Candice Hern (10 page)

"Oh! How kind of you." Her blue eyes grew large with excitement. "Thank you ever so much."

"Think nothing of it," Marianne said, smiling at such youthful enthusiasm. "These are charity balls, after all. We extort a great deal of money from Mr. Cazenove in exchange for invitations."

"Oh." Clarissa looked at Adam with confused distress. "I hadn't realized —"

"Mrs. Nesbitt is joking," Adam said as he patted the hand resting on his arm. "She does not extort money from me. I give it willingly to a worthy cause. As does everyone else in attendance."

"How silly of me." Clarissa blushed prettily and giggled. "I had forgotten about that aspect of the balls. They are so popular, and invitations so treasured, that it is easy to forget their true purpose."

"The balls are our biggest fund-raising activity," Marianne said. "Their success has been quite gratifying. But enough of that. I hope you will enjoy the ball. And I hope you and I can become friends, Miss Leighton-Blair. We shall be neighbors soon, after all. You and your mother must call on me. I am at home on Tuesdays."

"Thank you, Mrs. Nesbitt. I would like that."

"Miss Leighton-Blair? I believe it is our dance."

The gentleman's voice came from behind Marianne, so she turned to acknowledge him. It was Lord Julian Sherwood, dressed all in blue and silver and looking very dashing. No wonder Wilhelmina had recommended him. He was a very handsome young man.

"Cazenove, Mrs. Nesbitt," he said as he offered his arm to Clarissa.

Marianne caught his eye and smiled. He returned her smile and a discreet flicker of interest lit his eyes, reminding her of Wilhelmina's words. She moved her fan to her left hand, opened it, and held it in front of her face.

Lord Julian arched a brow. "Mrs. Nesbitt, are you perhaps free for the set after this one?"

"I am indeed."

"I would be honored if you would save it for me."

"I am happy to do so. Thank you, my lord."

He flashed a brilliant smile, then turned to lead Clarissa to the lines forming for the next set.

"Shameless hussy!" Adam whispered, his voice full of amusement. "And you said you did not know how to attract a man's attention. What are you up to? Lord Julian wasn't even on that damned list."

"It is a woman's prerogative to be spontaneous about these things." She closed her fan and rapped him with it playfully on the arm. "And it is none of your business, anyway."

"I believe, Mrs. Nesbitt, that too much dancing has had a dizzying effect on you, making rational thought an effort. Here, take my arm. I was going to invite you to join the set but I think a slow turn around the room would be better for your health."

Marianne laughed and placed her hand on his sleeve. "What a charming invitation. No wonder so many women find you irresistible."

"Everyone but you, my dear coquette."

"Because I know you too well. Besides," she teased, "you are no longer available."

"Unfortunate, but true. Once again I must express my regret for the timing of this quest of yours. A bit earlier and I might have saved you the effort of all that fan waving and offered up my poor self to your cause."

"So generous of you."

"What are friends for?"

He led them away from the crowds lining the walls and toward a large pair of doors opening onto the garden terrace. So they were not going to walk about the room after all. He opened the doors and they stepped out into the cool night air. Several couples strolled about the terrace and down the steps into the garden. Adam led her to one of several stone benches that skirted the terrace balustrade. Marianne took a seat and arranged her skirts with care for the delicate beadwork. Adam did not sit, but leaned against the railing instead.

"Thank you," he said, "for being so kind to Clarissa. That was very gracious of you to offer your friendship. I am sure she appreciated it."

"She is marrying my dearest friend, and so she must be my friend as well."

"I am pleased you feel that way, especially considering your initial reaction to our betrothal."

Marianne wrinkled her nose. "Do not remind me of my impertinence. I was exceedingly rude to you that night. I trust we can forget about it? We have agreed, have we not, to accept each other's plans without further debate? I will accept your young bride and try to be her friend, and you will stop teasing me about my ... quest."

His mouth curved into a roguish grin. "I never agreed to stop teasing you. It gives me too much pleasure to do so and puts such a lovely pink in your cheeks. I am only doing you a favor, my dear, by making you even more attractive to all those chaps on your list."

