Ambersley (Lords of London) (33 page)

As they sashayed through the country dance, Harry regaled Johanna with the story of his meeting Lady Charis. “A true beauty, and very elegant on her feet, but absolutely lacking in conversation. I asked if she were enjoying the evening, and she said ’yes.’ I asked if she wanted to partake of the buffet, and she said ’no.’ I was tempted to ask if she wanted to sneak away with me onto the balcony for a kiss just to see if it would shock her into more than a single word answer.”

Johanna laughed at his foolery in a most unladylike manner. “A kiss on the balcony? How wicked of you—imagine your horror if she’d answered ’please!’”

Harry shouted with laughter.

“
You’re disrupting the floor,” Derek whispered loudly as he danced by with none other than Charis Sumner.

Harry and Johanna shared a look and retired to the refreshments table where they could laugh their fill.

“
Are you enjoying your evening, Lady Charis?” Derek asked the beauty.

“
Yes, Your Grace,” she managed to reply, a pretty color rising in her cheeks.

Derek tried again. “Will you be remaining in London for the Season?”

She nodded mutely.

Derek sighed inwardly. It was so often the case with the nonpareils—they shone like diamonds, but there was nothing beyond the first flash. He wondered how long the dance would last, and then sighted Johanna and Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry handed her a glass of champagne with a smile. Johanna accepted it and took a long slow sip, her eyes never leaving Charis. There her smile faded.

Derek considered the beauty in his arms in a new light. They’d told Johanna how sought after she would be, but did she understand what a prize Derek was considered on the marriage mart? Perhaps an illustration might make her look upon him more favorably.

He spun his partner and spied Rosalie on the opposite side of the room. Her tight-lipped smile and narrow eyes revealed her displeasure. Derek’s lips twitched, but he held back from gloating. His stepmother’s resentment toward Johanna was palpable. If she ever guessed he planned to wed his distant cousin, she’d do everything in her power to destroy his plans.

Chapter 15

London, May 1815

The Ambersley ball was accounted a masterful success, and Olivia recognized as one of the belles of the season. But Harry’s prediction proved most accurate: the
ton
laid themselves at Johanna’s feet. Calling cards arrived at Portman Square in such volume that Taft had to replace the small salver with a delicate silver basket. Johanna and the Coatsworths were included on every hostess’s list for suppers, breakfasts, balls, musical evenings and more.

A month after her London debut, Johanna ransacked her wardrobe for something to wear to that night’s round of parties.

Aunt Bess smiled at her vexation as she discarded dress after dress as having been worn too recently. “Now do you understand why we purchased so many things?”

Johanna shook her head. “It’s a ridiculous waste, but I agree it will never do to wear the same dress twice in one week.” Johanna finally settled on a peach gown that complimented the chestnut streaks in her brown hair. After visiting three parties, she calculated over seven hundred people would see this dress. With a sigh, she admitted she would need to suffer another trip to the dressmaker.

As little interest as she had in the endless merrymaking, Johanna was determined to impress Society for Aunt Bess’s sake. And so she suffered the tedium of dances, courteous introductions, endless glasses of lemonade and determined to have a good time. Were Harry present, this was easy. If he had other plans for the evening, Johanna donned a mask of vivacity and set forth with Aunt Bess. She wore the mask well, though it slipped a bit each time she caught Derek with Charis Sumner.

They met at many of the same functions, but in their guise of guardian and ward, he rarely sought her out for more than a perfunctory greeting. Whether he was complimenting the host on a successful party, chatting with the patronesses of Almack’s or dancing with a wallflower, Johanna was aware of him. He was the most popular man in London—so popular, he didn’t have time for his ward. While she danced and laughed at whatever her partner said, she tried to ignore Derek.

But he proved impossible to ignore. His rare laugh carried to her ears, or she spied his broad shoulders from the corner of her vision. Once she caught his blue eyes glowing by candlelight as he seemed to follow her movements, and she grew so lightheaded she feared she would faint.

She’d met countless men of varying ages and degrees, but none lingered in her thoughts to rival Derek. Except for Lord Worthing. Which was odd, because she’d only ever spoken to him at the Sedgefield ball. She saw him often at parties she attended or while riding in the park. He never approached her, and on such scarce acquaintance, she didn’t dare approach him. She’d heard one young man say Worthing was famous for his set downs.

Not that his opinion scared her. After all, why should it? She’d learned he was a leader of the Corinthian set, a member of the Four Horse Club and he had four sisters—Lady Sedgefield being the eldest, and the youngest, a Miss Marianne, who had yet to be presented. Whenever he deigned to visit Almack’s, the patronesses preened as if the rooster had entered the henhouse. But even Lady Jersey admitted he didn’t seem to have an eye for any particular young lady.

Except, Johanna had the uncanny sense he watched her.

When asked, Aunt Bess had sighed over him. “Don’t set your cap at him, Johanna. I’ve heard tell he’s broken a fair number of hearts. Although,” she said, tapping her forefinger against her chin, “you two would make a fitting match. I’ll mention it to Derek.” But Aunt Bess didn’t speak of Worthing again after that.

Johanna didn’t view him as a potential match. Nor did she agree with Harry that Lord Worthing still meant Derek any ill will. He roused her curiosity, nothing more.

