My Lady Mischief (17 page)

Lord Steyne had put his foot down. The girls' come-out ball would not include any gypsy accoutrements. Instead, it would be a quiet, elegant affair. As indeed it turned out to be. Subdued guests, sparkling in their finery, milled about the room.

Mrs. Cresswell, unbecomingly dressed in a pale green and purple gown, had taken up a position not far from the receiving line, surveying each new arrival and passing out praise or pity, whichever she deemed appropriate. Melinda, as always perfectly attired, and the new Lord Gibbons, looking his handsome best, stood nearby, tolerating Mrs. Cresswell's peevish pronouncements.

"Here comes Lady Pemberton with her youngest chit. She managed, with virtually no dowries to speak of, to fire off her four eldest girls quite creditably. While this child's a beauty, she's also a proper frip. I think she can look much higher this time around." Mrs. Cresswell's gaze turned back to her daughter and family friend. "Ah, that reminds me, Melinda. Tonight you will begin cultivating the acquaintance of Lady Althea Candler."

The young woman gasped. With a level whisper, she demanded, "Whatever for, Mama? She holds it within her hands to utterly ruin me."

"That is exactly my thinking, daughter. However, if you are on terms with her, she will be less inclined to destroy your reputation. I know we may depend on Lord Hartingfield to say nothing." Her lips twisted. "His code of honor will prevent it."

"I cannot see why that would stop him," said Gibbons. "He would most likely enjoy the sport in destroying," his tone became malicious, "a paragon like Miss Cresswell."

"If you do not understand," replied Mrs. Cresswell heatedly, "then I'll not trouble explaining it." She waved a garish orange fan to cool her heated cheeks. "Do not despair, Melinda. You will come about. And
Lady Althea is our first step. Look, she's coming this way."

The older woman unhappily noted that Lady Althea, attired in a pale green lace concoction, looked especially radiant. Like diamonds, mischief glittered in her green eyes and an attractive smile lit her face.

Mrs. Cresswell had been disappointed in her nephew, Sir Dudley. He hadn't put himself out at all in pursuit of Lady Althea. When he refused to come to the ball tonight, she'd wanted to throw up her hands in exasperation.

But then, another thought had occurred to her. Charles Fossbinder, Lord Gibbons, had recently come into the title. Using her connections with his mother, she'd been able to accept her invitation with him serving as escort. Now, if he'd only do what he'd agreed to do: remove Melinda's competition, namely, Lady Althea.

He'd implied, and she was rather inclined to believe him, that the girl thought herself in love with him. It shouldn't be too difficult for him to place her in a situation that would necessitate their marriage. Then the field would be clear for Melinda to go after Lord Hartingfield. Yes, it was a clever plan.

"Careful, young ones, on your toes." When Gibbons failed to move, Mrs. Cresswell prodded him in the back. "Do not forget the fortune that will be yours if you can but achieve her hand, young man. It is far too large to whistle down the wind. We will begin, Melinda, by your passing her this note."

Thea and Emma joined Mr. McCormack beside a potted palm. Emma, who had received disgruntled approval from her family, planned to have Lord Steyne announce their betrothal later this night. She was in high spirits, dimples showing.

Emma was the first to see the approaching Cresswell party. "Don't look now, Thea, but those awful Cresswells are coming this way with Charles in tow. Perhaps, if we move away, we can avoid them."

"We have done nothing of which to be ashamed." Thea bestowed a cool smile on the Cresswells and Lord Gibbons.

"This is a delightful gathering," said Charles as he bowed to the group, but had eyes only for her.

"Aunt Prunella has outdone herself," replied Thea. "You look lovely tonight, Melinda."

"Thank you," Melinda replied as her mother and Lord Gibbons moved on. "Your gown is lovely."

"Why, thank you." Thea wondered why Melinda had chosen to remain behind until the young woman thrust an envelope into her hands.

"I rely upon your good nature," was Melinda's cryptic reply as she turned to rejoin her mother.

Thea glanced at the note, then moved to a remote corner where she could examine its contents. After quickly scanning it, she was more confused than ever. Why did Melinda wish to meet her in the library? Perhaps she was embarrassed by her behavior in attempting to attract Hart and wished to tender an apology? Although, any apology should be directed to Hart rather than Thea. Perhaps Melinda feared Thea would spread gossip about her and wished to ask that she remain quiet.

