I need another drink.
Harold Greenfield, the Earl of Thornston, tried to curtail his frustration. He had been enjoying a whiskey at his club when the Duke of Fairmont dared to disturb his peace.
Peering down his ducal nose, Fairmont declared, “It is time you returned to the fold.” Fairmont settled into the closest wingback chair and stretched out his long legs.
The fiery liquid that was about to go down Harold’s gullet spewed from his mouth. “Why would I do that?”
“I need your assistance.”
Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Harold considered the duke’s request. In the twenty years they had known each other, this was the first time Fairmont had come to him for help. It was an odd reversal of roles. This past decade, Fairmont had remained his only contact with polite society. Harold remained silent and consumed another drink or three. The man couldn’t be serious. Could he?
Fairmont rose to leave, and Harold uttered a sigh. The man was his best friend, after all. Following the duke out of the club, he stepped up into the lavish ducal coach.
Seated on the rear-facing bench, Harold glared at Fairmont. “There is no good reason for me to place myself at the mercy of marriage-minded mamas and the empty-headed young chits.”
“All you have to do is accompany me to a few engagements and assist me in choosing the next Duchess of Fairmont.” A smirk appeared on Fairmont’s features. “What do you know of Miss Glenda Heart?”
“Why do you subject me to this torture?” Harold stretched out a leg and kicked the duke in the ankle. “Why don’t you have one of your sisters help you?”
“Are you serious? Lily is lying in, and Elise is… well, she is Elise.”
Harold asked, “Wait, Lily got married? How was it you allowed her to marry before Elise?”
How long had he been away from the ton?
Ten years.
Initially, Harold had enjoyed his freedom on the outskirts of the beau monde. But recently he had grown bored. Perhaps it was time he too considered the idea of marriage. A shiver ran down his spine. No, he still had a while yet; he had only just turned thirty.
Fairmont looked out the carriage window. “Lily endured three Seasons before she threatened a scandal if I didn’t give my permission for Lord Crossworth to marry her. They were married two years past; you were invited.”
“But what about Elise? How is it she is not yet married?”
“She swears she is content.” Fairmont slapped his gloves against his thigh. “I’ve tripled her dowry, but no one worthy has offered for her.”
Unbelievable. Elise was a beauty. Maybe a little quiet, but she had inherited her mama’s kind and patient demeanor. How could it be that no one had offered for her?
“Elise must be… what… six and twenty now?” Harold, for one, didn’t believe it. “What do you mean, no one worthy?”
Fairmont turned to face him directly. Harold could feel the man’s eyes bore into him in the dimly lit carriage. “Oh, she has attracted every scoundrel, rake, and fortune hunter, but they all offered for her dowry. None of them knew one thing about Elise.”
Harold shook his head; he shouldn’t have had that last whiskey before venturing out with Fairmont. “What are you blithering on about? What would you have a blighter know before you deem him worthy of your sister?”
Fairmont cocked an eyebrow. “Lord Crossworth was able to answer all the questions on my test without any issue when he asked for Lily’s hand.”
“Test! What test?”
Fairmont shrugged. “It’s a list of questions I ask every suitor.”
Only Fairmont would come up with such an idiotic scheme. Harold had to ask, although he was certain he already knew the answer. “Do you have a test for the position of duchess?”
Blithely, Fairmont replied, “Of course.”
Harold blinked to clear his vision, who was the man sitting across from him and where were they headed? “What wretched event are you dragging me to this eve?”
“I was informed both the lovely Lady Beatrice and Miss Glenda Heart are to be at the Riverington Ball.”
“Are you mad?” The Riverington Ball. The exact location of his downfall a decade ago.
“I’m of sound mind.” Fairmont employed his ducal stare. “And you are going to assist me in obtaining the answers I seek.”
The coach finally rolled to a stop. What questions could Fairmont have on his blasted lists? How had none of the gentlemen come up to snuff, allowing Lady Elise to remain unwed? Had the years been kind to her? For the first time in ages, Harold found himself in front of one of the ton’s dwellings. Would Lady Elise recognize him?
Making his entrance with Fairmont would be a bad idea. His friend might be in the market for a wife, but Harold was not ready to give up his freedom or his mistress. Confirming his misgivings, every head in the room turned their way as they were announced. The ton appeared to have remained unchanged. Lords and ladies scrutinized his appearance and quickly dismissed him. Damn them all to hell. Harold no longer cared for their opinion, nor did he seek out their acceptance.
“Will Elise be in attendance tonight?”
Fairmont narrowed his gaze. “Why?”
