Convenient Proposal To The Lady

‘And what a lovely gown! You look so...fashionable,’ Rossiter added.

Normally, Alyssa responded to compliments from a gentleman in monosyllables and evaded his company as soon as possible. This time, she fluttered her lashes at Rossiter and tried to manufacture a blush. ‘Oh, do you really think so?’

‘Absolutely! The prettiest lady here,’ Rossiter said.

Since that was patently untrue, Alyssa had to suppress a strong desire to roll her eyes. Instead, she peeped shyly up at him. ‘You are very kind, Mr Rossiter!’

‘Merely truthful, Lady Alyssa. Lady Fulton is about to begin a game of charades in the salon. Won’t you join me?’ He offered his arm.

‘She ought to accompany me,’ Quinlen said. ‘I’m a much cleverer partner.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Alyssa said, putting her hands to her cheeks in mock distress. ‘I shouldn’t wish to slight either of you!’

‘Give an arm to each, then,’ Quinlen said, offering his.

‘I’m really not very good at charades,’ she added, assuming the role of bashful wallflower they expected. ‘You gentlemen would do better partnering another lady.’

‘Nonsense, there’s no one here I would prefer to you,’ Quinlen said.

‘Quite true!’ Rossiter added.

Embarrassed in truth at all the falsehoods being exchanged, she had no trouble summoning a blush. ‘Well, if you are quite sure you want my company...’

As both gentlemen waited expectantly, Alyssa gave a hand to each and allowed them to walk her to the salon. Since they didn’t think her witty enough to add much to the conversation, she was able to get by with murmuring a few ‘yesses’ and ‘nos’ as they entertained her with London gossip.

She made a great show of refusing to participate in the charades, and when finally ‘persuaded’ to play, was so hopeless at giving or interpreting clues that her mother, speechless at the abysmal performance of her normally needle-witted daughter, pulled her aside to ask in an undertone whether she felt quite well.

‘I’m fine, Mama,’ she whispered back. ‘I didn’t wish to outdo the other participants, especially not when Mr Quinlen and Mr Rossiter are showing me such flattering attention. Haven’t you always told me gentlemen don’t truly wish for intelligence in a wife?’

‘Yes, but you’ve never before paid me any heed,’ Lady Aldermont replied.

The game broke up, and with the day turned warm and fair, plans were being made to walk in the garden when Lady Fulton announced a newcomer was joining them. Striding into the parlour came Lord Denbry, greeting his hostess and apologising for making a tardy arrival at her party. As he bent to whisper something in her ear that made her blush, his gaze roved the room—before finding, and resting on, Alyssa.

She didn’t have to feign the heat that touched her cheeks at his blatantly appraising glance. So this was Denbry, her brother’s detested competitor for winning women, games of chance and eager acolytes. Though she’d never met him, she’d heard enough about him from her brother to have been on her guard, even without Mr Tawny’s warning.

Above medium height, dressed in the vanguard of fashion in a coat flared at the shoulder and nipped in at the waist, he looked wealthy, handsome and arrogant. She already knew that he, like her brother, used those good looks to charm hapless women out of their virtue and induce gentlemen to grant him whatever he desired.

And what he currently desired, apparently, was to see her ruined.

If Mr Tawny hadn’t been so persuasive, she’d have found it almost impossible to believe this stranger would casually plan to destroy her. If she could prove to herself that was truly his intent, it might be time he was taught a salutatory lesson.

He wasn’t the only one who could plot.

As she watched covertly, he made a circuit of the room, letting each lady bask in his charming smile and tossing greetings to the competing swains that changed their resentful looks to pleasant, if not entirely friendly, nods.

Not until he’d greeted everyone else did he approach Alyssa.

‘Quinlen, Rossiter, good to see you,’ he said, shaking both gentlemen’s hands. ‘I’ve left the best for last. Won’t one of you introduce me to this ravishing creature?’

A good ploy—if she were a woman whose interest he wanted to pique. A wallflower who’d wistfully watched his progress around the room, knowing she hadn’t the wit or beauty to catch his notice, and therefore shocked and thrilled to have attracted it. That unjustified bit of flattery seemed to reinforce that enticing her was exactly what he intended.

‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, may I present the Earl of Denbry?’ Rossiter dutifully pronounced.

She dropped a curtsy, ready to resume playing her part. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Lord Denbry,’ she said, trying to imbue her voice with just the right tone of flustered gratification. ‘Although you are far too kind! I know I’m not...ravishing.’

She gazed up at him, aiming for the pleading expression of one who knows better, but hopes to be persuaded anyway that the gentleman finds her attractive.

‘You are to me,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her hand.

Knowing his intentions, at the press of his lips against her fingers she almost jerked away. Catching herself, she uttered instead a little ‘ooh’ of gratification.

If she hadn’t been forewarned, she might have missed the knowing smile that passed between Quinlen and Rossiter.

Were most females so self-deceiving? she wondered with disgust. Or so desperate to marry that they persuaded themselves to believe what common sense argued against?

But she shouldn’t judge her sex too harshly. She had resources to support herself, mitigating the need to wed. How desperate might she be, if the alternative to marriage were destitution, or a life as an unpaid servant, shunted from family member to family member to assist with children, the ill or the elderly?

‘The party is about to walk in the gardens. Won’t you let me escort you?’ Denbry asked, giving Quinlen and Rossiter a little wave of dismissal.

The speed with which they abandoned the field reinforced Tawny’s contention that Denbry was the ringleader of the plot. ‘Well, I don’t know. My brother has told me a lot about you,’ she said, aiming for a tone of both curiosity and reproof.

‘Probably none of it good!’ Denbry said with a groan. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, your brother and I having been friendly competitors for years, so you mustn’t believe everything he says! Please allow me to walk with you, that I might have a chance to defend myself.’

He gazed at her with such a look of warm entreaty, she could understand how females unaware of his true character might find themselves beguiled. ‘I suppose that is only fair.’

Tucking her hand under his, he walked her from the salon towards the garden. ‘Just what has your brother told you about me?’

Another good ploy, Alyssa thought. Find out what you need to explain away. ‘That you’ve often competed in races with horses or curricles and gambled with each other, sometimes for high stakes. And then, there were...’ she dropped her voice, as if embarrassed ʻ...certain, um, ladies...’

‘All true.’ He leaned closer, so that he was almost whispering. ‘Though it was very naughty of your brother to mention the ladies.’

A whiff of sin, designed to titillate, she thought. ‘It does make me wonder what you are doing at this gathering of eligible maidens.’

‘Perhaps your brother has not reached this point yet, but there comes a time when a man grows tired of pursuing idle pleasures. When he begins to long for a more...settled life and one special lady to share it.’

If it were not for the slight smirk at the end of that speech, she could almost be fooled herself by his apparent sincerity.

‘And you have...reached this milestone, Lord Denbry?’

‘I believe I have.’

‘You are anticipating the next Season, then, so you may seek that...special lady.’

‘Not if I am fortunate enough to find her before then.’

‘And how will you know when you have found her?’

‘One just...knows.’ He tipped her chin up with one finger. ‘Do you not believe so, my lovely Lady Alyssa?’ he murmured, gazing into her eyes.