No matter whatever else might be going on in London or the world, the elite of Society always made it to the most pretentious ball of the Season. The first one—where all the madness of the ton’s wealth and prestige was on display in the lavish and colorful fashion of those attending. It was only equaled by the glimmering, golden glow of candlelight sparkling off the crystal chandeliers hanging from the painted vaulted ceilings and mounted on the pristine plaster walls. The flower-decorated ballroom hummed with the constant strum of violins and cellos flowing flawlessly in tune with the melodic tinkling of ivory-covered keys, frenetic chatter, and uninhibited laughter.
Expense for the extravagant opening of the Season was never spared. Many members of Society vied for the opportunity to be one of the chosen few who gave generously for the honor of being a host for the spectacular evening of debuting the new bevy of young ladies who were now on display and eligible for the marriage mart. Amidst the glamour of the evening there was also a tremendous amount of rubbing elbows for business and political purposes, kissing of ladies’ hands, and dancing for everyone as the London Season began. Smaller parties would be held at the Great Hall all through the spring, but none would compare to this one.
That’s the way the ton wanted it.
Lyon and his father stood facing the entrance to the ballroom with three other gentlemen, drinking champagne and discussing with, or rather listening to, Marksworth defend the Prince’s continuous pageantry week after week and the outrageous expenditures that were allowed at Carlton House, the Prince’s London residence. Marksworth was on the watch for his intended, Miss Helen Ballingbrand. That was remarkable. The marquis actually seemed eager for her to arrive so he could introduce her.
The room teemed with elegantly gowned ladies and splendidly dressed gentlemen. Some stood in small groups chatting and laughing while others twirled and swept across the dance floor that was a mere stone’s throw away.
Tonight was the first time Lyon had ever been early to a champagne-toasting event and the infectious merriment of the crowd wasn’t the reason. Adeline was. He’d been telling his father that he wanted love before marriage almost since the day he entered Society. Now he had that. But it had to be real love both for him and for the lady he chose.
He should have told Adeline that afternoon in her drawing room that he loved her before he asked her to marry him, but he wasn’t sure that would have made a difference. And he wasn’t sure he’d realized it himself until after he left. Love was the reason he wouldn’t agree to the kind of relationship she was asking for. That wasn’t the way to treat the lady he loved. Her feelings for him wasn’t the problem.
It was marriage she was rejecting. Not him.
Lyon had no doubts that Adeline was the lady he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Within moments of seeing her the fateful night they met, he’d known he was attracted to her, to her courage to stand up to him, her boldness in striking him. His attraction to her was fast and hot from the beginning. She’d tempted him, challenged him, and angered him that night. And she continued to do so. She was brave, caring, generous, and so passionate he ached to be with her again. She satisfied him. Completed him. And he believed she felt all those things about him, too.
But she wasn’t willing to marry him.
She had deep hurts that haunted her. He’d seen glimpses of them. But she was so damn good at hiding her emotions most of the time that they weren’t easy to detect. Her husband had obviously limited her freedoms. What else had happened in her marriage that kept her out of Society? An ailment? A fondness for drink that she hadn’t been able to control for a time? Whatever it was, did it now keep her from committing to him?
He couldn’t press her to tell him until he knew she was ready to face her past herself.
It had been almost a week since he’d seen her. That made for a difficult week. It would have been so easy to send over a note and tell her he’d be over after her housekeeper’s light went out. She’d made it clear that was what she wanted. An occasional lover. Lyon had scoffed at the idea. Just the thought of it had made him angry. Yet, he’d lost count of the times he’d written the note, thinking to accept her offer, her affection the way she wanted him to. As a lover. But no. All of the notes had been thrown into the fire and never sent.
He wouldn’t give in to a life he didn’t want for her or himself. He might be an impatient brute but he was a man of honor and he couldn’t bend to her will in a matter as important as this.
There was another reason he’d wanted to be at the ball when Adeline arrived. He had assured her no one would dare say anything to her about her impromptu visit to his home. Regardless of his aunt’s believable fib to Mrs. Feversham, the problem was, Lyon hadn’t completely convinced himself. Society was fickle as a whole, though they prided themselves on being stable and consistent. Because the gentlemen of the ton had reasons of their own for not wanting to besmirch Lady Wake’s reputation, he hoped the ladies of the ton would follow their lead.
However, it was best he be available when she arrived in case a toffee-nosed matron decided to take her to task over one of her assumed transgressions. It wasn’t that Lyon didn’t think Adeline could handle herself if rebuked by one of the formidable ladies of the ton. He had first-hand knowledge of just how strong and capable she was. And he’d have to let her do it alone, just as he’d remained quiet and let her have her say to his gaming club that afternoon in his home. But then, she’d need someone to talk to.