Harold tempered his reply. “I haven’t seen her in years. I’d like to become reacquainted.”
Gone was the relaxed Duke of Fairmont. The man had turned into his childhood friend, Benedict Brownstone, the older protective brother. “Stay away from her. She doesn’t need your sort hanging about her. It will only encourage the other rakes of our set to take notice of her.”
Fairmont’s warning cut. What exactly did he mean by his sort? “What? Am I not good enough for your sister?”
Harold might not have exactly lived the life of a saint, but neither had Fairmont. He was honest, never cheated at cards. He was not a pauper. His estates generated a sufficient—others might say lucrative—income, and while he might not have the wealth of a duke, he could easily support a wife. He wasn’t a dullard, despite only completing one year at Oxford. If he hadn’t been seduced by a professor’s wife and expelled, perhaps he might have graduated. In his defense, he hadn’t any idea who the woman was until it was too late.
When Fairmont failed to reply, Harold put it to him again. “Are you saying I’m not worthy of Elise’s hand?”
“Thornston, you are my best friend, and I know you better than anyone. Stay away from my sister. Find some other lady to pant after tonight.”
The warning sounded more like a challenge. Harold stood ruminating as couples whirled past him. He scanned the ballroom, looking for Elise. His curiosity demanded to find out why she had remained unwed.
Fairmont gave him a look that suggested he considered the matter concluded. He then shifted his attention to a dark-haired beauty who came into view across the room. “I’m off to claim my dance with Lady Beatrice. Try not to cause a scandal while I’m away.”
Scandal. Harold had learned his lesson a decade ago. Never follow a lady anywhere. They were all conniving harlots at the ready to trap a man into marriage. He wasn’t interested in following any of the ladies this evening. All he wanted to do was to locate Elise. Was she aware of her brother’s requirements? How would Harold fare should he attempt the answers?
Hidden behind the pillar, he searched the dance floor for familiar faces—one in particular. Surely, Elise would make an appearance. She had always enjoyed dancing. When he and Fairmont were learning the steps to the various sets, Elise often assisted by partnering with them. She never once complained when he had trod upon her delicate toes.
Bored at having spent most of the night avoiding the gazes of debutantes and their mamas, Harold made his way to the card room. He spotted Lord Kilman, one of the few he would consider a friend, engaged in a game with a lady. Interesting. Kilman was a skilled card player who was known to lose rarely. His lordship’s features were relaxed, but Harold caught the telltale tic in his jaw, which indicated only one thing: Kilman was about to be defeated.
Who was the woman? Her hair shone like silk, a string of pearls expertly woven through her dark brown curls.
Harold approached their table, curious to find out the identity of the woman. “Lord Kilman. Good evening.”
Kilman rapidly rose and stepped to the side to acknowledge Harold’s arrival and blocked his view of the mysterious lady. “Lord Thornston. It’s been an age since you were at a ball. What has you making an appearance tonight?”
“Fairmont dragged me here.” He attempted to peer around Kilman, but the man thwarted his view, leaning his hip against the table. If he were at one of his regular haunts, he would have just shoved Kilman out of the way, but this was no gaming hall. Relaxing his clenched fists, he plastered on a smile and waited for the right opportunity.
Kilman chuckled. “Fairmont? Where is the duke? Probably on the dance floor interviewing all the debutantes.”
His lordship’s shoulder shifted. Was he waving a hand behind his back? He was. Who was this mysterious woman Kilman was loath to introduce Harold to? To hell with being polite. “Who are you playing cards with?”
Kilman turned and smiled. The chair that the lady had occupied was now empty. “Oh, just an old friend.”
“Does your old friend have a name?”
“She certainly does, but I will not reveal her identity to you.”
Harold asked, “Why ever not?”
“Her brother would be livid to find out she was in the card room.”
He should have anticipated that every man in attendance would create a barrier, do whatever they must, to prevent him from becoming reacquainted with the ladies. “Who is her brother?”
“My lord, let’s get a drink, shall we? How many years has it been? We have a lot to catch up on.”
A drink was exactly what Harold needed. Anxiety and fear of rejection, feelings he had firmly held in check for years, were again manifesting. Only one woman had caused him to experience those feelings, and he suspected she was yet again the reason for this evening’s episode.
When Harold’s name was announced along with her brother’s, Lady Elise Brownstone had escaped to the card room. Hoping the distraction of a game of chance might dispel her inner thoughts and fears, she had sought the company of her trusted friend, Lord Kilman. Why had Harold appeared tonight alongside her brother? What madness was Benedict up to?
