The Bewitching Hour Page 8

  Stratton blinked. “Really?”

  “You know I wouldn’t jest about something as important as this. I’ve been up there numerous times. It’s very secluded; an ideal place to have a little fun.” He looked past Stratton’s shoulder. “Ah, I believe the lovely ladies are headed back this way.”

  Stratton turned to see Priscilla and Cecelia engrossed in conversation as they came toward them. “They look as if they’ve been acquainted forever. What do you suppose they’re talking about?”

  “I imagine Cecelia’s telling Priscilla what an awful cad you are and to stay well away from you.” He laughed at Stratton’s look of disdain. “If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll steal your sister for a while. Mother intends to introduce her to the matriarchs of Almack’s tonight, poor girl. Might as well get it over with.”

  Stratton nodded. “Excellent idea.”

  “I thought you would approve.” He held out his hand out as the two women approached. “Lady Cecelia, Mother mentioned something about introducing you to Lady Jersey and Lady Pembroke this evening. This might be a good time to accomplish that.”

  “Oh, heavens.” A sudden look of panic crossed her face and she turned to Priscilla. “What if I say something stupid? What if they don’t like my gown?”

  “You’ll do fine,” Priscilla reassured her. “And your gown is perfectly lovely. Just remember to smile a bit, not too much, though, and hold your chin up. Don’t say any more than you need to. Some girls get nervous and start to babble and that isn’t at all the thing to do with Lady Jersey.” She lowered her voice. “Leave the babbling to her.”

  Cecelia smiled bravely as she looked up at her brother. “Eugene?”

  He nodded. “Go with Rand before Aunt Mirabella notices and wants to accompany you. That could be disastrous. I’ll find you later.”

  After they left, he said to Priscilla, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For putting my sister at ease.”

  “I’m happy to. She’s very sweet and a girl’s come out can be a little frightening.” A faint blush touched her cheeks. “And I must thank you for the orchids. They are exquisite. They are also inappropriate. We scarcely know one another.”

  Her response wasn't unexpected, but he said, “How puzzling. I’m certain you will receive scores of bouquets and posies tomorrow. Do you consider them inappropriate as well?”

  The laughter in his eyes made it very difficult for her to not smile at him and that would not suit her purpose at all. “Of course not. The orchids you sent were much more extravagant than a simple bouquet or posy. As I said, we scarcely know one another.”

  “Now that we’ve been properly introduced, we can remedy that.”

  “You seem very determined. I’m finding that a problem.” She paused, took in a breath. “Your missive stated you thought you had solved the mystery of Mary’s letters. Have you?”

  For a brief moment he frowned. "Walk with me, Miss Hawthorn." He offered her his arm and they slowly made their way through the crowd. "The truth is, I don’t know if I've solved anything or not. I spent some time rummaging around the boxes stored in my study and found a letter that may have come from her. It was signed with only an M. Would you know her handwriting?”

  She tried to remember when she had last seen Mary's handwriting and couldn't come up with a single incident. “I don’t know. She never bothers to send notes before she visits me. She just shows up as if I had nothing better to do than wait around for her to arrive. In any case, I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen anything she’s written.”

  Embarrassed by the predicament her cousin had placed him in, she added, "I almost wish Mary hadn’t left. She’s the only one who can convince him the matter has been settled.” She smiled ruefully. “Then again, her presence has never inspired tranquility and life is much more peaceful in her absence. There is something to be said for that, though it’s dreadful of me to mention it.”

  He smiled at her. “You could never be dreadful, Miss Hawthorn. I’ve brought the letter with me but would prefer to wait until we’re alone to give it to you. Unfortunately, my arrival has drawn some notice and who knows what gossip will ensue if we’re seen passing letters. I have no wish to mar your reputation.”

  That Lord Stratton would use the letter as an excuse to get her alone shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She stopped walking and simply stared at him.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he said softly.

  She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “Certainly not. But if we’re seen leaving together, people will talk.”

  Grinning, he said, “I’ve devised a way around that.”

