Page 4 of Redemption

As her aunt greeted the earl, fear spread an icy layer over her skin. In a fog of confusion, Rhea heard her aunt introduce her as she met the earl’s gaze. Dear God, was it possible the earl was the man Ruckley had shot last year in the museum? The welcoming expression on Lord Melton’s handsome face became one of puzzled amusement as he eyed her with an arched eyebrow.

“Good evening, Miss Bennett.”

The moment he spoke she knew he wasn’t the stranger she’d left to die in the museum. Aware she’d been staring, Rhea’s cheeks grew hot.

“Good evening, Lord Melton. Please accept my best wishes for a happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a congenial grin.

With a forced smile, she turned away from the earl and quickly followed her aunt deeper into the ballroom.

“What’s wrong, dearest?” Beatrice asked softly. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing. Simply a bad memory.” Her response caused a pained look to cross her aunt’s face. Rhea quickly caught Beatrice’s hand in hers and shook her head with a gesture of reassurance. “The past can’t find me here—not this far away from London.”

“Would you prefer that we go home? We can plead a sudden headache.” Beatrice frowned as if contemplating what reason they could use to excuse themselves.

“Absolutely not,” Rhea exclaimed softly then smiled in a teasing fashion. “You rarely went out while we were in London, and I’m not about to deny you the chance to renew old acquaintances, especially of the male persuasion. I’m of the opinion that you’re in need of a husband more than me.”

The blush darkening her aunt’s cheeks made Rhea laugh. Although her aunt had been a widow for several years, Beatrice was still young and quite lovely. A smile curving her lips, Rhea turned away to survey the large room. From the books lining the far wall, it appeared that the room normally served as a library. Despite its stately, opulent appearance, the room radiated a warmth that said it had seen many happy occasions. Behind her were a row of doors that opened onto a long terrace. They stood open in an attempt to ease the already warm temperature of the room. Something told her that a number of guests would take advantage of the patio’s cooler temperatures as the night wore on.

Across the room, Rhea caught sight of a man with a small amount of silver at his temples who was looking in their direction. She was certain the man was studying her aunt, and Rhea turned her head slightly.

“Do you know the man standing across from us?”

“Where?” Beatrice asked with a curious look of puzzlement.

“It appears he’s headed our way,” Rhea murmured as she saw the man making his way through the throng and moving in their direction.

“Oh dear God,” her aunt gasped softly. At the panic in Beatrice’s voice, Rhea jerked her gaze in her aunt’s direction. There was a look of apprehension on her pale features, and Rhea touched the older woman on the arm.

“Are you all right, Aunt Beatrice?”

“I…yes. I’m…I’m quite all right.”

The agitated response made Rhea frown. Before she could probe for a more definitive explanation, the gentleman in question was standing in front of them. He offered a smile to Rhea before bowing in her aunt’s direction.

“Good evening, ladies. Beatrice, you’re as lovely as I remember.”

When her aunt didn’t extend her arm, the gentleman reached out to capture Beatrice’s hand and carried it to his lips. His mouth lingered on Beatrice’s fingers for a fraction longer than was respectable, and her aunt breathed in a sharp breath as she tugged free of his grasp.

“Lionel…I hadn’t heard you’d returned from the continent.” Her aunt’s breathy response made Rhea glance at the woman. The pink in her aunt’s cheeks had returned and Rhea bit back a smile.

“And this must be your daughter. The likeness is uncanny.” A hard glint flashed in the man’s dark eyes as he smiled at Rhea then pinned his gaze on Beatrice again. Startled by the gentleman’s observation, she turned toward her aunt. All the color was gone from Beatrice’s face as she looked at Rhea then back at the handsome man in front of her. With a slight shake of her head, Beatrice exhaled a soft sigh.

“Actually, this is my niece, Rhea Bennett. Alfred and I didn’t have any children.” Regret echoed in her aunt’s voice, but another emotion ran beneath the obvious disappointment. Rhea found it impossible to define what it was. The gentleman’s gaze narrowed as he studied Beatrice closely, and pink color flared in her cheeks.

“Rhea, may I present, Lionel Nesfield.”

“A pleasure, Miss Bennett. And it’s Viscount Foxworth now,” he murmured as he kissed Rhea’s hand before his attention returned to Beatrice whose face displayed no other emotion than compassion.

“I am sorry Lionel. I hadn’t heard that your father was gone.”

“Just a few months ago. I had a great deal of estate business to attend to before I could renew old acquaintances.” Something in the way the man looked at her aunt said Lord Foxworth was specifically referring to Beatrice. Her aunt paled beneath his steady gaze, and Rhea decided to help ease the tension between the older couple.

“Do you live nearby, Lord Foxworth?”

“Yes,” said with a smile as he looked at her. “It’s less than a half-hour ride from Green Hill House as the crow flies. Do you ride, Miss Bennett?”