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London 1806
“I’m finding it difficult deciding where to look,” Mr. Stuart Spencer said to his cousin, Lord William Spencer. “All these new debutantes making their formal entrance into society are straining my eyes.”
“Unless you want to find yourself leg-shackled, I suggest you look elsewhere. As you very well know, the debutantes and their mamas have one goal in mind. Matrimony.”
“It’s too bad really, I find the strawberry-blonde standing with Viscount and Viscountess Chambers quite alluring. Must be their one and only daughter if my memory serves me correctly?”
“You will do well and good to stay far away from her. Rumor has it the viscount made some bad investments, is utterly in debt and on the fringe of losing everything back to the crown, including his title. The family is relying on a match that will bring wealth back into their coffers.” William cocked a brow. “You, my dear cousin, may not possess a title, but you do have one thing they need—money and plenty of it. Your mother may have wed an untitled gentleman, but our grandfather was an earl and our grandmother a countess. You come from an aristocratic family and best watch yourself with.” He nodded in the strawberry-blonde’s direction. “That one.”
Stuart, called Spencer by most, laughed. “I’ll keep all this under advisement,” he said with a grin. However, I believe I’ll beg an introduction from her father. Excuse me.” Spencer didn’t need to glance back at his cousin to know he was scowling. And rightfully so. At the tender age of twenty-five, Spencer had no plans to marry anytime soon. He had no business hunting down Lady Miranda Carlton, except he couldn’t help himself. While conversing with William he’d been watching Lady Miranda. Her head tilting side to side while carrying on a conversation caused her lovely hair, piled high upon her head, to bob this way and that. The vision had kept his eyes riveted to her. He’d been unable to look elsewhere. The white gown she wore made her skin appear iridescent in the flickering light from the chandeliers. Unfortunately, he could not make out her eye color from this distance, nor could he tell if her face was smattered with freckles as most strawberry-blondes were. But he would soon. His long strides ate up the distance between them until he finally arrived beside the Carlton family.
“Viscount, Viscountess.” Spencer bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.” If the viscount and viscountess appeared shocked at his words, they hid it well. Although they traveled in the same privileged circles, he’d never been formally introduced or spoken a word to either of them. He only hoped they knew his name.
“Mr. Spencer,” the viscount said with a knowing look. Spencer should have known he would have done research on the available gentlemen of the ton before introducing their daughter to society. No doubt, only the richest graced their suitable marriage list for their only daughter. Was he on it? Doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for a wife.
“May I present my daughter, Lady Miranda. Lady Miranda, this is Mr. Stuart Spencer, the grandson of the Dowager Countess of Bridgeton and the late Fifth Earl of Bridgeton.”
Miranda curtsied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Spencer.”
Spencer bowed while taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.” He removed his hand quickly, not wanting to give her father any cause to think their search for a suitor was over. Spencer merely wanted to meet Lady Miranda and dance a waltz with her. Not spend the rest of his life as her husband.
Although, as he held her small, gloved hand in his and peered into her emerald green eyes, and noticed the light dusting of freckles on her pink cheeks, something shifted inside him. Something subtle and elusive, but something nonetheless. He would worry about the significance of that later. For the time being he would wait patiently for the first waltz as Lady Miranda promised it to him.
Begging his leave, he sought out liquid refreshments from a passing waiter and didn’t see his cousin sneak up on him.
“So, you met her. What do you think?” William asked with a shake of his head and a glare in his eyes. Almost as though he knew...something. But what?
Spencer downed his bubbly in one swallow, regretting it immediately as the fuzz made a comeback up his throat and nose making them tingle and him unable to speak. After a minute, he cleared his throat and replied, “Yes.”
“Yes. That is all you have to say.” William huffed. “I, cousin, watched from across the room and saw your eyes light up as you bowed, most gallantly, before her. And just now, as I approached you, you were lost in your own mind and had a lovesick look on your face. You didn’t even see me approach. Shall we go and find Grandmother and tell her the good news?”
“What?” Spencer could hardly breathe all of a sudden. “Me, getting married? Are you out of your bloody mind?” he yelled then cringed when several people glared their way. “It’s a waltz, nothing more, nothing less.”
“If you say so,” William said with a half grin. “Go have your waltz, I’m going to find the gaming tables and relieve someone of his precious coin.”