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” she retorted. “You’ve likely had plenty of practice at this type of thing.”

  He bent his head toward her and whispered, “We will time it so it isn’t obvious. There’s to be a midnight buffet served in the drawing room. It will be a madhouse and no one will notice if we’re gone a few moments. Follow the corridor to the right of the entrance hall. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the corridor. It’s poorly lit, but lit nevertheless.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “We’re to meet midnight?”

  “Of course.” A look of amusement flickered in his eyes. “I believe it’s known as the bewitching hour.”

  “Should I trust you?”

  “I believe that’s a chance you’ll have to take.”

  She cast him a withering look. “Really, sir. You can be the most infuriating man.”

  He grinned. “I know.”

  Chapter Five

  Three hours later, Stratton was completely absorbed in planning the demise of Lord Mallory. Mallory was holding Miss Hawthorne close as they waltzed. Far too close. Mallory had said something to her and she tilted her head back and laughed. He was an arrogant clod who strutted around like a peacock. How could she possibly enjoy the company of someone like that? This was just too much. He had to do something about it.

  Priscilla felt his eyes on her, before she saw him. A brief glance told her he was not happy. As she whirled around, she kept her eyes averted. She didn’t want to look at him. Lord Stratton was far too handsome and elegant in his black evening clothes. Magnificent really. Just looking at him sent little shivers up and down her back. How ridiculous. She vowed not to give him another thought.

  As always, Lord Mallory was talking nonstop. With a pleasant round face and thick brown hair, he wasn’t unattractive, but he had always been a crashing bore, full of boasts and long-winded stories. Normally, she refused to do anything that might encourage him, but tonight she wanted Stratton to stew a bit. Lord Mallory was smiling at her as if he had said something clever. Lord knew that was impossible, but she smiled and laughed as if he was the most clever man she knew.

  “The play was absolutely wretched. An utter waste of the evening. We should have left after the first act,” he rambled on. “But Lady Cynthia insisted that we stay and as it was her father’s box we were occupying, we had no choice.”

  She shut out his drivel, knowing that she would fall over in a dead faint from total boredom if she listened to any more of what he had to say. She glanced back at where she had last seen Lord Stratton, but he wasn’t there. Really, how was she supposed to annoy him if he wasn’t even watching?

  When the dance ended, Mallory led her off the dance floor. His hand had captured hers on the crook of his arm and any chance of immediate escape seemed unlikely. Somehow, she had to get rid of him. “It’s dreadfully warm. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of champagne?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss Hawthorn.”

  “I believe I’ll wait for you on the terrace. It should be much cooler there.”

  He frowned at her independence. “You shouldn’t go unescorted. If you’ll only wait a moment, I’ll accompany you.”

  She smiled stiffly. “I appreciate that, but it isn’t necessary. There are a number of guests on the terrace enjoying the night air, so I’ll be quit
e safe. I won’t leave the terrace.”

  “It isn’t quite the thing to roam about unescorted.”

  “No, thank you,” she said emphatically.

  His frown deepened, but he left without comment to find their refreshments.

  She wandered toward the tall French doors that gave way to the terrace. It had been a wretched evening. There had been no shortage of dance partners, her every whim had been attended to, but she hadn’t enjoyed herself. And it was all Lord Stratton’s fault. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and it was becoming very irksome. She stepped out onto the terrace and took in a breath of air. The cool air was refreshing after the stuffy ballroom. The moon hung low and full and lanterns spilled a soft glow over the gardens beyond the terrace. It was a lovely spot.

  “Miss Hawthorn.” The sound of his voice made her breath catch. She couldn’t seem to help herself. It was so much easier to be vexed with him from a distance. Standing next to him, she didn’t have a chance.

  How absurd! And how could she leap so quickly from annoyance to desire? It was unsettling for one man to instill two such diverse emotions. Hoping she hadn’t betrayed her feelings, she turned toward him, inclined her head and curtsied. “My lord.”

  He took her hand and placed it between his. “Have you missed me?”

