Regency 03 - Deception (4 page)

“
I am sorry, Doll,” Aurora said
with an apologetic smile. The look on Verena’s face told her that
her friend had noticed the source of Aurora’s preoccupation. She
flushed in embarrassment.

Other guests approached in that moment.

“
Levi was introduced to the
beautiful newcomer,” said a handsome man with blond hair and
teasing blue eyes. “Now it is my turn. Allow me to introduce
myself. I am Connor Northwicke. Verena’s husband,” he added at
Aurora’s look of incomprehension.

“
You are married?” Aurora said,
wide-eyed. She hastily curtsied as Ellie whispered that he was a
marquess. “You are a marchioness?” she added then.

Verena laughed and tucked her hand into her
husband’s arm after he had been introduced to Miss Ellison and
bowed to both ladies. “I am, although the title is the Marquess of
Beverley and Con and I choose not to use it.” A shadow passed over
her face but it was replaced with a bright smile. “It has been
almost three years now,” she replied, a happy smile directed at her
husband.

“
Is it my turn yet?” inquired a
cynical voice just behind Aurora.

“
Behave, Adam, or else,” commanded
a pleasant feminine voice.

“
Or else what, my
love?”

“
Oh, I don’t know,” she said in
exasperation. “Just,
or else
.”

Aurora turned and found herself looking up at the
Countess of Rothsmere and Sir Adam Prestwich. She smiled
uncertainly. They were both so much taller than her that they
actually made her a trifle uncomfortable.

The baronet bowed and lifted her hand to his lips,
bestowing a kiss there that had his wife scowling at him. A nervous
giggle escaped before Aurora could stop it.

“
Adam, you are embarrassing the
girl,” his wife admonished. “She hasn’t even been introduced yet
and you are already flirting with her.”

“
For shame,” Lord Connor added
with a twinkle.

“
I know who you are,” Aurora
offered hesitantly. She smiled at the raised brows of her new
companions.

“
Our infamy, I mean, fame precedes
us,” Sir Adam remarked with a smirk. “What gossipmonger has been
filling your head with tales of our exploits?”

“
I assure you, it was no such
thing, Sir Adam,” Aurora replied in all sincerity.

Adam inhaled. “Egad, she does know me. What else
does she know, think you?” he directed at the group in general.

Verena laughed and rapped the baronet over the
knuckles with her fan. “Leave her be, Adam. I’ll not have you
teasing poor Rory just so you can see her blushes.”

But Aurora wasn’t blushing. She studied the
baronet’s wife with interest. It appeared that the lady was used to
her husband’s flirting and all her admonishments were merely show.
Intriguing.

How different from Verena and her husband. Lord
Connor teased but didn’t flirt and he was clearly devoted to his
wife. Aurora was glad. She knew there was something in Verena’s
past that haunted her and it was obvious that her husband had
helped to put it behind her.

The countess held out her hand. “I am Lady
Prestwich. But I insist you call me Bri or Brianna. We are going to
be friends, you see.”

Aurora took the hand offered her and shook it,
shocked at the level of informality the countess demanded. “I do
hope so, my la—” she blushed. “I mean, Bri. I am Aurora, or Rory,
if you prefer. This is Miss Ellison, my friend and companion. She
keeps me out of trouble,” she explained with a charming grin that
revealed a dimple in her left cheek.

“
We all need someone to do that,”
Lord Connor inserted with a playful look directed at his wife.
“That is why I’m married.”

“
Aurora?” Bri said suddenly. She
didn’t wait for an answer. She looked at Verena. “Isn’t that little
Julie’s second name, my dear?” she asked.

“
Oh, yes.”

Aurora’s glanced from one woman to the other. “Who
is Julie?”

“
Juliana is Con and Verena’s
daughter,” Sir Adam informed her.

Aurora looked at her friend again. “Truly?” she
whispered.

Verena nodded silently as tears pooled in her violet
eyes. Aurora felt answering tears form in her own eyes. “You
remembered.”