That would be him.
He would have to fight Lady Kitson Fairbright and Mrs. Brina Feld to do it. They had shown him they would take up arms for Adeline the afternoon he took the tarts over to her house. As soon as they saw him, they each rose to stand slightly in front of her so he’d know she wasn’t alone. He didn’t mind. They were true friends, but Lyon was now her protector. They would have to step out of that role.
Adeline was his to defend now.
He wanted to see her. Wanted her to see him watching for her. Letting her be herself at the ball without hindrance from him but all the while reminding her he was there and the only man for her. Pursuing a lady in earnest was a new way of life for him and he was still getting used to it. He’d always assumed that whenever he fell in love, the lady would consequentially fall in love with him. That she didn’t want to marry surprised him, and had angered him for a time. Now he was resolute in making her change her mind. One thing he was certain of, she wasn’t ready for him to go charging over to her door with flowers and another proposal of marriage.
Not yet.
But she would.
That he’d been the first man to touch her since her husband’s death was further evidence they were meant to be together. Two years had been ample time for her to find comfort in the arms of a man. Something had held her back. He felt certain it wasn’t lack of offers, and he had no doubts there would be others who would vie for her favors until he could publicly claim her heart and her hand.
Something had happened in her marriage. Something that disturbed her so greatly she didn’t want to consider marriage again. Maybe it was just her lack of freedom to do the things she wanted. She didn’t know him well enough to know he wouldn’t take that away from her? He wanted her just the way she was. Every self-confident, passionate inch of her.
Lyon scoffed a short laugh to himself. Ah, but it appeared Adeline was demanding of him the one thing that was hardest for him to do. Be patient. So he would wait until she realized she wanted him for a husband—not just as a lover. It was damn difficult for a man who didn’t usually have to work for what he wanted.
For her, he was willing.
There was no reason for Lyon and his father to move from their ideal position near the entrance and mill through the crushing crowd. Other gentlemen were quite willing to make the trek over to them in order to have a moment or two of the marquis’ time.
Lyon and his father had their differences, but Lyon loved him. He was one of the most respected and approachable members of the peerage. Patience and intelligence concerning matters people brought to his attention encouraged his popularity. He was genuinely fond of most everyone and was always willing to listen to their questions, arguments, stories, or rants no matter how unimportant they seemed to him or others.
Not so for his son. Lyon had never found it within himself to be as forbearing as Marksworth with people who wanted a favor, an introduction, or to just be seen with a man who wore a title along with his name.
“Good evening, Marksworth, Lyon.”
Lyon shifted restlessly. Annoyance shuddered through him at the voice but he and his father turned and acknowledged Viscount Thurston with polite greetings and exchanged pleasantries about the celebratory ball. Because the viscount was a member of Lyon’s gaming club, he knew Thurston to be a fair gentleman in all his business dealings and treatment of others. He was good with a bow and a pistol, and a blade. He could handle a horse better than most. The two got along amicably, and the man had visited at Lyonwood a time or two. Lyon hadn’t disliked the viscount until he’d shown an interest in Adeline. He couldn’t blame the man for that, but Lyon now saw him as an adversary.
“I wanted to ask a favor of you, Lyon,” Thurston said.
“What’s that?” he answered, though he knew exactly what the viscount wanted.
“I was hoping you’d introduce me to Lady Wake tonight. I understand she’s going to be here.”
“Unless you find someone else who can do it,” Lyon answered, seemingly uninterested, when truthfully the thought of her smiling at Thurston had Lyon tight as a violin string. It would be a cold day in Hades before he’d introduce the viscount or any other man to Adeline. He had no intention of helping another man pursue her.
“I’m not sure how many people remember her or have been formally introduced to her. I dare say not many are as familiar with her as you seem to be”—he smiled—“with her being such a close neighbor.”
Lyon’s hand tightened on his champagne glass as his eyes narrowed. If Thurston was trying to rile him, he was successful. “You dare say?” he repeated the viscount’s words, feeling the string about to snap.
“I’ll do it for you, Thurston,” Marksworth said in an easy tone that took the matter at hand away from both men. “Be happy to as soon as she arrives. I’ll find you and do the honors.”
“Thank you,” Thurston said with a nod, noting that the marquis was dismissing him as well as humoring him. “Very kind of you. I’ll look forward to it.” He gave another nod to Lyon and walked away.
Certain his expression hadn’t changed, Lyon looked at his father. “I thought we agreed you stopped speaking for me when you sent me off to Oxford.”