The ton had torn the man to shreds, and he had not appeared at an event in close to a decade. An irritating rush of excitement had flowed through her from head to toe at the mere thought of being in the same room as him. She was no longer an innocent girl of sixteen. She shouldn’t feel anything for the man. In fact, she should think of him as Lord Thornston, not Harold. They were no longer on intimate terms.
Elise crept back to the ballroom. Drat. Lord Tallow eyed her from across the room. Did he know she was the one who rescued Lady Esme from his evil plan? She weaved a path through the crowd to avoid him seeking refuge with her friends along the wall.
Lady Marjorie rushed to her side. “Thank goodness. You are here. Your brother has been by twice in search of you.”
Dorinda’s blue eyes glowed. “We each had to dance with him to keep him occupied.”
“I’m sure that was quite the hardship,” Elise replied. Her brother was the catch of the Season, young, handsome, and titled. There were times she wondered if they covered for her because it was what friends did or they were eager for the chance to spend time with her brother. “Well, I’ve returned. Did you see Lord Thornston arrive with Benedict?”
Dorinda answered, “Yes, it has set all the chaperones in a fine tizzy. They are guarding their charges with an extra keen eye this eve. Lord Thornston will not get away with ruining another innocent.”
Elise’s jaw clenched. Harold would never knowingly behave dishonorably. “He didn’t ruin Lady Clarissa. She remained a maiden and was no innocent party in the events that night ten years ago.”
Lady Marjorie asked, “Elise, how do you know? It is rumored he lured her out to the gardens.”
“Rumored. If my memory serves correctly, Lady Clarissa ended up with a proposal and marriage to Lord Dunnings. The poor man didn’t see her for the witch she is.”
Dorinda looked over Elise’s shoulder. “We could find out the truth of the matter.”
Elise asked, “How?”
“By asking Lord Thornston himself. He is approaching with your brother.”
Benedict stormed toward them. “Elise, where have you been?”
Elise plastered an innocent look on her face before turning to confront her very irate brother. “I’ve been here with my friends.”
Harold’s gaze volleyed between Elise and Benedict. With an all too knowing look, Harold interjected, “Fairmont. Will you be so kind as to introduce me to these fine ladies?”
“Lady Marjorie Wilcock, Miss Dorinda Arnet, may I present Harold Greenfield, the Earl of Thornston. Elise, you remember Lord Thornston.”
Yes, Lord Thornston, the rogue. Not Harold, the man she had been infatuated with from the age of sixteen until… recently. He was still as handsome as ever. Golden hair. Hazel eyes. The irresistible dimple that only appeared when he sincerely smiled. Tall. Broad shouldered.
Elise finally found her voice, moderating it with the hope she didn’t sound like a besotted youth. “Lord Thornston. A pleasure to see you again. Are we to assume you, like my brother, are braving the soirée this evening to hunt the perfect wife?”
What utter nonsense to spew at a man she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. It made her sound like some desperate spinster, hopeful of being considered. Mortification rippled through her. She’d like nothing more than to hide under the refreshment table. But she’d never been a coward, and at six and twenty, it was too late to start now. Elise stood her ground. Lifting her chin, she met his stare.
“No, not on the hunt for myself. I’ve decided to aid your brother in his.”
Harold’s response shouldn’t have brought about a volatile concoction of emotions within her, but they did. A turbulent stream of pleasure, relief, and disappointment. But hearing he was not seeking a wife made the idea of seeing him among the ton bearable.
With her voice moderated to allow only their intimate group to hear, Lady Marjorie said, “How extremely kind of you, Lord Thornston. Does that mean we should expect to see you at more events in the future?” Lady Marjorie was never one to shy away from a topic, and it was the reason why Elise loved her so.
“Only those Fairmont deems appropriate.” Harold turned to face Elise and boldly winked.
The unexpected flutter in her belly set Elise on edge as the strains of a waltz floated over the din of the crowded room. Harold was an excellent dancer. He had always acted the gentleman, never acknowledging when she trod upon his toes, instead setting her at ease with one of his devilish smiles. His hold was firm but gentle. The skin on her arms tingled, just as it had when he had held her, both on the dance floor and in the privacy of her bedchamber, all those years ago. Glancing at couples as they made their way to form sets, her eyes misted. Elise blinked away her tears. If only it were as easy to banish the mix of hurt and anger that resided in her chest.
Benedict pulled her aside, so no one else would hear. “You are not to dance or be alone with Thornston. Do I make myself clear?”
She felt her brows snap together and asked, “What has you acting so strangely?”