As William walked away and Spencer contemplated joining him at the tables, he realized his dance with Miranda was about to begin. He made his way back around the ballroom and bowed before her.
“Lady Miranda, I believe this is my dance.”
“So it is.”
She placed her tiny hand on his arm, paused, frowned at him and then allowed herself to be escorted onto the dance floor. So she had also felt the scorching heat they created when they touched? Good to know he was not alone on that front.
As he held Miranda in his arms, perfect form and distance between their bodies, he wished his insides would stop burning. He could hardly take his eyes off her beautiful face. Her eyes were a deep emerald green encased in long lashes. Her red-blonde hair, carefully piled high on her head with several curls cascading down her back promised to be silky and smooth to his touch. Unlike the so-called perfect English Lady, she had a smattering of freckles across her nose and high on her cheekbones. It only added to her allure in Spencer’s mind. She stood tall and willowy thin, not the highly sought after curvy and voluptuous. Only waltzing with her now, gave him imminent knowledge that she indeed had curves in all the right places. Her bosom pushed against her bodice, giving him a sneak peek of its creamy goodness.
“Mr. Spencer, are you unwell?”
“Pardon?”
The concern in her eyes was touching—albeit unnecessary.
“You groaned. I thought, perhaps, you were distressed.”
“Distressed?” He was distressed all right, but not for the reason she would guess. If he didn’t concentrate on something other than the delectable lady he was dancing with, the entire ballroom full of people would see what was happening to the lower half of his body.
“Forgive me, Lady Miranda, I am fine. Just in awe of your beauty and grace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” Her brows drew together in the cutest way, then relaxed. “You are very light on your feet for a gentleman and quite graceful as well.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself which caused her cheeks to turn a most becoming shade of pink. “Indeed. It is because my grandmother not only insisted that my cousins and I take dance lessons, which all gentlemen take, but she also tested us until she was satisfied with our abilities. I fear she thought we would embarrass her. ”
“How wonderful to have a grandmother take such interest in you. Pray tell, who are your cousins? Perhaps I would like to dance with them as well, knowing I would be in capable hands. The slippers I wear on my feet give me no protection from a man’s foot, and I so value my feet.”
Spencer chuckled at her words. “The Earl of Bridgeton and his brother, Lord William Spencer.”
“Are your cousins married?” she asked, then paused, her eyes widening. “Oh, dear. I have offended you. I am truly sorry.”
Spencer’s heart sank at her words. He must learn to hide his emotions better around her. No doubt she had read his disappointment. “No offense taken. The Earl is married to Sir Phillip Trenton’s sister, Lady Katherine. William is presently unattached and according to him, he will remain so for the foreseeable future.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” He lowered his head and murmured close to her ear, and he heard her inhale right before her body quivered in his arms. “Don’t waste your time trying to snare William into matrimony. He will not relent to you or any other female in this room.”
“Why not? Does he prefer men?”
Spencer missed a step, and they nearly collided with Lord and Lady Northborough.
“Aren’t you a little young to know about things such as that?”
This time when she blushed it wasn’t just her cheeks that turned red. Her neck and the tops of her breasts flushed as well, and Spencer swallowed the moan trying to escape his throat.
“I heard the servants talking one night. Is it true? Can men sleep with men?”
Once again he almost collided with the Northborough’s who sent concerned looks his way. He smiled and mouthed an apology. Thank God it was someone like the Northborough’s. If he’d done, to other members of the ton what he’d just done to them twice, they would have given him a tongue lashing and caused a scene. How did he know? Once, last season, a young couple danced a waltz and one of them tripped, he did not know which, the lady or the gentleman, not that it mattered. What mattered was old Lord Easton danced with his new, young bride. He took offense and lashed out and embarrassed the young couple. The lady in question, ran in tears seeking the shelter of her mother’s arms while the young man stood on the ballroom floor looking mortified. Eventually, his brother came to his rescue. It was all the gossips talked about until the next member of the ton caused a scandal and became the object of the gossips’ desires. Spencer didn’t relish being on the receiving end of the gossips. It could ruin one’s reputation and life.