The looks of surprise, shock, and curiosity were
genuine this time. A tear slipped down Verena’s cheek; one slipped
down Aurora’s.

“
I think we need champagne,” Adam
commented quietly to Northwicke. They retreated from the emotional
females to seek out the refreshment room.

“
We are drawing a crowd,” Bri
murmured to Miss Ellison. The older woman nodded. “Blast!” the
countess exclaimed suddenly. Miss Ellison looked at her in shock.
Bri apologized for her language. “My cousin, Greville,
approaches.”

Miss Ellison understood immediately. She grasped
Aurora’s arm, the countess grasped Lady Connor’s, and the pair
hurried the weeping females out of the salon and into a blessedly
deserted antechamber where they could have some privacy.

~~~~~~

Levi scowled so fiercely that the little
débutante
closest to him shrieked in fright and buried her
head in her mother’s ample bosom.

Blast. He’d lost them. He wandered up and down the
corridor, around corners, through vast salons, and still found nary
a sign of the ladies. Just where the devil did they go?

He heard a charming laugh somewhere to his left. He
turned toward the room and put his hand on the handle. Then he
heard a masculine laugh and an answering giggle. He backed away.
That was most definitely not them.

He finally gave up and returned to the ballroom. And
there she was, standing on the other side of the room and laughing
at something Lord Delwyn Deverell said, blast him. Levi fought the
urge to march across the room and call Deverell out. It would make
him a laughingstock to do something so tottyheaded over a girl he
had only just met and with whom he had exchanged no more than three
or four sentences, if that.

So he growled instead, taking no notice of the
charming widow at his side who suddenly backed away from him.

Calling Deverell out was not a good idea anyway.
Their friendship might not stand up to such a drastic test. He’d
known the duke’s son since Eton but they had never been very
close.

Miss Glendenning smiled up at Deverell. Levi shifted
his feet, uncomfortable with his jealousy. But he’d never been one
to hesitate when he wanted something.

And he wanted her.

The thought of marrying the saucy Miss Glendenning
was not as frightening as the thought of life with any of the other
ladies upon whom he’d showered his attentions of late.

One of those very ladies spotted him and moved his
way. He considered running for his life as she was the one chit
that he did not want. Her father had already made it quite plain,
however, that he would favor the match and her dowry was nothing to
scoff at.

“
Lord Greville, what a delight, to
be sure,” Lady Marigold Danvers enthused brightly.

Levi bowed. “The delight is mine, I assure you.”
As delightful as
being shot in the foot…or the knee.
Definitely the knee.

She giggled and held out her hand. Levi just barely
restrained himself from glancing heavenward and dutifully kissed
the air above the appendage. She giggled again.

“
Did you see Lady Margaret’s
dress, my lord?” Lady Marigold said from behind her fan. “I do
declare she finds the most untalented
modiste
in London just
so she can stand out.”

Since the young lady in question lacked the funds to
frequent the latest
modiste
favored by the
ton
, she
made most of her own clothes. Unfortunately, her expertise with a
needle left something to be desired. The lines of the pink gown
were all wrong for her angular and rather bony figure and the color
clashed horribly with her flame red hair. It was also well known
that she would much rather be on a horse than at any
ton
gathering so she never seemed to care what she looked like.

She was a very sweet girl, however, with absolutely
no malice or guile in her. Levi had had several occasions in which
to converse with her and had found her quite pleasant to be around.
He thought it was a shame that the gentlemen ignored her just
because she hadn’t the fashion sense God gave a goat.

He looked down at his companion with something akin
to dislike. He would starve alone in the gutter before he’d marry
such a spiteful cat as Lady Marigold, he swore to himself.

Then he almost laughed. If Lady Margaret lacked the
fashion sense God gave a goat then Lady Marigold lacked the fashion
sense God gave a flea. The delicate peach color of her gown was
flattering, it was true, but she seemed to think that the more bows