Benedict’s features were set, which meant his mind was too. “Take Thornston’s word. He is not looking for marriage. He only dallies with ladies. He is never serious. Stay away from him. Elise, promise me.”
“Now you are just being silly. Lord Thornston would never want to have a dalliance with me. I’m sure his mistress keeps him well satisfied.”
Benedict’s eyes widened like an owl. Even the swivel of his head to see if anyone had heard seemed rather owl like. “What do you know of such things?”
Shocking her now stodgy brother was one of Elise’s favorite past times.
Curious if Harold had a woman waiting for his company tonight, Elise lured Benedict into providing the answer. “Enough to know that Thornston wouldn’t want someone as inexperienced as me when he could have… what is his mistress’s name again?”
“Anastasia Vankish.” Benedict’s fisted hand slapped against his thigh. “Dammit, Elise. Stop your trickery.”
Poor Benedict. He had never been able to lie or hide the truth from her. And she loved him for it. It also assisted her when she needed information. Over the years he had helped her in foiling the plans of many unscrupulous gentlemen in deceiving or kidnapping innocents into marriage, which brought to mind her earlier conversation with Kilman. She needed to gather more information on Lady Isodora and the eldest son of the Viscount of Hawkbridge, Mr. Howlington.
Ready to be rid of her brother, Elise said, “I’m off to find Mama and return home.”
Benedict’s features softened. “I’m not ordering you home. There are so many eligible gentlemen present. Why do you continue to associate with those who are…”
“What? Benedict. Say it.” Her eyes never left his, daring him to vocalize his views. Their parents had raised them with the belief that while they had been born into privilege, respect and honor were gained from one’s actions, not from one’s title. With a slight shake of her head, she said, “I have no idea when you turned into a pretentious prig, but I remain stout in my beliefs.”
Elise turned and left in search of their mama. Elbowing guests as she pushed through the throng of overheated bodies, she avoided the lascivious gazes thrown her way. While she may be considered too old to marry but interesting enough for a dalliance, Elise had sworn never to engage in such activities again. And certainly not with the man who was still deceptively capable of stealing her breath and heart! Looking over her shoulder, she caught Harold staring at her. For one fleeting, delicious, and terrifying moment, she thought he might come to her. Instead, he moved to stand next to her brother, where he remained.
She would have to become accustomed to seeing him about if he was intent on assisting Benedict in finding a duchess—though if Benedict would just look past his nose, he would see the perfect woman for him right before his eyes. Dorinda might be merely the daughter of an obscure baronet, but she had an innate ability to converse with young and old on any topic with keen interest. More importantly, she was kind, fiercely loyal, and had the patience of a saint, which was of paramount importance for a successful marriage to Benedict. But if Elise’s brother couldn’t figure it out for himself, he didn’t deserve Dorinda’s heart.
Elise spotted her mama having a tête-à-tête with Isodora’s mama, Her Grace, the Duchess of Bansfield. Kilman had described the lady to her earlier. Perfect. She would have to convince Mama to extend an invitation for tea to Isodora and her mama.
With brisk steps, she stood before the pair and said, “Mama. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
“Of course not, my dear.” The dowager Duchess of Fairmont turned to her companion. “Duchess Bansfield, may I present to you my daughter Elise.”
Elise curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“My daughter, Lady Isodora, will be making her debut this Season.”
Rising out of the deep curtsy, Elise replied, “I haven’t had the pleasure to meet your daughter, but I hope to rectify that soon.”
“Elise knows most everyone, having been through many Seasons.” As the words tumbled out, her mama’s eyes widened.
Mama didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and Elise well knew there was no malicious intent in the comment. In fact, her tone had been rather boastful. “What Mama means is, having experienced a few Seasons, I may be able to aid Lady Isodora in navigating through all the rough straits and rocky shoals.” Elise tilted her head meaningfully toward a known fortune hunter who had conveniently happened by.
Her Grace’s eyes lit up as she caught Elise’s meaning. “Lady Elise, that would be wonderful! I’m of an age, and since I have a preference for country living and rarely come to town, I’d be honored if you would assist my Isodora.”
Elise grinned. Matters were falling quite nicely into place. “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace. Mama, might I suggest we have Her Grace and Lady Isodora over for tea tomorrow?”
Her attention was drawn away by the sight of Kilman talking to Harold on the opposite side of the room. While her mama and the Duchess of Bansfield made arrangements, Elise took the opportunity to let her eyes wander over the men. Both were of similar height and physique, yet her eyes were drawn to Harold. Why after all these years had her heart remained attached?