Thea's brow creased as she glanced about the crowded room. Whatever the reason, she had little choice but to agree to the
tete-á-tete.

As the clock chimed the hour, Thea glanced about once more to make sure no one would notice her stealthy departure. Papa had announced the engagement between Emma and Mack, who were now dancing and fortunately attracting everyone's attention.

She would meet Melinda, discover what she wanted of her, then return to the ballroom as soon as possible. Her aunt appeared to be in rapt discussion with her cronies and for once there would be no interference from Hart because he'd not made an appearance. Blast the man.

Accordingly, she slipped into the corridor.

Upon entering the library, she was taken aback by how shadowy and dark the room was. She called, "Melinda?"

Instead of the young woman, Thea was startled when Charles stepped from a shady corner of the room. In one hand he held a snifter of her aunt's fine brandy, and in the other, a lighted cheroot wafted a thin trail of smoke. He doused the cheroot in the brandy, the sizzle loud despite the noise from the nearby ballroom.

"Have you seen Melinda?" she asked, uncertain why she suddenly felt unsure of herself and the situation, as if something was amiss. Completely losing her courage, she spun to leave the room.

"Ah, Lady Althea," said Charles silkily. "You don't mean to leave so soon? I'm sure Melinda will arrive shortly."

Thea turned back, undecided whether she should stay or go. Courtesy demanded that she at least speak to him. "I am sorry," she said, eyes gazing at the Aubusson carpet beneath her feet, "but I find this rather awkward. Please excuse me."

"I have thought many things about you, Lady Althea," he cunningly replied. "But I never thought you fainthearted."

"I am not fainthearted."

"Then why are you leaving?" he demanded. He closed the distance between them and took her arm. "Come, cry friends. Although my heart may never recover, I hope you will retain a small corner of your heart for the boy who shared your childhood episodes."

She felt herself weakening.

"Melinda assured me she would soon join us." When Thea hesitated, he positioned himself between her and the door. "Pray, tell me about your stay in London. I'm sure with all its entertainments, you've found many things of interest."

Thea sensed she was being manipulated but did not know how to avoid it. "It has been exciting but my schedule has been so crowded with social events, I haven't had much time to see the sights. Have you visited any of the museums?"

"No. I'm afraid that never piqued my interest." He closed the library door. "But I am ever open to new ideas." He came forward and placed his hand beneath her chin. Lifting it, he looked directly into her eyes. "Are you?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." She stepped back into the room, but Charles didn't release his hold on her. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, encircling her waist.

Hart's embraces had never been like this. He had never forced her to do what she did not wish.

She tried to push away, pummeling Charles with her fists, furious that he would force an embrace in this manner, furious with herself for being in such a predicament, furious that she had not realized, until now, this very moment, that she was in love with Hart. Drat the man, where was he when she needed him?

Charles continued his crushing embrace, bending her back over his arm at an awkward angle. She lost her balance and rather than continue fighting him, she found it necessary to clutch his lapels if she did not wish to end up on the floor. He bent closer to steal a kiss but she turned her face away. Then she heard the door open.

Thank goodness, rescue at last!

*

Lord Hartingfield arrived at the ball with a harried look on his face. Lord Steyne immediately came forward to greet the late arrival.

"Hart, I'd given you up!" His father, the Duke of Devonshrop, stood by Steyne's side, looking as if he'd like to throttle his son.

Steyne welcomed him with a hearty back slap, almost knocking Hart's breath away.

Grimacing, he answered, "I regret my tardiness but I was delayed by a matter of business." Surely it wasn't stretching the truth too far. After all, when Henry had run off after dark in search of a missing Uncle Egbert, it had been imperative that the boy be found forthwith. Of course Egbert was soon located in Hart's study. But it had taken the greater part of an hour to locate Henry.

Hart's eyes scanned the crowded ballroom. "I am certain Lady Althea has been proclaimed an unqualified success." He turned back to the men. "Where may I find her to bestow my congratulations?"

"I might have known it wasn't my company you sought." Lord Steyne laughed.