and flounces she could fit into the design the better.

“
Perhaps I should give her a few
tips,” his little blond companion murmured.

“
How excessively kind of you, my
lady, to think of those less fortunate than yourself. I am sure she
would appreciate any help you would be willing to give.”
Not
bloody likely.

She giggled. Again. Could the girl make any other
sound? And just when had she decided that giggling all the time
would attract a husband? He remembered a time when she wasn’t
nearly so insipid or stupid. Perhaps losing the illustrious title
of Marchioness of Beverley had convinced her that she was going
about this husband-attracting business all wrong.

“
My lord Greville, have you
forgotten me?”

He nearly groaned. “Of course not, my dear Miss
Weatherby. How do you do?”
Enter spiteful little cat number
two….

He bowed over yet another hand while she informed
him that she was excessively well.

“
Lady Mari and I were just
discussing the merits of certain London
modistes
,” he said,
hoping to get the two ladies to chat and give him a chance to
escape. Whose harebrained idea was it for him to find a bride
anyway?

He seemed to recall Adam saying something to that
effect.

“
Indeed,” the newcomer drawled as
she cast an experienced eye over Lady Marigold’s ensemble. “And who
do you patronize, my lady? I want to be sure to avoid
her.”

Since Miss Suzanne Weatherby frequented only the
best of shops, her own gown of scarlet silk was the very height of
fashion. Cut low over the bosom and high at the waist with a short
enough skirt to show tantalizing glimpses of a well-turned ankle,
it was forgivable that many gentlemen thought more of tumbling her
into a bed than sliding a ring onto her finger.

Levi wanted neither. But the girl had a dowry of
twenty thousand pounds. Her age declared her to be on the shelf.
Why, she had to be at least four and twenty! Which accounted for
her very un-
débutante
choices in dress colors and
styles.

Lady Marigold frowned, mumbled something incoherent,
and scurried away. Levi watched her exit with mixed feelings. He
preferred his chosen brides in diluted company. Being alone with
any one of them was a fairly accurate glimpse of hell, in his
opinion.

“
My lord, you are not attending,”
said Miss Weatherby in her throaty voice. She laid one perfectly
manicured hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “Would you like to
find a place where we can be…private?”

Good God, no!
“And deprive all these other
gentlemen of your charming company? I could not be so selfish.”
But I am more than willing to pawn you off on any of
them.

And that’s what he did. He found Lord Acton stood
quite near. Never having liked the stiff-rumped young man, the earl
felt no qualms about leaving the hellcat on the lord’s arm.

Good,
he thought as he walked away,
now
everyone’s happy and I can seek out my fairy princess.

“
Hello, Lord Greville.”

He stopped, groaned silently and turned, affixing a
social smile to his face. He bowed. “Good evening, Lady
Regina.”

She did not hold out her hand. Levi liked her all
the better for it. “How is your father?” he inquired politely.

“
He is quite well, thank you.”
There was an awkward pause. Then she looked away and sighed. “Have
you met Miss Glendenning, my lord? I find her to be quite
personable.”

“
Indeed. I would have to agree
although I have had little opportunity to converse with the young
lady. Do you know her well?”
Please don’t say she loves
cats.

“
I have only just met her this
very evening. Lady Connor was kind enough to introduce
us.”

“
Indeed. And you found her to be
quite likable?”

“
Oh, yes. She was quite enchanted
with the latest antic of my cat, Loki.”

No. Please. Don’t. Blast.

“
Apparently,” Lady Regina said as
she leaned closer, “my dear little Loki thought it would be great
fun to present mama with a darling little gift. Mama took exception
to being the recipient of a dead shrew.”

The Countess of Greenwood
would
take
exception to a dead version of herself.

In for a penny…
“So what did you do?”
Throw the little beast into oncoming traffic?

The very lovely Lady Regina Trent shrugged one
delicate shoulder. “I had Benning take care of it.” Then she
grinned, a surprisingly charming expression lighting her features.
“Loki took exception to that and shredded poor Benning’s leg.”