"You, sir, are a scoundrel."

"Guilty. But seriously, Marianne, I am very grateful for your efforts to befriend Clarissa. I know she is young, but perhaps you will find something in common once you get to know her."

And you, Adam? What do you have in common with her?

"She and I both want you to be happy," Marianne said, "so we have that in common already. And soon enough, we will have a balcony in common."

"Actually, I've been thinking of selling the house."

Marianne was momentarily stunned into silence. It seemed there would be changes she had not anticipated. She could not even imagine life without Adam close at hand. She took several steadying breaths before speaking. "You are moving away?"

"I am thinking of buying a larger house here in town. The Bruton Street house is fine enough for me, but I thought perhaps something a bit more spacious would be in order. Especially if there are children."

"Of course," she managed. "Clarissa will be pleased."

"I hope so. I have spoken with my solicitor about selling the house in Dorset. I seldom go down there and have never much enjoyed country life. Never could see myself as a country squire. Despise rusticating. I thought to use the capital to buy a larger house in town, where we could live year-round."

"We are of like minds on that subject, as you know," she said. "I never understood the attraction of the country. I despise a country house party. While you men go out shooting and fishing and racing about, there is never anything for ladies to do but read and stitch and sketch, all of which I can do just as well here in town, while at the same time having good shops and theatres and galleries at my fingertips."

"I remember," he said, "how you hated when David felt obliged to visit the estate in Kent."

Marianne groaned. "I was never more bored in my life than during those long months in the country. You cannot imagine how pleased I am that the place was entailed to his brother George and that I seldom, if ever, have to set foot in it again. If he had left it to me, I do not know what I'd have done with it. Sell it, I suppose, as you are doing. Is Clarissa amenable to living in town all year?"

"I haven't spoken to her about it yet. But she does seem to prefer it here in town. She positively glows whenever I escort her someplace new."

Because she was so young and still agog with
ton
life. But would she really be happy living in London all year-round? Or would she be miserable during the winter months when company was thin and everyone had retired to the country?

"I have given this a great deal of thought," he said. "I remember as a boy being so restless in the country. When I finally got to Oxford, I was completely entranced by town life, and wondered why I had been forced to waste so many years with nothing but a small village at my disposal. People always talk about the benefits of raising children in the country, but look how much London has to offer a child. Museums and menageries and parks. Medieval towers and royal palaces. Troops of soldiers on review and docks bursting with ships of every kind. I would have loved all that as a boy."

"Yes," she said, "I see what you mean." His normally hooded eyes had grown round with a sort of wonder. Adam was still a boy at heart who loved all those things. But would the girl he was marrying agree with him?

"I am hoping Clarissa will approve," he said, as though reading her thoughts. "She will no doubt enjoy furnishing and decorating a new, larger house. She has excellent taste, in fashion, at least."

"That is certainly a very pretty dress she is wearing tonight."

"It is indeed. Clarissa is one of those girls, though, who would look pretty in a feed sack."

"She is indeed lovely, Adam. She will make a beautiful bride."

"Yes, she is lovely, but you, my dear, outshine every other woman tonight. You look stunning in that dress. The color suits you."

Marianne looked down at the mulberry crepe, its faint sheen picked up by the moonlight. "Do you think so? You do not think it too bold?"

"For such a brazen flirt? No, it is perfect."

Marianne laughed. "I confess I am feeling a bit brazen tonight."

"So I noticed. How many other gentlemen have fallen victim to that fan?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Only a few."

He gave a snort and looked away. "I never before knew you to employ a fan. Is this something new?"

"Wilhelmina gave us a refresher course in the language of the fan, and I have come to find it quite useful."

"Us?"

Oh, dear. She could not tell him about the Merry Widows. It was a secret pact, and she had almost let it slip. "The trustees. We got a bit silly at one of our meetings, that's all. I had quite forgotten all those signals one could send with a fan."

"It seems to have come back to you easily enough."

