My Lady Rival (12 page)

Measuring. She stood in a group mixed with both lords and ladies, but she didn’t speak much. Her bearing spoke of nobility and breeding, she didn’t giggle, and after bantering back and forth with Willa earlier in the evening, her quiet grace would be calm and refreshing—good God, Lady Marianna might actually be the perfect woman.

A lex strolled toward her and stopped at her side. “Good evening, Lady Marianna.”

“Good evening, Mr. Laurie.”

“My apologies,” he said after a moment. “Is it often that men are struck nearly speechless by your beauty, or am I the only one to be afflicted in this manner?” She hesitated. “You don’t sound nearly speechless.”

“How could I miss an opportunity to speak with you again?” he asked softly.

She pursed her lips, as if trying not to return his smile, but it didn’t work. A t last she turned her head toward him and offered her hand. “Congratulations, Mr.

Laurie. You’ve now gained my attention.”

He lifted her hand toward his lips. “A re congratulations necessary, Lady Marianna? Do you not give your attention to everyone who addresses you?”

“No, I don’t.” She let her hand rest in his. Through her gloves, he could feel that her fingers were cold.

Willa’s hand was always warm.

Damnation. Would the woman never cease to bother him, even in his mind?

A nd then, as if standing before Lady Marianna while thinking of Willa was the perfect, magic combination he needed, his thoughts fixed on the idea. He’d planned to draw out the information of Woolstone’s location from her, but of course he had no reason to believe she would comply. A nd especially with her aloof manner now, it seemed impossible that she would give up such a secret to a aloof manner now, it seemed impossible that she would give up such a secret to a stranger. But if Lady Marianna was the woman he would pursue, if she were the one he would marry . . .

Not only would she be more likely to help him find Woolstone if he courted her, but she was also the daughter of a marquess, the sister of an earl. Her connections were impeccable, perfect to assist him in growing the company. A nd with her beauty and poise, she would also be the perfect wife upon his arm and as the hostess of future events such as this. She could even help to instruct his sisters on how to behave! He couldn’t ask her about Woolstone at the moment, of course, because then she would think that he only meant to use her when he also meant to marry her, but the realization of the perfect circumstances—perfect, yes, she was, in every single way—made A lex want to crow with triumph.

Instead he laughed with triumph and shot a glance toward the window—

Willa was gone.

Twisting, A lex found her after a moment in the middle of the room . . .

speaking and flirting with Woolstone’s brother, the Earl of Uxbridge.

A lex’s laughter died as he watched them interact. No.

“Mr. Laurie? Oh, have you met my brother the earl yet?” A lex shook his head.

Willa touched Uxbridge, placing her hand on his arm, then laughed and retrieved it, clutching it to her chest as she tilted her head back.

A lex switched his gaze to the earl.

The man was smiling outwardly, but the smile didn’t extend to his eyes. He watched Willa as if she was a little canary and he’d suddenly developed an insatiable hunger for birds.

A lex looked at Willa. “Bloody hell,” he swore beneath his breath.

“Mr. Laurie?” Lady Marianna tugged her fingers from his grasp.

Uxbridge wanted her, and she knew it. It was all there, in the way she stroked her fingers along her bodice, in the way she peered at him beneath her eyelashes, her gaze knowing and her lips curved in a seductive smile.

She had never smiled seductively at A lex.

“Mr. Laurie?” Lady Marianna said again, this time her voice bordered with impatience.

A lex’s gaze remained glued to the other pair. His perfect plan no longer seemed so clever. Willa Stratton meant to use Woolstone’s family to find the dye’s creator, too.

“H urry, Ellen.” Willa ran across her bedchamber at Mivart’s Hotel and sat at the dressing table. “Something simple will do. We don’t have time for anything else.”

Blast.

Blast. Blast. Blast.

She’d told Ellen to wake her up at her usual time, and she had. But then—

apparently, for she couldn’t remember—Willa had told the maid it was fine if she slept for two more hours and to leave her alone until then. Her maid, obedient as always, had abided by her orders.

A nd now here they were with only an hour to spare before the time for callers.

If they came; they might not.

