Page 14 of An Enchanting Dare

The two of them froze, watching avidly as Barnaby offered Lady Millicent his arm and escorted her through the room. He glanced over his shoulder as he went and rounded his eyes at them, grinning broadly.

“He did it!” Sylvester said, clapping him on the back. “Well, done, old man!”

“It is only a first step, of course,” the comte replied gravely, though he did not fool Sylvester. The man could not keep the glee from his expression. He looked as if he’d won the damned derby he was so pleased with himself. “I think a little drink is in order to celebrate, though. My nerves are shattered. What say you?”

Sylvester stilled as he saw Lady Aisling enter the room with her little sister, Lady Cara on her arm, and escorted by their brother, Viscount Harleston.

“Actually, monsieur, I don’t suppose you’d give me the benefit of your opinion and your company for a moment. Lady Aisling is there, and I should like to speak with her. Perhaps you can deduce what her true feelings are, for I am all at sea.”

The comte looked from him to the lady, his lips quirking. “Perhaps. Do you know her brother, though? We have not been introduced.”

“A little, yes, though not well, but I can offer an introduction. Only….” Sylvester hesitated, belatedly wondering if this was the best idea.

“Only…?” The comte regarded him, that warning look in his eyes again.

With hindsight, Sylvester decided he would learn his lesson and didn’t ask the man not to let Aisling fall in love with him.

The comte sighed, and apparently Sylvester was all too transparent despite holding his tongue. “I will restrain myself as best I can,” the man drawled, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Sylvester cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. This way, then.”

The comte followed him over to where the ladies and their brother were admiring a painting by Turner of the Ducal Palace in Venice.

“My lord, ladies. It is good to see you. I hope you are enjoying the exhibition?” Sylvester asked, greeting them warmly and getting the usual frosty response from Aisling the moment she set eyes on him.

Viscount Harleston treated him to a critical once over. He was much like his sister, with the same black hair, though his eyes were blue. He gave a marginally more welcoming reception than Aisling, however, and Sylvester wondered how her warm brown eyes could contain so much ice. The younger daughter had apparently taken after their father, as her colouring was wildly different to her siblings. She had a riot of copper curls, and her pale skin was deeply freckled. Unlike her older sister her gaze upon him was frank and interested.

“Mr Cootes, how do you do?” Harleston said with a smile that was polite rather than overly friendly.

“Very well,” he said, before turning to the Frenchman, who as Comte de Villen outranked the viscount. “Monsieur, might I introduce to you to Viscount Harleston? I believe you know Lady Aisling, and this is her younger sister, Lady Cara.”

“Harleston,” Villen said, giving a polite nod, before bowing to his sisters. “Ladies, a pleasure.”

By now Lady Cara was gaping at the comte like he was a different species of man entirely, for which Sylvester could not entirely blame her. To his relief, Aisling seemed unaffected by his glorious presence and had rearranged her face, so she looked like the timid and unassuming creature she purported to be. Not that he believed it was entirely an act. She truly did hate being in society, and people made her nervous. She was on edge. Something or someone had knocked the confidence from her, but this shy, faded young woman was not who she truly was. Not when she could ring a peal over his head with such enthusiasm when he vexed her. He glanced back at Lady Cara and wondered if she was aware he was the man escorting her friend to Trevick, and if she had informed Lady Aisling.

“Will you be in town much longer, my lady?” he asked Aisling, knowing full well when she was departing town. She stood with her eyes downcast, but she looked up then, a glint of satisfaction visible as she answered.

“We leave tomorrow, Mr Cootes,” she replied serenely.

Sylvester bit back a smile, doing his best to look crestfallen. “I am bereft, my lady. I had hoped you might remain for a day or two longer as I am only just returned to town.”

“Oh, have you been away? I had not realised,” she said, with such a guileless expression it was all he could do not to bark with laughter. The wretch. She knew damned well he’d been gone.

“Your brother is Lord de Ligne?” Harleston asked. “Who married Greer Cadogan recently.”

“The very same,” Sylvester replied. “I’ve just returned from Marcross, as it happens. They are both well. Blissful, I should say,” he added with a grin.

Harleston laughed. “I wish the fellow luck. We know the lady well, don’t we, Aisling? Greer is a handful. Never met such a creature with an aptitude for chaos,” he said, his tone warm enough to ensure there was no hint of censure.

“I believe she keeps my brother on his toes,” Sylvester replied, before glancing at Aisling again. “My brother is a lucky man, to have married such a woman.”

Aisling stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Harleston, we had better find Mama and Papa, or they will wonder where we have got to. There is a great deal to do before we leave for home tomorrow,” she said, taking her brother’s arm. “Monsieur, Mr Cootes, good day to you,” she said, giving her brother no choice but to guide his sisters away.

He turned to the comte, who was watching them go and looking thoughtful. “She hates you,” Villen said, smirking.

Sylvester sighed. “That’s it? That’s the best you can give me?”

“Non, I am teasing you. I think it is not as simple as that,” the comte said thoughtfully. “She did not even look at me. Not once.”