"Yes, she is a success," announced the duke. "She's here somewhere." He waved an arm about the ballroom. "As you said, Lady Althea is an incomparable, a veritable diamond. I was afraid you'd choose some namby-pamby schoolroom miss for a wife." His tone grew warm. "I am pleased to know you have followed in my footsteps and exercised the utmost in good taste."

"She hasn't yet agreed to have me, you know."

His father looked at him with disappointment. "Of course she will have you. You're the heir to a dukedom, for heaven's sake! Though, that didn't count for much with her mama, did it, Steyne?"

The earl shook his head. "She'll make up her own heart, title or no."

"Do you need some hints," asked the duke, "for the proper way to conduct a courtship? I assure you, Steyne and I would be most pleased to advise you in any way."

"Thank you, Father, but no. I will persist." He directed a solemn smile at the earl. "A great authority on matters of love—Mack, to be exact—has assured me that persistence pays off."

"Perhaps you should have consulted him earlier. I wish you luck of it," said his father with a hearty grin.

"You're most likely wishing us to Hades," Steyne added with a knowing look. "Keeping you here jabbering this way. Be off with you and do your best, it cannot fail."

"Thank you for the encouragement, gentlemen." Hart swept his gaze over the guests, when Lady Prunella caught his attention. He quickly joined her. "You have outdone yourself, Ma'am. And, may I say you are in looks, as ever, this evening."

"You, as well," Lady Prunella replied absently then returned to her perusal the room. A worried farrow etched her brow. "Thea disappeared from the ballroom some moments ago, Lord Hartingfield. I believe she entered the library. And I also believe that Lord Gibbons was already in that room. Do you comprehend my concern?"

Hart's jaw tightened. "Has anyone noticed her absence?"

"Not yet, but I fear they soon may."

"Do not worry, Lady Prunella. I will see if she requires my assistance."

"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "That quite eases my mind."

The orchestra struck up a waltz. People appeared from nowhere and the once merely crowded ballroom became insufferably congested. Hart crossed the room, and with every step, some individual would call to him, laying claim to his attention. When he thought he had run the gamut, having achieved the entrance to the hallway, he nearly collided with Mack and Miss Rawlings.

"Hart," said Mack in a friendly voice. "I was sure we would eventually have your company this evening." Emma stood by his side with a fretful smile. She glanced to the library door and back at Hart.

Was she concerned about Thea? Or was she worried he'd find her? "I understand Lady Althea is in the library. If you will excuse me, I must be on my way."

Emma insinuated herself between the hallway and him, shaking her head. "I shouldn't go in there, Lord Hartingfield."

"Whyever not?"

"Thea is not alone."

Hart pushed past her, "All the more reason for my timely intervention." Mack and Emma followed him, quite like a mother duck with her ducklings, he noted with a grim smile and pushed open the library door.

An unappetizing tableau met his gaze.

There before his eyes, stood Thea entwined in the arms of that doltish farmer, both caught up in an enraptured kiss. He felt the presence of the two behind him, the solidity of the floor beneath his feet, the current of warm air as it circulated the room, but his head had been stuffed full of cotton wadding. He couldn't think what to do next.

One minute, he felt he should intercede, then the next he wanted to throttle her. Perhaps he could debonairly ask if they wanted some privacy?

Emma, whose face turned grey, observed the tableau with Mack from their positions just within the doorway. They were soon joined by a worried-looking Lady Prunella and an ecstatic Mrs. Cresswell.

Hart took one last look at the enraptured couple before stalking from the room. Thea had been telling him the truth: she was not in love with him. In fact, he now wondered if she kissed all gentlemen with such enthusiasm.

He'd accused her of being stubborn but he was the one who was pigheadedly arrogant. Why he ever imagined she could love him was beyond reasoning.

The women who had been chasing him from youth onward had amply demonstrated it to him, if only he had paid attention to the lesson. He was lovable only for his title and his wealth. At least Thea had been honest in her dealings with him. She'd always said that title and wealth were not what she wanted. She wanted love and now she appeared to have found it—in the arms of some other man.

*

Thea squirmed, trying to find some way to escape Lord Gibbon's clutches. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hart arrive and her muscles relaxed imperceptibly. He would put paid to her attacker.