resting comfortably and will join us later if she’s up to it.”

Lily put a hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens. I couldn’t have gone on with the benefit, knowing Isa was in peril.”

Marshall surprised Naomi by pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” he rasped. “If anything happened to her — ”

“She’ll be fine, Marshall,” she assured him. “Isabelle is a strong woman. She’ll give you a perfect, healthy child when the time is right.”

He held her back but kept a grasp on her upper arms. A thoughtful look passed across his face. “I don’t know how anyone can stand to have more than one baby. Isabelle might have the fortitude for it, but I don’t know that I do. The nearer her time comes, the more … ” He stopped himself and patted her shoulder. “Well, that’s not for you to worry about.”

Naomi shook her head. “
Now
you remember my maidenly innocence?” she teased.

A footman announced the first guests, Mr. and Mrs. Bachman. Marshall squeezed her hands before going to greet them.

Soon, a fair crowd mingled and chatted. Lily and Ethan made an elegant-looking pair as they spoke to everyone about King’s Cross Vocational. Naomi was awed by her friend’s massive undertaking — a school to train disadvantaged young women in good-paying trades. The institution was scheduled to open its doors for Michaelmas term on the first of October, a date fast approaching. Ethan matched his wife’s enthusiasm for the institution; between her force and his charm, Naomi did not think anyone could help but be persuaded to contribute to the cause.

Naomi had spent a great deal of time at the school, helping in whatever small ways she could. Another benefit to her eventual marriage, she thought as she nodded to some new arrivals, was that she could sit on the board for King’s Cross, as Isabelle already did.

She exchanged a warm greeting with her friend Emily — now Lady Gerard. “How lovely you’re looking, Em.” Naomi admired her friend’s canary dress. Emily raised a hand to touch her auburn hair — and to display the large, yellow-sapphire ring gracing her finger. “Oh, my!” Naomi exclaimed.

“Do you like it? Charles gave it to me just tonight,” Emily gushed. She glanced to where her husband, Lord Gerard, conversed with Mr. Hayward.

Naomi watched her friend’s features closely. There was a pride about her that she’d acquired since the June wedding. She was proud of her husband, Naomi saw, proud of the good match she’d made. But she did not love him. Not yet. Naomi hoped her friend’s marriage would become a true love match before long. Lily and Ethan’s marriage had not begun on the warmest terms, after all, but now Naomi could not imagine one without the other coming to mind.

The sound of laughter drew their attention. It was Isabelle, looking much recovered from her earlier discomfort. She entered the salon on the arm of Lord Freese. Naomi felt a little sigh in her chest at the sight of the inordinately handsome viscount. His tall, broad frame and dark hair and brows should have made him intimidating. The prominent scar on his cheek should have spoiled his looks. But he was saved from ferocity by an easy, jovial nature. Unruly curls lightened the effect of their black hue, and even the scar was turned to an asset, because it lent him an air of experience. Here was a man who had been out and seen the world, fought bravely, and lost blood for his country. The only feature about him Naomi found the slightest unsettling were his eyes, a striking blue, sharply contrasting with his coloration.

His personable demeanor made him popular with other gentlemen while his looks made him a great favorite of the ladies. Indeed, Naomi considered Lord Freese to be perhaps the most attractive gentleman of her acquaintance — truly
attractive
, in that he drew females to him like shards of iron to a lodestone. Women could not help but lose their heads over Jordan — and they did so in droves.

And he’d never looked at her twice.

Well, she amended mentally, that wasn’t quite true. He had looked at her numerous times — countless, even. But only as the younger sister of his friend. Never as a young woman of marriageable age might wish to be looked upon.

Which was why Naomi had resisted the urge to lose her own head over the man. When a god descended from on high to mingle amongst mortals, one was wise to keep one’s distance. She contented herself in enjoying the view from afar and relishing the brief exchanges they shared when he visited Marshall. Their one dance at her debut ball was a highlight of her first Season. But she knew Jordan was not interested in making a match with someone as ordinary as Naomi. No, her own husband would be a man more of this sphere than the Adonis-like Lord Freese.

“Now, there’s a gentleman who could pay me court anytime,” Emily said in a low, lusty tone.

Naomi’s eyes widened at her friend’s statement. Her eyes cut to Lord Gerard. “Em, you’ve not been married two months!” she whispered.

