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Perhaps he would share his own wicked stories with her? Tales of gentlemen broken as he bested them in the gaming halls, or better yet, tales of pugilists and the bets he’d laid upon the winning man.
They might ride out together when the weather was fine. Holly pictured herself seated upon a creamy white mare, while he rode a black stallion, one reaching at least seventeen hands. She would challenge him to a race which he would allow her to win because he would love her to distraction. A small satisfied smile lifted her lips. Her happy musings lasted the journey home. By the time they pulled up at their London house, her parents were chatting amicably, their discussion about the weather, her father convinced it would snow, her mother insisting it would not. Holly was not deceived; her father would not let this matter drop, for although he was a gentle man, he was also one who worried a subject to death.
Cosily snuggledin her rose-canopied bed, Holly wondered what her parents had planned for her birthday. A December baby, hence her middle name, Holly, she hoped her parents might throw her a ball. Everyone who was aquatinted with her called her Holly rather than by her first name, Annabelle. She was already ‘out’ and after a very successful season had received no less than five proposals of marriage.
However, her father had declared none of them suitable, insisting that Holly could do better. He would be surprised to know that his daughter agreed with him. Her mother had become somewhat distrait by the season’s end with no husband selected, but Holly consoled her, asking why she thought Holly should settle for less. After all, she was in possession of a pretty face and a fine figure; she had wealth and connections with some of the best families of theton. She was still young; her fourth of December birthday would be her nineteenth. They all knew there would be a number of eligible gentlemen in attendance around the Christmas season, those gentlemen who would not normally be seen dead amongst the debutant ‘cattle markets’.
Take the Earl of Caulderbury, for instance. With an excited wriggle, Holly recalled his handsome features. She knew that if she landed the earl, all her parents’ hopes and dreams would have come to fruition. On that happy note, she turned her head to the pillow and slept.
CHAPTER2
The birthday ball she’d hoped for came to pass and was well underway. Holly had yet to make her appearance, waiting upstairs for a summons. Meanwhile, Matilda, her maid, used the extra time afforded her to put some finishing touches to her mistress’s hair.
“Have you finished?” Holly asked, twisting on the dressing stool impatiently. She was aquiver with excitement. Her mother had extracted a promise from her to remain upstairs until she was sent for. Henrietta wanted her daughter to make a grand entrance, with the best impression she could.
“All finished, miss. Perhaps a twirl in front of the looking glass to see what you think?”
Holly needed no further urging. She spun around in front of the long French mirror that her parents had given her for her eighteenth birthday.
She liked what she saw. Her blue eyes glittered brightly, full of laughter as she perused herself dressed in an organza gown of silver and blue. Her cheeks were fashionably rosy, without the aid of rouge, as were her bow-shaped lips, now parted to show a row of white teeth, set in a heart-shaped face. Her sweet hourglass figure had many a gentleman’s blood pounding. In short, Miss Annabelle Holly Lushington was a luscious catch, and in his opinion, appeared to be more than fully aware of her own charms.
Aratter-tatsent Matilda scurrying to the chamber door. It seemed her moment had come. Holly took a deep breath to calm the fluttering of her heart.
“Good luck, miss!”
“I do appreciate you, Matilda,” she said, kissing her maid’s cheek. The girl had been with her for the past five years, and Holly hoped she would agree to come with her after she married and moved on into her husband’s home.
Sweeping down the staircase into the crowded inner hall, Holly mentally thanked her mother for making sure the most eligible bachelors of thetonwere contained there and thus kept from wandering into the main ballroom before Holly could catch their eye. She stopped near the bottom of the stairs. Her father clapped to draw everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began.
Holly gazed about her, satisfied to see there were very few young ladies within the gathered crowd.
“We are assembled here tonight to help my beautiful daughter, Holly, celebrate her nineteenth birthday. Darling…” He held out his arm, and she stepped down the final steps, placing her palm in her father’s outstretched hand. He leant forward and kissed her forehead.
“Come, let us escort your suitors into the party.” Tucking her arm in his, he led her through into the glittering ballroom.
As soon as they were inside, Holly found herself besieged by gentlemen wishing to mark her dance card. Just as Lord Manning took her hand for her first reel, the Earl of Caulderbury materialised at her side.
“A moment, if you please, Manning. I believe Lady Annabelle promised me the first dance of the evening.”
Holly gasped at this blatant lie. She revised her opinion of Lord Mounthurst, for she actively disliked arrogance.
“I am afraid you are mistaken,” she said firmly. “I did no such thing.” Attempting to pull Lord Manning forward, she added pressure on the crook of his arm where her hand rested. “Come, sir,” she urged, but he remained rooted to the spot.
“If that is so, Caulderbury, then I am happy to forego the pleasure. The lady is all yours.” Bowing graciously to Holly, he said, “Please mark your card and pencil me in for a later dance, my dear.” He moved away, leaving Holly seething at the earl’s highhandedness.
She gritted her teeth. The earl stepped in, cool as you please, to usurp the Viscount’s position at her side.
“Shall we…” He slid his arm about her waist, giving a firm tug so she found herself held flush against his masculine frame. Heat stained her cheeks.
Reluctantly, she placed a gloved hand upon his arm, and he swept her onto the dance floor with a proficient grace she knew her previous partner would have lacked. They spoke little as the dance progressed. As soon as it was over, he guided her back to where her father stood conversing with a group of guests.
“I should like a word, Lushington, in private if you could spare me a few moments,” Caulderbury interrupted haughtily.
Holly glared at the man. How rude to make demands to speak with her father at her birthday ball? Before she could formulate a suitable set down, her next dance partner arrived and drew her away for their dance. She had to be satisfied with throwing the earl a dark scowl. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her before turning to follow her father from the ballroom.
The evening progressed in a twirl of giddy pleasure. Refreshing homemade lemonade, and finally a sumptuous birthday supper followed the dance. At the end of the feasting there came a tinkling sound which drew her attention. Her father was tapping a glass with his spoon. An expectant hush fell about the table.
