Julia Justiss - Regency Secrets - My Lady's Trust

“It is the excellence of your address, I fear, that condemned you to this end of the table, so far away from the belle of the evening,” she replied, gesturing toward Lady Ardith. “For that I must truly apologize. Knowing how skillfully you converse with every member of society—” with a nod she indicated the querulous dowager to one side of him and the shy spinster on the other “—I’m afraid ‘tis I who placed you here.”

Mr. Blackthorne glanced at Lady Ardith, currently laughing as she plied her lashes at Dr. MacDonovan. “It cannot be lost on any gentleman present—” he leaned forward to murmur in a voice pitched for her ears alone “—who the true belle of the evening is. A lady whose beauty of countenance is matched by gentility of manner.”

Unsure how to politely discourage his ardency, Laura blessed Lady Winters, who rose at that moment, signaling the ladies to withdraw. “You will excuse me, sir?”

“If I must,” he said. “Until later, then.”

I certainly hope not, Laura thought as she followed her hostess from the room.

‘Twas time for Cinderella to depart, and not just to evade the attentions of the unexpectedly solicitous Mr. Blackthorne. Protected by the length of a dinner table, she’d been able to indulge her frivolous fantasies about Lord Beaulieu. But once the gentleman returned, there would be no barrier to his approaching her. Better to leave now, before Lord Beaulieu brushed away the fragile cobweb of her silly dream by ignoring her completely.

Or worse, made it all too real by approaching her.

In the parlor, the ladies took seats by age and inclination, save for Lady Ardith who, denied any other masculine attention, stood by the door dazzling a young footman. After the lad sprang away to fetch the wine she commanded, the lady drifted over to the window and stared out over the moonlit garden, one slippered foot tapping rhythmically against the floor.

Laura approached Lady Winters, intending to present her compliments and withdraw. But before she could utter a word, Lady Elspeth called to her.

“Please, Mrs. Martin, come sit by me.” Lord Beaulieu’s sister indicated the place beside her. “I’ve not had a chance to speak with you all evening.”

Much as Laura would prefer to leave forthwith, she could not do so without being rude to the lady who’d befriended her. Forcing a smile, she walked to the sofa.

“How fortunate you are, Lady Winters, to have such a charming, intelligent neighbor as Mrs. Martin. No, my dear, you must not blush!” Lady Elspeth patted Laura’s hand. “Dr. MacDonovan has sung your praises since the moment I arrived, and he is not a man to offer idle compliments. Indeed, have I not witnessed your skill for myself? I’m breeding, you see,” she informed the others, “and have been most horridly ill. Mrs. Martin prescribed a tea that has eased the discomfort.”

The neighborhood ladies all nodded. “‘Tis a rare blessing she is to the whole county, just like her dear aunt, Mrs. Hastings,” the knight’s wife said. “Especially since one never knows whether or not Dr. Winthrop will be … available.”

“All the more rare to find such skill in a lady of gentle birth,” Lady Elspeth continued. “How comforting it is to be able to discuss intimate matters with an equal.” She cast a glance toward Lady Ardith as she emphasized the word.

As if pricked by the remark, that lady looked back toward the company, her disdainful gaze coming to rest on Laura. It seemed she would speak, but apparently deciding that without a masculine audience to exploit she’d not bother, she turned back once again to the window.

“With me feeling so peevish, Mrs. Martin has kindly stepped in to take my daughter for her walks,” Lady Elspeth continued. “What a champion you have there, Mrs. Martin! Catherine can scarcely be contained until it is time for her outing, and comes back chattering of the clever things you’ve shown or said or read to her.”

“Ah, children,” said Lady Ardith from her window. “Charming creatures! So inexperienced, they possess no discrimination whatsoever.”

“The intelligent ones do, from quite an early age,” Lady Elspeth replied. “A shame you’ve apparently never encountered the like among your own family and friends.”

Lady Ardith pivoted to face Lord Beaulieu’s sister, a martial light sparking in her cold blue eyes. Fortunately for Laura’s peace of mind, at that moment the parlor door opened. In a rush of conversation flavored with the lingering odor of cigar, the gentlemen entered.

With a smile as glittering as her gown, Lady Ardith at once made for Lord Beaulieu. “Ah, my lord, thank you for joining us so speedily!” she cried, latching onto his arm. “Deprived of your company, we women are such dull creatures. Babies and potions … I declare—” she swept a dagger glance at Lady Elspeth “—Squire Everett’s winter garden is more interesting than the conversation we summon up.”

Dr. MacDonovan halted beside them. Was it Laura’s imagination, or did a subtle glance pass between the two men? “Ah, lass, I canna believe the lips of such an exquisite creature could pass on anything less than … delicious. Come,” he urged, taking the hand the lady had pressed on Lord Beaulieu’s arm, “let us find some wine. Then ye must speak to me and prove the yea or nay of it.”

It appeared that the lady might refuse, until the doctor leaned closer and murmured something that brought a satisfied smile to her face even as she laughed and batted his arm. “La, but you’re wicked,” she reproved, allowing Dr. MacDonovan to lead her to the sideboard.

Before Laura could look away, Lord Beaulieu’s gaze met hers. He rolled his eyes briefly, a gesture so indicative of relief she almost laughed out loud. Then he smiled again, a slight curve of lip and fire of glance that once again ignited every nerve and set the champagne bubbles dancing through her veins. His eyes holding hers, she sensed more than saw him approach.

“Thank you, brother, for the rescue,” Lady Elspeth murmured. “I was in dire danger of becoming … unladylike.”

Lord Beaulieu bent to kiss his sister’s cheek. “That, I could never believe,” he said with a grin.

With Lord Beaulieu a mere forearm’s length away, Laura could feel the heat emanating from his body, catch the faint scent of shaving soap and brandy. Almost, she could feel his hand once more resting on her shoulder, those lips dipping to brush her cheek. A shiver swept over her skin.

He turned to her, his grin fading as his imperious eyes found and commanded hers. Scraps of conversation, the popping of the fire, the clink of glasses faded, until she heard only the rapid beat of her pulse. While they both remained motionless, staring, she forgot even to breathe.

“Mrs. Martin,” he said at last. “How very beautiful you look tonight.”

“Th-thank you, my lord.”

“I had hoped we might—”

“Excuse me, my lord,” Squire Everett’s hearty voice startled her. “The card tables are set, and Lady Ardith is demanding we choose partners now and begin play.”

“Play,” the earl repeated, and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” He made them a quick bow.

Almost dizzy with happiness, Laura watched him walk away. He thought her beautiful. As she’d dreamed all evening, he’d come to her, stood by her, gifted her with that special smile that transported her to a magical realm where nothing existed but the two of them alone.

Better to leave now, before anything occurred to mar the perfection of an evening she would recall with wonder the rest of her days. Cinderella, mirrored in the eyes of her prince as “beautiful.”