His father clapped him once on the back gingerly. “I’d never do such a foolish thing. A father never ceases to come to his son’s aid. You were about to give away every card you had in your hand. Next time you might want to look at them before you start laying them down. I don’t think you are holding a fist full of aces when it comes to the countess.”
Lyon shrugged off the truth of his father’s comment. “I don’t care if Thurston knows. I’d rather chew nails into powder than introduce him to Adeline.”
“The man has the right to ask for an introduction. From what I understand, you still haven’t claimed her.”
He had. He just couldn’t announce it. Until Adeline was ready. Her reservations about marriage and what she wanted had to be respected. Whether or not he agreed with her wishes.
“Stay of out this,” he muttered to his father and stopped another server to exchange his empty glass for a filled one.
“Wouldn’t dream of getting involved in your life,” Marksworth said with an easy smile. He turned back to the gentlemen standing with them and continued his conversation about the Prince.
From the corner of his eye Lyon saw Prichard. The man nodded to him and then tilted his head toward Thurston. Lyon grunted under his breath. Was every man who saw Adeline at his house going to ask for an introduction? He’d known tonight wouldn’t be easy. Gentlemen were already lining up to win Adeline’s favor. His gut twisted. He didn’t know a one of them who would reject an offer to just be a lover. Hell, that’s what most of them would want anyway.
Ignoring the man, Lyon went back to watching the door, and a few moments later Adeline stopped at the entranceway with Lady Kitson Fairbright and Mrs. Brina Feld. Each looked stunning, but he had eyes only for Adeline. She wore an amber-colored gown banded with thin strips of yellow ribbon. Her beautiful, slender neck was perfect for the choker of amber stones nestled around it and woven into her hair.
Lyon quickly glanced around the room. A few ladies had stopped their conversations to watch the three widows. Others joined them. The noise level softened around the room as more people looked their way. There were nods, glances and whispers. He wanted to be the first to greet her, gently squeeze her fingertips and kiss the back of her gloved hand as a proper gentleman would do. Instinct told him that wasn’t the way to woo her. She knew she already had his attention and she needed no show of outward affection from him. He’d let her settle into the room, talk with people, maybe even have a dance or two before he approached her. It’d be a struggle, but he would manage. This was her first evening back in Society. He had to let her handle it as she wished. He would talk, laugh, and sip his champagne. Maybe he’d have a dance or two himself. Anything to hurry the night along.
The Duke of Sprogsfield, Lady Kitson Fairbright’s father-in-law, walked up to the three ladies. Not surprisingly, the young and strapping Mr. Harvey Brightstone was with him and the first eligible gentleman to sidle up to the three ladies as they descended the steps into the ballroom. Brightstone had been looking for a bride with a plump purse for two years. Mr. Edward Wallace was another and he was the second to approach the threesome.
The crowd around the widows quickly became so thick Lyon could no longer see Adeline.
As he suspected, there would be no small amount of gentlemen standing in line for Lady Wake and her two friends this evening. Nor it appeared would there be shunning by any of the matrons of the ton. They watched for a few seconds longer and slowly went back to their conversations as if completely uninterested in the widows’ arrival. Perhaps his father and his aunt had nipped the gossip in its tracks after all.
Marksworth turned away from the other men standing with them and in a quiet voice said, “Lady Wake is here.”
“So you remember her,” Lyon said.
“No. I don’t remember ever seeing her before, but I remember the two widows with her so I’ll pretend I do when I speak to her later this evening. It’s easier to do that than go through an introduction. Lady Kitson Fairbright and Mrs. Brina Feld didn’t quit Society after they married as did the countess. But recognizing the other two ladies isn’t the reason I knew the countess had entered the room. I felt the change in you.”
“That’s not good.” Lyon stopped a server and again exchanged his empty glass for a full one.
“Don’t worry. No one else knows you as I do.”
“Somewhat reassuring,” he answered and sipped his drink.
“Do you think this time you might have found love?”
Yes.
Lyon remained silent. His feelings for Adeline weren’t something he could discuss with his father. Marksworth knew it but never stopped trying.
“I didn’t expect an answer,” his father grumbled. “But then you know that silence can be an answer. I take it that for some reason you decided someone else should be the first gentleman to greet her tonight.”
“There’s no hurry.”
“Oh, good lord, I know that,” his father said in a frustrated tone. “I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been trying to get you in a hurry to settle on a bride and marry.”
“Eight years,” Lyon said.