  “Certainly not,” she said disparagingly. “I’ve had such a wonderful evening that I haven’t given you a thought. Have you been enjoying yourself, as well?”

  Seemingly undaunted by her reply, he touched his lips to her hand ever so slightly. She felt the color burn in her cheeks and hoped that it was too dark for him to notice.

  “Well, let me see,” he murmured. “I’ve danced with a giggling young miss who went to school with my sister, a young woman my Aunt Mirabella forced upon me, who was so painfully shy she couldn’t so much as look me in the face and a bluestocking who talked of nothing but Shakespeare. I lost every cent I had in my pocket to Rand in the card room, and I managed to frighten off several young pups who I felt did not have my sister’s best interest at heart.”

  She couldn’t keep from laughing. “You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you?”

  “Unavoidably so.”

  They were interrupted by the sound of someone loudly clearing his throat. Lord Mallory was holding a glass of champagne in each hand. His eyes were fixed on Stratton.

  Stratton grinned widely. “Mallory, old friend. How have you been?”

  “Lord Stratton,” he muttered as he handed Priscilla her glass. “What stroke of fortune brings you here? I thought town life was not to your liking. Have you grown weary of the country? I must say the idea of looking after crops and livestock and such seems an unpleasant chore.”

  “No, I still prefer the country. I’m not ready to turn myself into a town dandy,” Stratton added as he cast his eye on Mallory’s puce jacket and green striped waistcoat. “But I have responsibilities that have called me to London.”

  “Will those responsibilities keep you here for the entire season? Given your preferences, I would imagine you would be feeling quite hemmed in after a while.”

  “Possibly.” Stratton shrugged gracefully. “But I will take it in stride. Duty calls, you know.” He winked at Priscilla. “At present, I’m focusing on the pleasantries of the season and have come to claim the dance Miss Hawthorn has promised me.”

  “But the music has yet to begin and Miss Hawthorn hasn’t finished her champagne,” Mallory said with a touch of hostility. “Have you, my dear?”

  Priscilla smiled politely at him. “My lord, I’m quite refreshed for the moment, but it’s most considerate of you to see to my needs. Thank you.”

  “Very well.” He made no attempt to disguise his displeasure. “With your permission, I will call on you tomorrow morning.”

  “Mrs. Hutton and I will look forward to it.”

  “If you will excuse us, Lord Mallory.” Stratton took her arm and led her back into the ballroom.

  “I don’t believe Lord Mallory much cares for you,” she commented.

  “Lord Mallory hasn’t much cared for me since we were at Eton. I’m afraid Rand and I pulled a few pranks on him and he still hasn’t found it in his heart to forgive us.” He guided her toward the refreshment table and set down her glass of champagne. “I had expected to meet you at the end of the corridor, but as he seemed to be keeping you away from me, I could not help but intervene.”

  “The corridor?” Her voice rose in surprise. “I thought we were to meet at midnight.”

  Stratton stopped, pulled out his gold fob watch and checked the time. “But it is, Miss Hawthorn. Straight up twelve.”

  She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “That’s impossible. The buffet hasn’t been announced. It can’t be more than eleven o’ clock.”

  “But I have proof.” He held up the watch. “How can you doubt me?”

  She glanced at the watch. Both hands rested on twelve but the watch didn't appear to be ticking. The sneak. “Easily. I believe you changed the time on your watch.”

  He squinted as he examined the watch. “So I have. I wonder why I did that.”

  She wasn't certain whether to laugh or walk away in a huff. “To trick me. You seem to have a habit of that.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Not to trick you. To save you.”

  Save her? Perhaps he was touched in the head. “Save me from what?”

  “That odious man you were dancing with.”

  “He isn’t odious. Lord Mallory is the perfect gentleman.” She stopped and shook her head. “I can’t lie. He is odious. I can’t bear him at times.”

  “You did a fair job of pretending to enjoy his company.”

  “It was my intent to be polite, nothing more.”