By late May, Johanna had grown comfortable enough in London to walk with Nancy to Clark & Debenham in Cavendish Square whenever she needed to purchase ribbons, trims or other trifles. She’d just handed her purchase to Nancy and started down the haberdasher’s steps when she spied Lord Worthing.

He saw her, too, and stopped to tip his hat. “Good day, Lady Johanna.” Dressed for riding, he showed a good leg in his fawn-colored breeches and gleaming Hessians. Brightened by the early afternoon sunshine, his coat of pale blue emphasized the silver flecks in his eyes.

She dipped a curtsey. “Lord Worthing.”

He looked about. “What, no warden today?”

“
None but Nancy. It’s only a short walk home.”

“
Then allow me to escort you.”

Pleased to have an opportunity to speak with him again, Johanna agreed.

“
Miss?” Nancy drew her attention. “Remember, you’ll want to change before you go driving.”

Worthing raised a brow. “Do you handle the reins?” He fell into step beside her.

“
Not with any skill. Mr. Ardmore is taking me to test his new pair of match bays around Hyde Park.”

“
Ardmore? I think not. He left for Sussex this morning. I was told he’d applied to Derek for your hand and was refused.”

So great was her surprise, Johanna tripped on the hem of her skirt.

Lord Worthing steadied her elbow and peered down into her face. “Did you not know?”

“
That he planned to propose? No.” She tried to fathom young Mr. Ardmore taking her in a passionate embrace, but the vision only made her skin turn clammy.

“
Has Derek discussed any of your suitors with you?”

“
There’s been more than one?”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and moved forward again. “It’s hard to trust the rumor mill, but I can vouch for four men who’ve claimed they addressed Derek on the subject.” He looked down on her, the intensity of his eyes unnerving. “May I be frank with you?”

With trepidation, she nodded. “I wish someone would be.”

“
Guard your heart, for there are a number of men at White’s who’ve entered a pool of wagers concerning you.”

“
I don’t understand.”

His brow furrowed as he frowned. “There’s no polite way to say this. A number of men are betting on who will become your husband. You have your own page in their betting book.”

Embers of incredulity kindled deep within her and sparked to outrage. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“
No, and I shouldn’t have told you, except—” His features softened as he smiled. “Except you strike me as rather an uncommon female. I felt you deserved to know.”

Beneath his appraising gaze, Johanna’s face warmed, and she tried to blame it on the sun. She touched her bonnet, but then a thought struck her. “Are
you
considering offering for me?”

Lord Worthing’s lips curled into a wide grin, and the silver flecks in his eyes sparkled with repressed laughter. “My dear outrageous girl, how am I to answer?”

“
Honestly, if you please.”

He laughed at that. “I doubt Derek would look favorably on my suit. Besides, he’d be a damn fool not to marry you himself.” He drew them to a stop.

She looked away from him and discovered they stood outside the Coatsworth house.

His finger touched her chin, and he tilted her face back to meet his gaze before releasing her. “You deserve a better husband than I would be, but I hope you shall count me as a friend.”

“
Derek has warned me away from you.”

“
Has he?” Worthing looked away, the sun lighting a tic in his cheek. “He’s first and foremost your protector. He’s probably right to keep you from my lecherous clutches.”

Though his tone was dark, Johanna smiled. She liked his unexpected candor. Bravely, she laid a hand on his sleeve. His muscle tensed beneath the fabric at her touch. “I choose my own friends, and I shan’t allow you to disparage yourself so.”

His features softened again. “Brave girl. Now run along inside before Mr. Coatsworth sees fit to chase me off.”

She doubted anyone could chase Lord Worthing away. “Thank you,” she said.

He tipped his hat, turned on his heel, and strode away without a backward glance.

Nancy sidled up beside her. “Miss—?”

“
I’d appreciate it if you’d forget everything you just heard, Nancy.”

“
Aye, Miss."

Johanna let them into the house and, leaving her bonnet on, went in search of Harry. She found him in the front drawing room dozing over a book. Normally, she would have allowed him to sleep, for he’d been keeping all sorts of odd hours, but her conversation with Lord Worthing pressed her to wake him. “Harry!”

“
Huh?” The book slid from his fingers as his head shot up, and he shook it slightly. “Oh, Johanna. Say, got a note from Ardmore. He’s been called out of town.”

“
Hmm. So, the rumors are at least partially true.”

“
Rumors? What rumors?” He retrieved the book and laid it on a table.

“
I heard he asked Derek for my hand. Tell me,” Johanna pinned him with an angry glare, “Is this the first man Derek has turned away, or have there been others?”

“
Well, um…no. Not the first.”

“
How many?”

“
Seven, maybe eight.”

Johanna threw her arms upward. “Seven!” She wheeled back to face Harry. “You
knew.
You knew yet never said a word to me. Do you know of the bets at White’s, too?”

His brows knit. “What bets?”

“
On who will win my hand. Lord Worthing told me I’ve earned a page in the betting book.”

“
You in the betting book?” Harry pushed a hand through his hair. “The blackguard. He should never have shared such indecent information with you.”

“
Oh, so it’s fine for men to be placing bets upon me so long as I know naught about it.” She snorted with contempt.