“Ah. You’re right. No reason to rush anything tonight. You’re wise to let the flurry of flapping coattails slow down before you approach her. That might give you an edge.”
Lyon grunted a laugh.
“I saw Lady Wake’s eyes. She was searching for you.”
“What?” Lyon’s breath kicked up.
“Ah, so you are interested in her. It’s not as if you couldn’t dominate her time as I feel free to do with Miss Ballingbrand since we are betrothed and will be married shortly after the Season ends.”
“This is not the night to start that conversation again, Marksworth. That is not a route I intend to travel.”
“I didn’t think so, but it is the night for you to meet all the young ladies who’ve just entered Society. I still hold hope one of them will please you. If not the countess, perhaps another. Turn around, I’m about to introduce you to the lovely young lady I met a few weeks ago. I mentioned her to you. Mr. William Palmont’s daughter. She’d be perfect for you.”
Lyon turned and saw the stout, bearded man and his daughter. “I’ve already been introduced to her,” Lyon said.
“Really?” Marksworth raised his eyebrows.
“I can’t believe something happened in London that you don’t know about.” Lyon lifted one corner of his mouth in a grin. “I was invited to his house for a dinner party last week and accidently met her. Much as you did a few weeks ago I suspect. I think Palmont wanted to make sure every eligible peer saw her before tonight in case any of them wanted to make an offer for a match before the Season began.”
“Hmm. He must not have had any takers,” Marksworth murmured just before the two stopped in front of them.
Lyon greeted the cheerful, green-eyed Miss Palmont and her father. There didn’t seem to be anything about the young miss to dislike. As a gentleman, he did all that was proper and expected of him concerning her, including asking her to save him a dance later in the evening. After a few minutes, he found an easy way to excuse himself from the trio when he looked up and saw Cordelia walking into the ballroom.
“You are looking beautiful enough to be the diamond of the Season, Aunt,” he offered and kissed her hand.
She laughed. “You are such a dear. You make me wish I had more nephews to flatter me.”
“I would never do that. I only tell you the truth and you know it. You are looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.”
“Well, it’s a wonder. I do get weary of telling Mrs. Feversham that it doesn’t matter if she has a spyglass, it wasn’t you she saw with Lady Wake in your back garden. Nor was it you she saw a few days ago traipsing past the hedgerow half-dressed with a girl from the school on each side of you.”
“So she saw that?”
“By the saints, Lyon! Was it true? I’ve convinced the poor lady she’s drinking too many elixirs for the pain in her hip and she must stop. Heavens! What is going on at your house?”
“Nothing you want to know about.”
“I do want to know if I’m going to keep defending you. Please get me a glass of champagne, Lyon. You know I love the taste of it and I’m suddenly feeling in need of a sip.”
Giving his aunt an indulgent smile, Lyon answered. “I know you like holding the glass.” His gaze swept over the room. He saw Adeline talking with Thurston. He couldn’t say the man hadn’t warned him.
“For the love of heaven, Lyon, you and Lady Wake need to be more careful.”
“Aunt,” he cautioned, “I can’t speak to that.”
“Don’t tell me this isn’t a discussion you want to have with me because I think it’s high time we had it. I’ve been a widow for twenty years now. I’ve had my share of lovers, but I was careful to keep my affairs of the heart a secret and so should you.”
Lyon blinked at the surprising admission. “You’ve had lovers? I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. These things are kept private.”
“Why didn’t you marry?” he asked, wondering why she wouldn’t want the more acceptable way of life. “I know you had offers.”
“Yes, but none I ever wanted enough to give up my freedom for.”
“Because you didn’t love them?” he asked, thinking of Adeline’s wishes and wanting to understand his aunt’s reluctance to marry.
“Heavens no. Unlike you and my dear sister, love was never something that interested me. Thanks to your father I didn’t need money or prestige. And I didn’t need love or marriage for what I wanted from my lovers.”
Lyon studied over her words. He could accept that there were some women who didn’t want or need a husband, but he had to believe Adeline wasn’t one of them. For some reason a lover was all she wanted from him.
“I don’t know what to think of young widows today,” his aunt said with a wisp of exasperation in her voice. “It’s as if they have no care for the proprieties Society expects of them. Lady Wake shouldn’t be seen in your back garden again under any circumstances, and you shouldn’t be using the girls as a reason to go to her house.”
“Is that what you think I was doing?”
“I can only assume as Mrs. Feversham does. Please do me a favor and take better care with your dalliances.”
“That woman doesn’t miss a thing. What kind of spyglass does the woman have?”
“A good one,” Cordelia stated. “The problem is that you and Lady Wake keep giving her things to see with it.”