Marianne hunched a shoulder. "It has certainly made things easier for me. I am still feeling awkward and uncertain when it comes to attracting a man with words. I've never known how to flirt properly, so all I've done is talk with them. It seems to be working."

"My dear, you underestimate your powers. You don't need to make a special effort to attract a man."

He reached out and ran the back of a finger gently along her cheek. She caught her breath. He noticed, of course, and his lazy green eyes twinkled.

"All you need to do," he continued, "is smile and look up at him with those big brown eyes and he will be lost to you." He gave a rueful little laugh. "I guarantee it."

"Thank you, Adam." Her skin still tingled where he'd touched her. "I appreciate your advice, even though I know you do not approve of what I'm doing."

"I do not disapprove, my dear. If I said anything to the contrary the other night, you must blame it on the drink. You are entitled to your pleasure. But you must permit me to be provoked that I cannot be the one to share it with you." He flashed a wicked grin.

He was teasing, of course — he was always teasing — but she wished he would not. It only encouraged impossible fantasies.

"So, have you made your way through the list yet?"

"Almost," she said. "I have not yet seen Lord Aldershot this evening, but Sir Arthur and Mr. Gilchrist have been most attentive. Not to mention Lord Hopwood."

"Hopwood? I don't recall discussing him."

"We didn't. It was an impulse."

"Hmph. He is too old for you."

"Nonsense. Oh, and there was Mr. Fitzwilliam as well."

"Fitzwilliam? Egad, another impulse?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Just because I didn't think to put a man's name on my list does not mean I cannot consider him if I so choose."

"Fitzwilliam is too dreamy. The man always has his head in the clouds."

Marianne laughed. "Adam, you are hopeless. You think no one is suitable."

He leaned down and placed his lips so close to her ear she could feel his breath. "No one is good enough for you, my dear."

His breath and his words sent a shiver down her arms. Lord, how on earth did people survive in such a charged atmosphere? How had she lived almost thirty years without recognizing it all around her? This new self-conscious sexual sensitivity she'd felt all evening with every man who danced with her was even stronger around Adam. Had it been there all along, the whole time she'd known him, but she'd been too self-absorbed to notice?

* * *

"Got caught in parson's mousetrap, eh, Cazenove?"

Lord Ombersley guffawed loudly and slapped Adam on the back. If Adam heard that old chestnut one more time he'd be driven to violence. But it seemed every man at White's had to comment upon his betrothal.

"Pretty little thing, though," Ombersley said. "Should make a sweet armful, eh, what? No hardship in that duty, I'll wager."

His bawdy laughter was picked up by other gentlemen in the cardroom, and Adam was forced to endure more commiseration and backslapping as he made his way through. Clarissa's youth and beauty were much remarked upon, as though those were the only qualities that mattered in a wife. Of course, they had been his primary reasons for choosing her, so he should not be offended by that attitude. He was no different from the rest. He did have hopes, though, that there would eventually be a deeper connection between them. She was very young and their betrothal was still new, but Adam hoped the skittishness he often noted whenever he tried to kiss her or touch her would melt over time.

He finally extricated himself from the general bonhomie and made his way across the room. Before he reached the door and his escape, the words "Mrs. Nesbitt" rang in the air, followed by laughter. Adam turned to find Lord Aldershot among a group of men standing near the window. A genial, good-looking man, he was one of the few candidates whose name remained on Marianne's list. If the fellow was making sport of Marianne's name in public, by God, Adam would be sure he was struck from that list.

Adam accepted a glass of wine from a waiter and wandered casually toward the group.

"Ah, Cazenove," Sir Neville Kenyon said. "I understand we are to wish you happy. Miss Leighton-Blair, is it?"

"Yes, she has done me the honor of accepting my offer of marriage."

"Very pretty girl. Good family. Well done, old man."

After more talk of his betrothal, conversation moved on to an upcoming race at Newmarket. Adam managed to ease Lord Aldershot slightly away from the central group.

"Did I hear you mention Mrs. Nesbitt earlier?" he said, keeping his tone indifferent, as though the matter were of no real consequence. "An attractive woman, is she not?"