Willa sighed as she peered at her reflection in the mirror. They always did. Since the Earl of Uxbridge had begun showing her favor a week ago, the other gentlemen of the ton had decided she was not indeed another brash A merican heiress, but a woman of the greatest sophistication and grace.

Ellen scraped the brush through her hair, the bristles tangling in the waves that had become little knots during Willa’s sleep. She winced.

“Sorry, miss,” Ellen said, then hurried on.

A s her head was jerked back and forth, Willa called into the adjoining sitting room of her suite. “Is everything in place, Sarah?”

“Flowers have arrived. Waiting for the tea service now,” Sarah replied, her voice carrying, although she didn’t shout as Willa did. Refined. Calm. Her companion’s response reminded her to take a breath. It wouldn’t do to ruin her newly gained reputation as a woman of the greatest poise.

Interesting to note that all the wealth and charm in the world did not matter to the snobbish English ton as much as the opinion of one man. If she were to marry into the aristocracy for the sake of her father’s company, as A lex had once accused her, then the Earl of Uxbridge would no doubt be her first choice of suitors.

It also didn’t hurt that in addition to being quite handsome and possessing a wicked wit, he also excelled at putting a glower on A lex Laurie’s face whenever he touched her hand or bent his head near to hers.

She would have felt almost smug if not for the fact that when she’d ventured to ask Uxbridge about Woolstone—he seemed to prefer and be amused by her directness—he’d waved away her concern that he’d been taken by force and assured her that Woolstone was no doubt merely in hiding to thwart their father.

assured her that Woolstone was no doubt merely in hiding to thwart their father.

He also said that he hadn’t the slightest idea where his brother could be.

“But for you, my dearest Miss Stratton, I will endeavor to find out,” he’d said.

Unfortunately, he then went on to say that he suspected his sister knew of Woolstone’s location, for they’d always been close companions since childhood.

That had been three days ago. It was also three days ago that Willa had begun stalking A lex Laurie as best she could, certain that Lady Marianna would surrender Woolstone’s secret to her nauseatingly devoted suitor. It was also the reason why Willa had gone to bed so late the night before, having skulked around Holcombe House into the early hours of the morning, torn between the desire to sneak into A lex’s study to see what information he had about the dye and the inclination to not turn herself into a common criminal.

If she could have called upon her father’s resources to help her find the dye’s creator, she would have. But she knew their loyalty lay with him, and she couldn’t risk having letters sent back to A merica about Daniel Stratton’s daughter searching for a man named Woolstone. Not when she was supposed to be charming Mr.

Lunsford.

Ellen gathered her hair into her hands and coiled it tightly, then began with the pins. “I laid out the pink dress for today, miss.”

“Pink is fine. Let’s have the diamonds for necklace and earrings. The diamond clips when you’re done with the pins.” The rich A merican heiress had no qualms about dazzling England’s lords with the splendor of her wealth. Besides, it was easier to hide behind diamonds without revealing her secret that her father had, in order to gain her compliance in marrying Eichel, stipulated that both her dowry and her inheritance would be forfeit if she didn’t marry the groom he chose.

Without the Madonna dye, any man who wished to marry her would do so for love alone.

Willa lowered her gaze to the miniature near the bottom of the mirror. It was the Madonna portrait of Queen Victoria and Princess Louise. The color of the Queen’s gown in the painting was likely inaccurate; only the original was rumored to be painted with the same dye as the gown. But Willa didn’t stare at the miniature as a reminder of Woolstone and his dye; she stared because of the tenderness in the Queen’s eyes as she gazed down upon her infant daughter.

Oh, but Willa missed her mother. Twelve years had passed since her death, yet still she could remember the way she’d stroked her hair as a child, the mischief in her smile. Willa loved her father, but how she wished his ruthlessness might still be tempered by her mother’s gentleness and good sense.

“Your hair is complete, miss. A re you ready for the dress?” Willa blinked away the wetness from her eyes, tucked the memory of her mother away, and stood. A glance at the mirror as she turned away showed her hair drawn into a simple bun at the back, wisps pulled at her temples and ears to soften the severity of the style. It wasn’t the most elegant or flattering coiffure, but it would have to do.

She held out her arms as Ellen wrapped the corset over her chemise and around She held out her arms as Ellen wrapped the corset over her chemise and around her chest. Ellen pulled the laces tight. Willa looked at her figure in the mirror and sucked in her stomach. “Tighter.”

