* * *
"He’s a disgrace! Honestly, can you believe the nerve! Making a scene and ruining a perfectly lovely ball!” Lady Amelia Lansdowne fluttered her filigreed fan with unusual vigor, an unbecoming flush on her pale cheeks.
“I wouldn’t call this a scene, Amelia. He merely arrived a little late. I’m sure he had a good reason.” Lady Natalia Sinclair sighed with impatience over her companion’s melodrama, but her own fan fluttered a bit faster as she watched Captain Blake chat with Lord Basingstoke.
Captain Dylan Blake, recipient of the Victoria’s Cross.
Natalia knew all about him. She’d read dozens of newspaper articles touting his courage, but she’d never actually met him.
“He’s dreadfully good-looking,” she mused, as she cast a subtle glance in the captain’s direction.
In his scarlet dress uniform, with his confident military bearing and chest full of medals, he stood out in the crowd of somber, black-garbed lords. His thick black hair, caught at his nape with a piece of scarlet ribbon, contrasted sharply with his light blue eyes. His high, chiseled cheekbones, square jaw, and clear, sun-kissed skin stole her breath.
Amelia gave a delicate shudder. “How can you say such a thing? He hasn’t a title nor farthing to his name. He’s been in the military for years, serving with the very dregs of society, and probably doesn’t know the first thing about how to act around civilized people.”
“Surely, the fact that he fought to preserve our way of life gives him the right to a few eccentricities. He’s a hero, Amelia.” Natalia didn’t bother to point out that a man’s wealth had nothing to do with how attractive he was. It wouldn’t do any good. In Amelia’s eyes, money and powerdiddetermine a man’s worth.
Unfortunately, Natalia’s father shared Amelia’s opinions, and he would choose her future husband.
Amelia turned up her nose with a condescending sniff. “Well, hero or not, you wouldn’t catchmemarrying such a man.”
“No.” Natalia fought to maintain a civil tone. “I don’t suppose so.”Not that a hero like Captain Blake would want to marry a little cat like you anyway.
To her relief, Amelia soon drifted away, obviously in search of someone more inclined to share her narrow-minded opinions. Natalia found herself alone for a few moments, free to daydream about Captain Blake.
She wanted to meet him, even though her father would never permit a man like Captain Blake to court her. It seemed so unfair. What good were wealth and a title, when so many of those who had them lacked even a hint of character?
Captain Blake had risked his life to save his men. He’d dashed back into the fray three times before he’d been wounded. The mere thought of his courageous actions sent a shiver down her spine.
Unfortunately, Captain Blake and Lord Basingstoke left the ballroom before she could work up the audacity to arrange an introduction. Disappointed, Natalia forced a smile as the next young man on her dance card claimed her for a mazurka.
Lord Roger Densby was the son of a duke. While undoubtedly her social equal, he was at least two stones overweight and stank of sweat and brandy.
He managed to step on her toes twice before he even got her out on the dance floor and didn’t have a heroic bone in his entire well-fed body.
Densby, or someone like him, was her fate. Still, her entire soul rebelled at the thought of spending her life with a man who wasn’t interested in anything but the next hunt or glittering party.
What she really wanted was someone like Captain Blake—a man with poetry in his face and courage in his heart.
Chapter Two
At least a dozen of London’s most eligible bachelors occupied the Earl of Warren’s posh, walnut-paneled billiard room. Some lounged on deep leather chairs, immersed in card games, while others stood around the billiard table, wagering on everything from who would sink the next shot to who would win the next Derby. Here they were free to drink, smoke, and gamble away from the censorious eyes of prospective mothers-in-law.
Dylan had spent a fair amount of time with this crowd, out of sheer boredom and disillusionment, but, save Basingstoke, he didn’t like or respect any of them. They reminded him of a flock of squawking crows, circling restlessly as they waited to come into the wealth and position they hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve.
Unfortunately, his own days were just as meaningless.
He’d sold his commission in hopes his father would allow him to take over the management of one of the many estates entailed to the Blake family. He’d wanted the peace of England’s lush green hills. Homesickness had consumed him during those last endless months in the Army.
But he should have known his father would never allow him to have what he wanted. The earl met his request with incredulous laughter, and nothing came of his subsequent attempts to find such work on his own. No one believed the son of an earl, even a second son with no money or prospects, actually wanted to get his hands dirty.
Was his need for peace and tranquility so hard to understand? All he wanted was a quiet place to lick a decade’s worth of wounds.
“Well, well,” Lord Jonathan Taylor drawled, as Dylan and Basingstoke took seats at a table in a secluded corner of the room. “Look who finally managed to put in an appearance.”
Jonathan had been picking fights with Dylan since they were in short pants, and he was already well in his cups, his pale eyes glittering with animosity.
The little bugger is in fine form tonight. Dylan suppressed a weary sigh and accepted another drink from a nearby waiter. The thrill of thwarting his father had worn off. He’d need plenty of liquid fortification in order to get through the rest of the evening.
