“I did, as I said I would.”
Alexander cast a glance around his own ballroom. It wouldn’t be a crush. Most families of Quality had returned to the country. He remained because his mother had gotten it into her head to host a house party at Fincham and Alex could think of nothing worse than having single women thrown at him with gleeful abandon by his mother and her cohorts. Despite the countess’s pleas, demands, and guilt trips, he’d merrily waved her off to spend her party explaining his absence from his own home.
In truth, he didn’t mind spending some time in Town this Christmastide though it wasn’t his favourite place to live. He liked his other homes. Preferred Fincham Hall to the rest. Even though the neighbours were intensely annoying. Well, one neighbour, he conceded.
Granted, the last time he’d seen Olivia Darington he hadn’t exactly acted the gentleman. But in his defence, the bloody chit had started it! Bad enough she’d attacked him with snowballs. But snowballs with rocks in where more vicious than necessary to his way of thinking. Gluing her teacup had been childish though. He knew that.
London with Elliot would be nice and relaxing. Or should have been if not for this blasted ball.
The last thing he wanted was a party. He was only throwing the damned thing because he’d needed an excuse to stay in Town to stop his mother whittering on at him. And when he’d mentioned it to his sociable friend, Elliot had been unsurprisingly enthusiastic.
As the second son of a notable marquis, Elliot St. Clare rarely if ever turned down a party of any kind.
He was rich and handsome, with entrée into the best of Society because of his family name, and no expectations on his shoulders. He had nothing to dobutattend parties.
Alex didn’t usually mind them too much, either. And mercifully, his mother’s ilk had departed Town already. Those who remained where by and large less staid and therefore, more fun.
Plus, Jane Darington had grown to rely on him for any sort of social life. And much as he despised the hellion she was related to, he found that he’d warmed to the more genteel, less fiery Jane.
Judging by Elliot’s leer, he had too. But while Alex’s affection was that of a sibling, Elliot’s was very much not.
And while Jane Darington was none of his business, Alexander felt compelled towards protecting the chit.
“Just behave yourself, St. Clare. The girl has had a tough time of it. She might be – vulnerable.”
What he meant of course was that she would be easily seduced by the compliments of a man who could drag her from the genteel poverty she so obviously struggled with.
“Vulnerable? Why, that’s my favourite kind of lady.”
Alexander opened his mouth to threaten bodily harm but a small furore at the entrance to the ballroom caught his attention.
Sure enough, there was a new round of people approaching.
Alex watched Elliot through narrow eyes and was about to issue another warning.
Half a second later, the small crowed at the door parted and
suddenly, the most breath-taking woman he’d ever seen stepped into his view.
Alexander’s heart just about stopped beating in his chest.
That couldn’t be Olivia Darington, could it? He quickly scanned the other people who’d entered. That was Jane taller, and coolly beautiful. And the similarity between the ladies was unmistakeable…
He looked again.
The vision that walked through the door had stunning sable hair swept away from the most breathtakingly beautiful face he’d ever seen.
He remembered Olivia Darington from three years ago. She’d been a pretty thing, even if he had felt at the time that the devil himself had spawned her. It was doubtful that time had changed her personality, but good God, time had been very kind to her looks.
Alex’s mouth went dry and his heart, strangely, began to pound.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been so affected by the mere sight of a lady. Especially one he despised.
He suddenly thought back to three years ago, when he’d been quite madly tempted to kiss her. He’d dragged her out to the garden of her father’s modest estate to get to the bottom of her recent machination. When he’d gone to the village that morning, he had been besieged by Miss Sophie Fogers, the brashest, loudest, giddiest, and stupidest woman in the county. Alexander, along with every other man in the vicinity, had been avoiding the girl since she’d been in long skirts. He quite literally hadn’t been able to walk from one place to the next without her squealing and throwing herself at him. She’d pretended to faint, so he’d catch her outside the apothecary’s, trip outside the bakery and tumble headfirst into parts of him he wanted to remain very much untouched by any part of Sophie Fogers and been forward enough to almost bring him to blush. He’d always garnered plenty of female attention being titled, wealthy, and, he thought, rather smugly, not too bad to look at. But this! This had been something else.
It had only been when he’d finally managed to get inside the local inn that he’d gotten to the bottom of it. That bloody doe-eyed nuisance Olivia Darington had taken out an advertisement in the local newspaper, claiming that Alexander was madly in love with Sophie Fogers but far too shy to go about courting her and was hoping that she would bold enough to make the first approach.
Alexander had known straight away that it was Olivia. It had her written all over it. She was smarter and viler than her sister. And took their enmity far more seriously. Where Jane had always been happy to carry out simple tricks that were mostly harmless and had an immediate impact, Olivia’s schemes were always well-planned manipulations and war strategies, the likes of which Nelson himself would be proud.