Emily crossed her arms and clucked her tongue. “Oh, Naomi, you’re still such a girl. You’ll understand one day.” Her lips turned up in a smile that held a hint of meanness. “Or not. I’m sure your marriage will be perfection, just like everything else you touch.” Emily sauntered off to join her husband and the other gentlemen.

Naomi blinked, stung by her friend’s lowering words. She glanced back to where Jordan had been, just in time to see him depart. The well-lit room seemed dimmer somehow. Why was he leaving so soon? Her mood sank, but when Sir Simeon greeted her, she gave him her most dazzling smile. Tonight, she had to help Isabelle and Lily. There was no time for sulking.

After a while, Naomi was able to discount Emily’s hurtful words and enjoy herself.
She probably didn’t mean anything by it at all,
she reasoned. Naomi was in an odd mood and had probably misinterpreted Em’s comment.

As she chatted with the Holliers and the Bachmans, Naomi’s neck prickled as though someone was watching her. She shrugged it off as another symptom of her own aberrant frame of mind and concentrated all the harder on her brother’s guests. The sensation persisted, however.

Even as Mr. Gladstone paid her copious compliments on her appearance, she could no longer ignore the feeling of being watched. Naomi glanced over her shoulder. Lord Freese had returned, she saw, but he was not looking at her, of course. He stood talking to Marshall, with Isabelle, Lily, and Ethan all looking on.

With a start, she realized the sensation had gone away.
It was just a fancy
, she told herself. “Mr. Gladstone,” she said at a pause in the man’s profuse praises of the faux blossom adorning her hair, “do you have the time?”

The gentleman fished a gold watch from a pocket. “It’s ten minutes before eight o’clock, my lady.”

“The auction will begin at the hour,” Naomi said. “If you’ll please excuse me, I must see to rounding up the guests who have stepped out for air.”

Just outside the salon, she bumped into the Holliers. “My lord, my lady, the auction will commence momentarily, if you’d like to go ahead and take seats.”

“Thank you, m’dear.” Lord Hollier patted his wife’s hand, tucked into the crook of his arm. “We shall do so. I saw a group of young people go toward the library.” He pointed an unsteady finger down the hallway.

Naomi thanked him before searching for the others. The library door stood open and she heard Emily’s laughter. Smiling, Naomi started forward, but the sound of her own name halted her before she appeared in the doorway.

“Be kind, Charles!” Emily admonished her husband. “Naomi may not know how to encourage a gentleman’s attentions. Why, just tonight she was shocked to her toes by some mild comment I made.”

“To the contrary, my dear,” Lord Gerard said, “she toys with men quite ruthlessly. Gets their notice with that pretty face, let’s ‘em put a foot in, then slams the door on their toes. I tell you, they aren’t calling her the Snow Angel at the clubs for nothing.”

Naomi’s jaw dropped and she covered her mouth to keep from making a sound.
The Snow Angel?

“She could have been married a year and more by now if she’d wanted to be,” Emily said.

“She has it all, by gad,” said a man whose voice Naomi did not know. “I suppose she can afford to be choosy.”

“Yes, but will anyone still come calling?” Emily mused. “If she’s as cold hearted as you say, who would have her?”

Tears pricked the backs of Naomi’s eyes. “Oh, Emily,” she whispered. How could her friend believe her to be a heartless tease? It wasn’t Naomi’s fault she’d had to discourage gentlemen from courting her. Her brothers had each forbidden her from making a match the last two Seasons. The year of her debut, Marshall had insisted she was too young to make such a decision. This year, Marshall had been in South America during the Season, and Grant had refused to take responsibility for allowing a betrothal. Naomi thought she was doing gentlemen a kindness by gently turning them away, rather than stringing them along.

“I would have her,” said a voice she recognized as Mr. Hayward’s. A man’s steps paced the floor. “Indeed, were it not for the fact that Lady Naomi has rebuffed the attentions of all comers,” Hayward continued, “I would have paid my addresses long since. She is, by far, the loveliest lady in Town, and in possession of both wealth and connections. Lucky will be the gentleman who wins her hand.”

Naomi’s heart lurched, grateful for Mr. Hayward’s unexpected friendship. He alone spoke up for her, while the others dragged her name through the gutter.

