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CHAPTER1
England - London 1860
“Could there be a better way to spend an evening?” Lady Annabelle Holly Lushington gushed, tapping her foot in time to the Straus waltz currently being played so beautifully by the quartet hired for the occasion. She did so love a ball! The colourful gowns, the music, and gentlemen dressed in their finery. The romance, the excitement, all combined to make for a most romantic evening. Once she had a husband, she would be able attend every single one, should she so choose.
“I agree, but I think a Christmas ball surpasses all others, don’t you think?” her friend, Lady Alice Parmenter, replied enthusiastically.
“Yes, I do so adore the Yuletide season.”
“Holly, isn’t that Lord Mounthurst, the Earl of Caulderbury over there? Oh, my goodness, he’s turning in our direction, do not look!” Alice gasped.
“My word, you are right,it isMounthurst, but he rarely attends a ball,” Holly exclaimed.
“You looked!”
“His gaze had moved on. He did not see me. I haven’t seen him since the summer and even then, only distantly as he rode in Hyde Park.”
“His wife died a couple of years ago. I overheard my parents discussing the fact that he is only recently out of mourning and might be searching for a new bride,” Alice confided.
“He is more handsome than his reputation credits. Although appearing rather intimidating with all that dark hair and hooded eyes. Goodness, the man resembles a pirate!”
“No, I’d say more of a highway robber,” Holly contradicted. “Not that either of us has met with such reprobates and come to such conclusions.” Studying the tall, dark earl, despite having warned her friend not to stare she realised he seemed familiar. Had he attended any of the season’s house parties or soirees? Frowning, she pondered; perhaps she had seen him at one or other of the summer’s outdoor events?
“I’ll wager you cannot make him notice us,” Alice goaded, mischievously.
“Ladies should not accept wagers; however, I can and will accept achallenge,” Holly replied, never one to back away from a dare. She took her friend’s arm, leaning in to whisper.
Alice’s cheeks grew pink as she listened.
“No… I withdraw my wager or challenge, whatever you want to call it. We cannot, that is far too brazen, even for you!” Alice exclaimed.
“Don’t be such a goose. There is no convention that will be broken. You are already betrothed to Barnaby so you have nothing to lose, Alice.”
“Only my fiancé, should he disapprove,” Alice retorted.
Holly cajoled and argued, until, browbeaten, Alice gave in with a sigh of resignation. Being timorous, Alice never withstood her friend’s persuasion for long.
Holly proceeded to drag her from among the party of debutants, out onto the dance floor where she partnered Alice, taking the position as the male lead.
There were gasps of dismay from a huddled group of dowager ladies seated opposite them. Many raised their eye monocles in order to scrutinise the theatricals happening right in front of them.
The girls danced together for no more than a few movements before two gentlemen intercepted them. Disappointingly, neither man was the darkly dashing Earl of Caulderbury.
“You are a disgrace!”her father spluttered, outraged as they bowled along in their carriage on the return home.
“Oscar, dear, that is quite enough, no harm has been done. Even Lady Wickham agreed that no rules had actually been broken. Nowhere does it state that an unmarried girl may not dance the waltz with another unmarried girl,” her stepmother attempted to sooth him.
“Quiet, Henrietta. The issue is far more serious than that. No gentleman wants a wife who deliberately makes a spectacle of herself. This time your daughter has gone too far, madam!”
“Why is it that she becomes my daughter only if she misbehaves andyourswhen she excels?” Lady Henrietta Lushington complained. As well she might, for although she had raised Holly from a babe, she was, in fact, Holly’s stepmother.
Holly leant back in her seat; a small smile of amusement played about her lips. Her mama, although only a stepmother, always defended her against her father. Holly’s birth mother had died in the struggle to give her daughter life. The only mother Holly had ever known was the sweet and caring Henrietta. The arrival of half-brothers and sisters did not detract from either parent’s devotion, and Holly had always enjoyed the company of her younger siblings. Theirs was a happy and playful existence, and Holly loved her family, growing up cheerful, if a little frivolous. Her stepmother had not neglected her duty to her stepdaughter and had trained Holly thoroughly in the running of a large establishment, preparing her for her destiny which was to marry well and take her place beside a titled husband as the mistress of his imposing home.
Holly watched fondly while her parents bickered, knowing that once they engaged in a disagreement, the argument would continue all the way home, which left her alone to ponder. She settled back, replaying the events of the evening through her mind.
The handsome earl had glanced in their direction. His gaze met hers as she was led from the dance floor by Lady Wickham’s rather plump son, Viscount Marchment. The earl’s haughty, unwavering stare had held her gaze. Interestingly, Holly had detected no hint of condemnation in his glance. She’d winked at him and watched a slow flush rise up from his snowy white cravat to stain his neck. Ah, he was not impervious to her. With that brief show of vulnerability, his embarrassment had endeared him to Holly.
Sitting in the rocking carriage she stared out at the darkness, fantasising on how her life might be as the earl’s wife—Would he would blush at her racy tales of balls she’d attend, or perhaps at her gathering salacious gossip whilst playing whist?