Harold’s skin heated as Elise’s gaze roamed over him.
“I’m pretty sure you have a purple beetle on your nose, Lord Thornston.”
He tore his eyes away from Elise.
Kilman raised a brow in question.
Not knowing what had been asked, Harold replied, “Yes. Yes, indeed.” It was best to always be in agreement, was it not? Oddly, his response invoked a smirk from Kilman. What had the man said?
Harold’s focus returned to Elise once more. Every time he tore his eyes away, they strayed right back, magnetized. His eyes followed the outline of her features, the tilt of her head at the perfect angle, highlighting her long elegant neck. The neck he had fondly nibbled upon. After years apart, the woman was still capable of distracting him to no end, eliminating all other thoughts.
He blinked the memory away. Elise sat perched on the settee, listening intently to the discussion held by her mama and another matron. The dutiful and obedient daughter and now the sister of the Duke of Fairmont. Harold’s nose wrinkled, and he swallowed his fear of never measuring up to the lady.
“Thornston.” Kilman demanded his attention.
“What? Sorry old fellow.”
“Elise is not in the market for a husband.”
Ah. Maybe Kilman could provide some insight into why Elise remained unwed. “Why is that?”
“She has seen and been privy to one too many schemes devised by rakes, scoundrels, and fortune hunters. She has lost faith in the male gender. Even her brother has disappointed her.”
“Fairmont? What the devil did he do?”
“He became an elitist.”
“We are talking of Benedict Brownstone, Duke of Fairmont, are we not? The gentleman that stood on boxes at Oxford, campaigning for equality among all students?”
Kilman’s gaze remained on Elise. “Yes. That was a long time ago. People change.”
He didn’t care for the way Kilman stared at Elise. There was admiration but also a hint of affection. Was Kilman in love with her? “Was it Elise who you partnered with earlier?”
Kilman chuckled and then answered, “I danced with many fine ladies tonight, but Elise was not one of them.”
The strand of pearls glinted in Elise’s dark tresses. Harold would wager she was indeed the same woman who had played cards with Kilman earlier. Why was the man not forthcoming? What were they hiding? His blood began to boil.
“Are you having an affair with her?”
Kilman’s eyes blazed. “Lord Thornston!”
Harold took a half step back, surprised by the intensity of Kilman’s response. Harold’s jealousy lowered to a simmer.
Kilman purposefully cracked his knuckles. “You deserve a sound thrashing for the suggestion.”
Harold stood eye to eye with Kilman. The hard glint in the man’s eyes was filled with something Harold couldn’t immediately identify.
Kilman said, “Elise would never engage in such activities.”
The man’s statement was laced with a tinge of longing.
Harold was the first to look away. “Beg pardon. I’ve been out of society a tad too long.”
What had he been thinking? Of course, the daughter of a duke would never trifle with a mere earl.
Harold said, “I find it rather perplexing as to why she remains unwed. She is beautiful, more so than my memory served me.”
“I thought I had a chance. I’ve been assisting her for years, building her trust, but as soon as you walked through the doors this eve, I realized it was not to be.” Kilman’s stance remained relaxed, but his intense stare had Harold on edge. “She still looks at you as if you hadn’t abandoned her.”
Is that what Elise believed, that he had abandoned her?
“Kilman, you are talking in riddles.”
“I’ve decided to take a quick jaunt to the countryside.” Kilman’s severe gaze left him and settled upon Elise. “I expect you to assist her while I’m gone.”
Harold’s shoulder sagged as if Kilman had just placed a heavy burden upon him. “How exactly am I to aid Elise?”
“You’re an intelligent man. You will figure out the how. But to start, you will need to acquaint yourself with Hawkbridge’s heir, the young Mr. Alistair Howlington. I hear he will be at Jackson’s tomorrow.” Kilman placed a parchment in his hand and said, “Get this note to Elise tomorrow. Do not let Fairmont suspect a thing. Understood?”
As soon as he nodded, Kilman turned and left.
The sadness in Kilman’s eyes confirmed the man was in love with Elise.
The earl was a well-respected gentleman. Had he not passed Fairmont’s test? Had Elise assisted in creating the questions? There had been a time when Harold believed he knew everything there was to know about Elise only to be disappointed when she never deemed him worthy enough to seek him out, not even when she had claimed to love him.
The earl’s cryptic revelations were a muddle in Harold’s head. He tapped the letter against his thigh. What did it contain? Was it a love note? Placing it in his breast pocket, he made his way outside to hail a hackney to take him home. He wouldn’t rest until he read its contents.