“Maybe it will be you,” Emily teased.

There was a long pause, and Naomi wished she could see Mr. Hayward’s face. Did the idea of winning her hand please him? Was he indifferent?

“I think not,” the gentleman said at last. “Greater men than I have been cast aside by the lady. What chance has the younger son of a baron, where loftier peers have failed?”

Her mind reeling, Naomi’s eyes squeezed shut. Her fingertips curled around the chair rail running the length of the corridor.

She heard the sound of crystal clinking together. “Make mine tall,” said one of the men. While someone poured drinks, the conversation inside the library turned to less personal topics.

Of all the gentlemen she knew, did Mr. Hayward alone still hold her in good esteem? Naomi had followed all the conventions since stepping foot in London. Well, she thought, there was that one instance when she and Lily had followed Lord Thorburn down Bond Street and spied on him in the lending library. Other than that indiscretion, however, she had walked straight and done her duty to her brothers. Despite following all the rules Society and family placed on her, her reputation had suffered.

“I believe the auction begins at eight, yes?” Lord Gerard’s bored drawl snapped her out of her reverie. “We’d best get back before we are missed.”

Startled by the sound of footsteps, Naomi ran back to the salon on the balls of her slippered feet, praying she made no sound. Her cheeks burned as she skittered into the room and pressed herself against the wall, chest heaving. The guests were taking their seats. Lord and Lady Gerard’s group entered and passed by an unnoticed Naomi.

Impulsively, Naomi shot a hand out and caught Mr. Hayward’s sleeve. He turned, surprise evident in his gray eyes.
He really is a good-looking man,
she thought. His hair was dark gold and hung in loose waves to his jawbone.

“Mr. Hayward,” she said. She glanced nervously at the assembled guests, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Everyone was seated — everyone but Lord Freese, that was. He looked straight at Naomi and Mr. Hayward. The lines of his posture suggested a hound
en pointe,
altogether rattling her nerves.

Mr. Hayward bent his neck. “Yes, Lady Naomi? Is there something I can do for you?”

It was an effort to escape the snare of Jordan’s eyes and return her attention to Mr. Hayward. His own demeanor was much softer than Jordan’s. Curiosity and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
You can marry me,
she almost blurted. What if he really was her last chance? She couldn’t afford to let him slip away.

Color flooded her face. Naomi’s eyes dropped and she wrung her hands at her waist. “I’m feeling rather flushed,” she said, “and I wondered if I might beg your escort for some … ” She raised her gaze to Mr. Hayward’s astonished face. “For some air,” she finished quietly.

Mr. Hayward’s brows rose a fraction; his smile vanished. “Of course, my lady.” Rather than offer his arm, he took her hand and spirited her out of the salon and back down the corridor to the library he and the others had just vacated. He swung the door to, but did not close it completely.

Naomi started to pull her hand free of his, but Mr. Hayward instead tucked it into his arm. He looked seriously at her, but she caught a hint of something … heated … in his gaze. Swallowing around a bundle of nerves in her throat, she smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Hayward. The salon has grown intolerably warm.”

He led her on a turn around the room. A moment passed in silence before he spoke. “It is a pleasure to serve you, my lady, but I do wonder that you should require an escort in your own home.” Abruptly, he stopped and faced her. Naomi’s back was almost against Marshall’s prized collection of botanical-research volumes. He held her in a sharp gaze.

“I … ” she began. Her heart pounded in her ears while her mind went blank. How on earth did women go about catching themselves a husband? This all felt so awkward and unnatural. “I must admit I desired your company,” she said at last.

Mr. Hayward’s eyes dropped to her lips. Lifting her hands, he pressed a kiss against the back of the right and then the left. He lowered their arms and slipped his hands around her waist. “I have long desired your company,” he murmured.

As he drew her close, Naomi caught a strong whiff of alcohol on him. She held her breath as she tilted her chin up, certain he would only press his lips chastely against hers for a second.

But he did not.

His mouth crashed down on top of hers with a force that made her eyes fly open in alarm. Mr. Hayward’s arms clamped around her middle and drew her body full against him. Naomi’s head swam. She brought her hands to his shoulders, uncertain whether she ought to force him away or draw him nearer. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant kiss, but so, so … sudden. And forceful.