Julia Justiss - Rogue's Lady

Even as Will nodded and smiled, the gentlemen started to follow the ladies out. When the last one exited, Will sat back down and took a long, fortifying pull on his wineglass. It appeared this business of finding a rich wife would be even more distasteful than he’d envisioned.

He had just finished the wine when Lucilla returned. “Bless you, cousin,” he said. “Two more minutes and I would have cast myself facedown into the syllabub.”

Though Lucilla clucked in disapproval, her eyes danced. “I’ll allow that Miss Benton-Wythe’s voice is a trifle…grating.”

“I should have enjoyed hearing more of Miss Rysdale’s. But after I delivered a very mild tribute to her appearance, she looked as if she thought I meant to ravish her upon the spot and spent the rest of the meal communing with the china.”

Lucilla sighed. “Someone must have carried tales to her about your wicked reputation. She is rather timid.”

“Perhaps I should have reassured her that I do not seduce children,” Will returned. “I must warn you, grateful as I am for your support, if this is a sample of what I can expect in the Marriage Mart, I’d rather resign myself to my rooms in Chelsea.”

Lucilla shook her head. “Not all the eligible young ladies are being fired straight from the schoolroom, as Cecelia and Miss Benton-Wythe are. You shall encounter a much larger variety shortly at Lady Ormsby’s rout. Besides, you promised to be my escort for the Season and I’m not about to let you wiggle out of that! Let me collect my cloak and we can be off.”

“Will there be a card room? Winning a few hands of pique would help restore my good humor.”

“Yes, there should be some play. And I don’t mean to be unreasonable. Once I’ve introduced you around—and you have stood up with me twice, for I must dance!—if you meet no lady who engages your interest, I will cede you to the card room.”

“In that case, I am yours to command,” Will said.

AN HOUR LATER, wearing the most beautiful gown she’d ever owned and knowing she looked her best, Allegra stood in the shadows of Lady Ormsby’s entryway. A Lynton footman had caught up with them just as they arrived with a note for Rob from his estate manager that, Rob said, apologizing to them for the delay, required an immediate response. Retreating out of the press of arriving guests, she waited with Mrs. Randall for Rob to complete his business so they might go up.

She should be giddy with anticipation at attending her very first ton party. Instead, she was tense and wary despite the promise of having Rob beside her all evening, looking, she thought, a pleasant flutter in her chest as she gazed over to him, handsomer than a prince in his elegant evening attire.

Unfortunately, in the three weeks since Rob had dramatically altered her life, it had quickly become evident that Mrs. Letitia Randall, the cousin he had invited to London to fill the roll of chaperone, was no match for the cunning—and malice—of Sapphira Lynton.

Beginning soon after the slamming of the door and the wail of weeping that had followed Rob’s proclamation of Allegra’s change of status, Lady Lynton had done all within her power to circumvent and frustrate Rob’s intention to raise Allegra to a place within the ton. With a feminine guile that was impossible for Allegra to prove and would be difficult for Rob’s masculine mind to comprehend, her intervention had been by indirection or subterfuge.

“La, I’m much too cast down to traipse all over town spending Lynton’s blunt,” Sapphira had proclaimed when the meek Mrs. Randall asked her to advise them on the acquiring of Allegra’s wardrobe. “I suppose I could pen a note to the modistes I favor, recommending styles, colors and fabrics for Allegra’s gowns. Fitting her out fashionably is going to be difficult, though, Tall Meg that she is.”

And write she had, Allegra thought, clamping her lips together as she wondered just what exactly Sapphira had penned. For had Allegra not insisted upon following her own judgment, honed by years of observing costumes in opera and the theater, the modistes would have persuaded Mrs. Randall into purchasing Allegra a wardrobe of pink and white frocks profusely trimmed in lace and ribbon that would not have become her in the least.

While Lady Lynton also proclaimed herself too ill to accompany them paying social calls, she expressed an avid interest in discovering from Mrs. Randall each morning where they planned to visit. On numerous occasions, as they alighted from a hackney at the house of one or another of the ton’s hostesses, Allegra spied Lady Lynton’s carriage just leaving.

When they entered the drawing room thereafter, Allegra was met with stilted politeness, speculative looks—or outright silence, as conversation ceased while the ladies already present turned to stare at her.

Sapphira’s heavy floral perfume hanging in the air like the scent of smoke after a candle is snuffed, it was obvious from the careful omission of any inquiry about Allegra’s parents that someone had just re-illumined all the details of Lady Grace’s scandal. At times, annoyed and frustrated by the hypocrisy, only Allegra’s desire not to embarrass poor Mrs. Randall prevented her from boldly asking if her hostess had met Lady Grace after her marriage…and had that lady ever had the privilege of hearing her father play?

Even more dispiriting, since returning her to the family, Rob had left her entirely in Mrs. Randall’s care. She’d seen him but seldom and until tonight, had had no champion to stand beside her in the glare of society’s faintly hostile scrutiny.

She wouldn’t have minded the female disdain had she felt she was making some progress in luring Rob to act upon his observation that his little cousin had become a desirable woman. Though on the few occasions they’d met at home, she’d seen the same heated appreciation in his eyes, she could hardly bewitch him if he was so seldom present to be bewitched.

Thanks again to Sapphira, she thought with irritation. Apparently not content with her initial attempt to entice Rob, the first night he’d dined at home with them, Sapphira had been at her most alluring, gazing up at Rob, soliciting his comments and opinions, leaning down to display her bosom while passing him dishes, letting her fingers rest on his during the exchange. Grimacing with a distaste that was thrilling to Allegra, Rob had pointedly pulled his hand free, then quit the dining room as soon as dessert was served. He’d not eaten a meal with them since.

Thank heavens Sapphira had such overweening confidence in her own appeal that, since Rob resisted her, she’d not be able to conceive of him admiring any other woman. For if she ever discovered Allegra’s secret hope, she’d make life even more miserable for her.

But possessing the Antinori fierceness, Allegra wasn’t about to give up yet. Somehow she would find more opportunities to be with him—and make the most of the ones she had, like tonight.

Cheered by that resolution, she gave Rob her most glittering smile when at last, his instructions to the footman complete, he returned to offer each of them an arm.

“Are the loveliest ladies at the party ready to greet their hostess?”

“With you beside me, I’m ready for anything,” Allegra said, and put her hand firmly on his arm. Together they mounted the stairs to Lady Ormsby’s ballroom.

IN THE RECEIVING LINE upstairs, after smiling and bowing through a long round of introductions, Will led Lucilla toward the ballroom, doing his best to look as if he were interested in the proceedings. To his greetings, he’d received mostly blushing monosyllables from the younger maidens, speculative looks under veiled lashes from the older ones—and boldly inviting glances from two well-endowed widows.