“Lady Miranda,” before he could come up with a suitable answer, the music ended and he escorted her back to her parents and bowed off. While casually walking away, he looked over his shoulder once to see Miranda gazing back at him. He nodded his head and went in search of William.
***
As Miranda watched the handsome Mr. Spencer stroll away from her, she inwardly cringed. Once again her mouth landed her in a pickle. When he’d begged an introduction from her parents, she’d been thrilled. She may have never met Mr. Spencer before, but his reputation was well known to her. But not for the reasons one would think.
Her mother confided in her that they were in desperate need for funds. They’d gone into even more debt to purchase gowns for this season—her very first Season. And according to her parents, with any luck, her last.
Before coming here tonight her mother had gone over a list of eligible and suitable gentlemen whom they wanted her to consider. All rich and from well-connected families. Mr. Spencer and his cousin’s name were on the list.
At the time, she didn’t think much about the list. Several men whose names graced it she’d already met, and she truly hoped to never find herself betrothed to them. And if she did, she would run away rather than summit to being a wife to any of them. Deep down inside she resented the fact that she had to snare a husband quickly to appease her parents. And truthfully, how did her marrying a rich man help them? Didn’t it usually work the other way around when the gentleman received his intended’s dowry?
Oh dear! Did she still have a dowry? Not that it mattered when it came to Mr. Spencer. No doubt she frightened him off with her shocking words. If she ever had the privilege of dancing with him again she would apologize and then stitch her lips together. Never utter another inappropriate word or ask a shocking question.
Her parents always said her mouth would be her undoing. Now she understood. Think before you speak had been drilled into her from an early age. How had she forgotten tonight with Mr. Spencer? Easily, she’d found him fascinating and utterly handsome and when she became nervous she forgot that important lesson.
From the moment she spied him, walking across the room, his eyes on her, she knew her life would never be the same. Mayhap, not because she would eventually marry the man. Because, for the first time in her seventeen years, her insides awoke and sizzled at the very idea of being with a man. Even if she didn’t know what being with a man meant? She wanted it. With him. With Mr. Stuart Spencer.
Sadly though, she didn’t believe he would marry someone like her. Someone who couldn’t hold her tongue, and she mentally crossed his name off her list as well as his cousins. Another reason to cross them off came down to age. Most wealthy gentlemen didn’t marry until at least thirty and they were but twenty-five. Who was left? Three men reputed to be rogues of the worst kind. Lord Thomas Seabrook, eldest son of a duke, Baron Norwich, only son of an earl and Lord Edward Worthington, only son of an Marquess. Rakehells of the foulest kind.
As of yet, she’d not had the fortune or misfortune of making their acquaintance. Not to mention, all three of them were hardly twenty. Not exactly the age men considered marriage.
No, they were crossed off her list as well while they sowed their wild oats, gambling, drinking, and whoring.
At least she didn’t say any of that out loud. She had an addiction to gothic novels which fueled her unladylike thoughts. Thoughts she could keep to herself, her speech was another thing entirely.
Too bad her mouth escaped her control. She rather liked Mr. Spencer. He didn’t dress like a dandy, which she preferred. In her mind, how could she take a gentleman seriously when he wore a salmon or chartreuse colored greatcoat, waistcoat, or breeches? No. She’d learned long ago dandies were not to her taste. Handsome looks were an asset, but not something she needed in a husband. Kindness was a necessity as patience and a sense of humor were as well. Because she spoke her mind before thinking, a sense of humor topped her list. Money and wealth might top her parents’ list, but if she wanted a nice, happy life, her husband must laugh and laugh aplenty. Or at least laugh with her when she made a faux pas. Which to the horror of her parents, she did often.
As her thoughts drift back to Mr. Spencer, she had to admit he was most handsome with his dark hair and bluish-green eyes. At times they appeared green and other times blue. How odd, yet she’d found them mesmerizing.
She spoke the truth when she told him he danced gracefully. He did indeed. They were well matched in that respect since she could admit to herself she was indeed a fine dancer. More than fine, quite competent as was he.
His voice, a deep baritone, caused her skin to tingle in a good way, not like nails on a board in the schoolroom.
Too bad she ruined what they might have had with talk about men sleeping with men. She saw the blood drain from his face at her words. No doubt if the waltz hadn’t concluded when it had, he would have bowed off, embarrassing her and her parents. Oh well, nothing to do about that now. It was in the past. As was Mr. Spencer.