Spreading her feet for balance, she held her breath and braced for each tug. A minute later: “Looser, Ellen, looser.” Panting for breath, she sighed as the corset relaxed.

English food. It was a crime that such decadence resulted in added inches. She’d never eaten so well, not even in Greece or Paris. Where was the bread and cheese she remembered from her childhood? The gruel and oatmeal?

Must not indulge in biscuits when the men come. She took another breath, noting the ease with which her ribs expanded now that the laces were loosened.

Very well, perhaps just one.

A knock came from the sitting room, then the sound of voices. Willa squeaked.

“Surely they’re not here yet? It’s not even ten!”

Ellen paused to poke her head out the door and returned with the crinoline.

“Only the tea service, miss. A nd the servant’s gone now. Lady Carlyle is arranging the cups.”

“Oh, good. Still, let’s hurry, Ellen, as fast as your fingers will go.” Normally calling hours weren’t observed until much later in the day, but Willa had finally been forced to set ten o’clock in the morning as the earliest time she would receive her admirers. They had begun coming earlier and earlier, trying to speak with her privately before any of the others arrived. Of course, she did encourage their competition as well as their suspicions that a few favorites were allowed entrance before ten. Uxbridge, she believed, was a man who thrived on competition. A nd unless A lex led her to Woolstone first, she must continue with the earl and her hope that he would keep his promise to discover his brother’s location.

Precisely twenty-seven minutes later, with only three minutes until ten o’clock, Ellen buttoned the last button on the pale pink morning dress. Willa jumped up and down five times, until the petticoats beneath lay flat, then rushed into the sitting room.

A t least a dozen vases of flowers sat about the room, and two half-empty teacups and two plates had been placed to the side. Willa sat down in the chair at the head of the room—it was the chair where one could be seen best—tugged at her skirts until they lay gracefully around her hips and legs, then smiled and glanced over at Sarah.

The widow Carlyle nodded once. “Ready?”

Willa inhaled deeply, exhaled, then glanced toward the short, small hall which served as an antechamber to the sitting room. Ellen was now stationed at the entrance to act as the butler. “Let it begin.”

To her left, the clock struck ten times.

A t five past ten, Willa glanced over at Sarah. “Lovely flowers, by the way. Where did you get them?”

Sarah waved her hand. “Crutcher’s hothouse. The hotel recommended them Sarah waved her hand. “Crutcher’s hothouse. The hotel recommended them because they’re very close. We didn’t have much time for today to get out an order. I’ll make sure that tomorrow’s flowers are from Bellson’s again.” Willa regarded three vases set on a table nearest her seat. One was a bouquet of red roses, the second white, and the third a dark pink. “Nevertheless, they’re beautiful.”

Sarah inclined her head. “Thank you. Did the Braithwaite dinner go well last—” A knock came at the door.

Ellen disappeared into the antechamber, and Willa let out a peal of laughter. “It was quite remarkable, Lady Carlyle.”

A murmur of male voices came from the antechamber.

Willa spied the teacup set before her and quickly reached forward and gulped half of its contents down. “I believe I’ve never seen anything quite like Lady Braithwaite’s— Oh, good morning, my lords.”

Willa and Sarah rose to their feet and curtsied as three men she recognized from the evening before entered the room: the Earl of A llesbury, Baron Spencer, and Viscount Lytton, heir to the Earl of Polwarth. The men returned their greeting with bows. “I was just telling Lady Carlyle—she had an awful megrim last night, unfortunately—about Lady Braithwaite’s dinner party.”

Baron Spencer stepped forward. “It was a splendid time, Lady Carlyle. I’m sorry you had to miss it and am glad to see you feeling well this morning. I must confess that my favorite moment of the evening was meeting Miss Stratton.” Willa laughed. “I shall never forget when Lady A rabella realized you were the same man who wore the bull’s mask at the Winstead masquerade. Please, my lords, make yourselves comfortable. Tea?”

A fter they sat down and as Willa leaned forward to pour the tea, Lord Lytton gestured to the roses around the room and the two discarded sets of teacups and plates on the side table. “I see we aren’t the first visitors this morning, Miss Stratton.”