  “But the man is wearing a puce jacket with a lime green striped waistcoat,” he said in a horrified tone. “How could you possibly dance with a man who wears puce with lime green stripes? I thought it imperative to whisk you away. ”

  She broke into laughter. "Perhaps, you were quite right to save me. Thank you.”

  “I’m always at your service, Miss Hawthorn.”

  “How gallant of you.”

  The orchestra struck up a quadrille. “A quadrille. What a disappointment,” he remarked as they moved past the crush to find their places on the dance floor. “Had I thought, I would have bribed the musicians to play another waltz. A waltz is far more fun than a quadrille.”.

  She found herself drawn into his banter. “But what would you have used as a bribe?” she asked. “You claimed your pockets were empty.”

  “Alas. That’s true,” he murmured as he turned to face her. “No waltz and not so much as a farthing in my pocket. Will the misery ever end?”

  “Something tells me you’ll find a way to manage.”

  As crowds were swarming the enormous buffet tables, sampling roast pheasant, fresh oysters, lamb with mint jelly and a vast array of other culinary delights, Priscilla slowly made her way down the shadowy, elaborately appointed corridor. It wasn’t completely dark. Candles flickered every ten paces or so, but it was dark enough to make her feel a little uneasy. She briefly considered turning around and going back to the ballroom.

  “Miss Hawthorn.” A small gasp escaped her lips as a tall figure stepped out in front of her, his face illuminated by the small candelabra that he held. His face was sculpted by the soft light; square chin, strong jaw, a wave of dark hair falling over his wide forehead. A shiver ran through her. Why did he have to be so appealing? He lowered his head and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She backed up against the wall as she tried to quiet the pounding of her heart. What on earth possessed her to meet with him here? Had she lost her mind? “I knew it was you,” she said a little breathlessly. “You just startled me. I didn’t expect it to be quite so dark.”

  “Mrs. Danfield tries to discourage her guests from using other areas of the
house for their own clandestine purposes.” He held the candle up to his face again and smiled. “It doesn’t necessarily work.”

  Wondering how frequently he had clandestine meeting with other ladies, she then decided it might be best if she didn't know. “It certainly hasn’t prevented you from sneaking about.”

  “No, but I don’t really consider myself a guest. Rand and I have been best friends since we were six or so. I know this house as well as I know my own.”

  The image of a dark haired rough and tumble little boy came to mind. “I would expect that the two of you were constantly into mischief.”

  He laughed a low rumbling laugh. “I’m afraid the word mischief doesn’t do us justice. Our tendency to pull pranks didn’t start at Eton. It started here. We were merciless opportunists. Rand’s nursemaid was old and slow and I’m afraid we took full advantage of that. I’m surprised Mrs. Danfield didn’t permanently bar me from the premises, though Rand was usually the instigator. We were better behaved at my house, but not by much.”

  She laughed, relieved by the flow of conversation. “You can’t leave it at that. You must tell me what you did.”

  “Are you certain you want to hear this? The elevated regard you currently hold me in, may well plummet drastically.”

  She did want to hear it. "Please do continue."

  “There’s so much to pick from I barely know where to begin. I suppose the summer before we were sent off to Eton, we were at our absolute worst. No.” He shook his head. “Actually that’s not true. We were at our worst when we were at Oxford, but by that time we had fine-tuned our skills enough to not get caught.

  “But, back to our boyhood pranks. We had wheelbarrow races down the corridors of the Danfield's home in the country. We tried to talk Elizabeth, Rand’s little sister, into riding in one of the wheelbarrows, but she wouldn’t do it. So we took her dolls to use as passengers. She told on us but not before we had crashed into several tables, beheaded one of her dolls and broken a fairly valuable vase that Rand’s grandfather had brought back from Germany." Smiling, he propped a hip against a narrow, ornately carved table next to the wall. "My father rarely resorted to thrashing, but I received my just deserts when I arrived home that day. I don’t think either Rand or I were able to sit down for a week after that. It didn’t seem to stop us, though. They even hired a second nursemaid, but we just couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.”