“Miranda,” her mother’s voice interrupted her musings, “Please let me see your dance card. It should be full with names by now.”
She reluctantly handed it over.
“Tsk, tsk, this will not do. Come with me while I introduce you to the gentlemen on our list. We can’t have you sitting out dances, you will get the reputation of a wallflower. And no daughter of mine will be reduced to wallflower status.”
“Yes, Mother.” She sighed as she wondered if she could somehow break her leg, now, rescuing her from those men on the list.
The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and dances with strangers. Several of whom had horrible breath and sweaty hands even through their gloves and hers. And most of these men were not on the list. Torture, it was pure torture to keep a smile plastered on her face and partake in polite conversation. A time or two she shocked her partner with her candid words. One gentleman blushed profusely. Really? Am I that horrid and embarrassing when I speak my mind?
Once, she found herself dancing a waltz with Lord Thomas Seabrook, who practically ignored her and if she wasn’t mistaken appeared to be in his cups. Oh, he was handsome, and debonair, but not for her. He wasn’t even out of university. Why her mother had his name on the list was crazy.
And contrary to what her mother suggested, she would not try to ensnare any man into marrying her. He either wanted to marry her or he didn’t. Simple as that.
Besides, she could not, in good conscious, compromise herself for the sake of her parents, nor would she do that to anyone else. Why should they suffer because of her father’s bad judgment when it came to managing his finances?
Oh, she knew entrapments happened and often. But not to her. She could never forgive herself for deceiving someone. For luring him out into the gardens on a warm, dark night such as this. Letting herself be caught with her lips on his, or worse, his hand on her bosom. In her mind, the lips she kissed belonged to Stuart Spencer. Her arms went around her waist as she shivered in awareness. Awareness of what, she wanted to know.
Not far from where she stood now, near the refreshment table, a deep voice drifted her way enhancing her already over-aware senses. Mr. Spencer was in deep conversation with his cousin, she presumed the man to be his cousin as they resembled each other. She could only surmise as she had yet to be introduced to him. An oversight on her mother’s part, no doubt.
Plucking a cup of punch off the table, very carefully so as not to get a drop of the pink liquid on the fingertips of her pure white gloves, she sipped it while pretending to listen to her closest friend Lady Beatrice Stone prattle on and on about dancing twice with Lord Frances Herman. A bore of a man in her opinion, not that Beatrice cared about her or anyone else’s opinion. She looked smitten with the bore.
“Beatrice, surely you are not setting your sights on Lord Frances already?”
Her friend blushed which answered the question. “Why not. He is handsome and witty. Why I nearly peed myself laughing while we waltzed.”
“No reason. The Season is just beginning, you don’t want to find yourself betrothed so soon you miss the rest of it.” Surely her friend wasn’t in love already? Love at first sight? Please, some people were so gullible to believe in such a farce.
“Is not the point of a Season to find a husband?”
Sometimes Miranda wondered how she and Beatrice ever became friends. They couldn’t be more different. Perhaps that’s why the friendship worked so well.
“I believe you are right. And if Lord Frances is who you want, then I’m happy for you.”
Beatrice leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I see who has caught your eye and he is most handsome.”
Miranda blinked and to her horror, blushed.
“Did you think I didn’t notice you waltzing with Mr. Spencer? Nor the way you were just eyeing him like candy the whole time I was talking to you. Which was so rude, did you even hear a thing I said?”
No...I mean yes...sorry.” She should have known. She’d never been able to keep secrets from Beatrice. Lowering her voice she said, “He is very handsome and appears nice enough.”
“But...”
“But, you know me. I may have said a thing or two that shocked him during that most scandalous dance called a waltz. Which I cannot believe my parents let me participate in. Most debutantes are not allowed to waltz. It’s unseemly intimate.”
Beatrice shook her head and frowned. “You might as well tell me what you said? I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That horrible?”
“Well, I shocked even myself after I uttered the words. And I’m quite convinced Mr. Spencer was too. Because really, how could he not when I asked if his cousin, William, preferred the company of men.”
Beatrice gasped and covered her mouth. A confused expression crossed her face. “I don’t understand?”
Good, Miranda thought.
