Her Secret Fantasy (11 page)

He was a long way from trusting the man, but opposing him wasn’t going to yield anything useful. Might as well go along with it—carefully—and see where it might lead. The man seemed fairly genuine, and besides, compared to Sinclair and the rest of the civilian Gentlemen of the Sub-Committee, Derek couldn’t help harboring a slight bias in Lundy’s favor, since he was a former soldier and had also served in India. Lundy was certainly right about one thing: They both were outsiders.

“So, who is this Miss Balfour?” he inquired, thrusting the more serious business aside as he recalled the footman’s words about the ladies.

“A very beautiful creature and my particular friend.”

“Oh, really?”

“Actually, she is my future bride,” Lundy admitted with an odd, almost secretive smile.

“You are engaged?” Derek exclaimed.

“Haven’t asked her yet, but soon.”

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“She’d better.” Lundy laughed. “You think my horses are beautiful? Wait till you see her. My little jewel,” he boasted. “Even some o’ them Patroness witches have called her a diamond of the first water. She’s gorgeous, man.”

“Really?”

“More than that, a lady to the core. Old family. Old as yours,” he added. “Very high class.”

“So, what is she after you for?” Derek drawled.

“My charm,” Lundy retorted. “What do you think? Her family’s bankrupt.”

“Right, so you are knowingly marrying a fortune hunter?”

Lundy shrugged. “Old bloodlines, like I said.”

Derek shuddered. “You’re brave.”

“Bates!” he barked at his driver. “Get the carriage ready to take the Major back to the Althorpe shortly. In here,” Lundy grunted as they went in the front door. Then he showed Derek into the great hall.

Ahead, three ladies were seated around a furniture grouping, silhouetted before a bank of mullioned windows.

In short order, Derek was presented to Mrs. Lundy, the beaming lady of the house with a startling, ugly rooster brooch pinned to her bosom, and to the girl’s chaperone, Mrs. Clearwell, an agreeable matron with star-shaped pins in her hair. Last but not least, Lundy introduced him to the elegant young woman who had sat quietly, motionless as a garden statue, from the moment he had entered the hall.

“This is Miss Lily Balfour,” Lundy informed him with distinct pride. He went to stand by her chair and took her white-gloved hand possessively. “Miss Balfour, this is Major Derek Knight, newly arrived from India. He is a cousin of the Duke of Hawkscliffe,” Lundy added, wasting no time in informing his “particular lady friend” that he had such a well-connected acquaintance.

“Major,” she clipped out, not even lifting her gaze to meet his.

Well! She was a toplofty one, Derek thought, taken aback by her chilly reception. Did she deem herself too good even to bother looking at him despite his ducal cousin? Derek stifled a snort. No matter. Bloody London debutantes. He had met her kind before, fortune hunters; they always went for the firstborn.

They would not spare the time of day for men who didn’t have at least a hundred thousand in the bank. Nevertheless, he greeted her with a gentlemanly bow. “Miss Balfour.”

She continued to ignore him, studying the floor with her face frozen in a haughty mask devoid of emotion.

When Lundy released her hand, she tucked it back onto her lap, where it nested with the other.

The older ladies pulled Derek into a chair between them and began quizzing him eagerly with a hundred questions.

“What brings you to England, Major?”

“I was sent to testify before the committee on the state of the army in India, ma’am.”

“Before Eddie’s committee?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And are you married?”

“No.” He couldn’t help laughing, for Mrs. Clearwell had wasted no time getting down to brass tacks. “Not me, ma’am.”

“Well, we’re just going to have to find someone for you, then.”

“Mrs. Clearwell!” Miss Balfour uttered, her head down in apparent mortification.

“Quite so!” Lundy’s mother chimed in, quite to Derek’s amusement. “Major, you must agree to come to my garden party. There will be an abundance of beautiful ladies.”

“Then I would not dream of missing it,” he replied. “Would you mind if I bring my brother?” His innocent query sent the pair to new heights of delight.

“You have a
brother
?” they fairly screamed.

“By all means, he must come!”

“Is he also a bachelor?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid that he is. Neither of us have been very lucky in love.” Derek suppressed a devilish laugh. Gabriel would want to kill him for this. By Jove, he’d drag the man out of the house yet. “He was hurt in battle before we left India.”

“Oh, how awful!”

“The poor man!”

“Yes, I know. I have been looking after him, but you know, I cannot match the tender solicitude of kind ladies.”

“Of course not, Major. How sad!”

“Well! We will be certain to make sure your brother is carefully tended at the party.”

“You are very kind.”

To his amusement, the pair of matrons continued doting on him. He was used to this treatment, most females wanting either to bed or to mother him.

He was not used to being ignored.

Miss Balfour continued ignoring him.

Really, what was so fascinating out there on the lawn? She was staring out the window with such absorption one would think there was a unicorn out there grazing in the flower beds. Derek watched surreptitiously as she tore her seemingly bored gaze away from the windows and bent her head, peering into her cup as though the tea leaves might reveal the secrets of the universe.

The girl was outrageously rude—or perhaps she had a toothache, he thought sardonically. Or perhaps his male ego was merely piqued at being ignored by a pretty young woman, never mind that she was on the verge of becoming engaged to Edward Lundy.

And yet there was something strangely familiar about her. He wished she would lift her head and look at him so he might figure out where he had seen her before.

Answering Mrs. Clearwell’s next round of prying questions about his sister Georgiana’s recent marriage to the Marquess of Griffith, he covertly studied Miss Balfour’s ramrod spine and demure, white-gloved fingers.

Done with her tea, she set the cup and saucer aside and clasped her hands on her lap again.

Her prim, buttoned-up manner touched him somehow.

Her figure was slender and lithe; she had light blond hair all wound up tightly in a neat chignon on the crown of her head. Little wispy tendrils framed her face and played about her nape, which, in turn, was wrapped in lace from the high-necked collar of her day-gown.

Very pretty,
he admitted to himself. Who’d have thought a clod like Lundy could’ve had such excellent taste? He was impressed.

At that moment, as if she had been acutely aware of his study all the while and simply could not take it anymore, Miss Balfour lifted her head and ventured a small, cautious glance in Derek’s direction.

Their gazes met.

Locked.

The air exited his lungs with a whoosh. His eyes widened.

Good God.

Recognition unfurled in a flash.

It was she! Mary Nonesuch—his mystery girl from the garden folly!

Surely he was mistaken.

He could not move.

The two older ladies prattled on. Lundy was picking his thumbnail, and Lily Balfour stared at Derek in dread, in warning, indeed, in a silent plea for mercy, her face alabaster.

He could not believe his eyes.

His stunned stare traced the elegant line of her neck, that lovely neck he had memorized so carefully last night. It caressed the pale blond of her hair, her ivory skin.

She
was Lundy’s fiancée?

But how—?

He did not want to believe it was true, but as the seconds passed, he realized with a sinking feeling that there was no mistake. No, he recognized the gleam of those lavender-blue eyes from behind the pale satin half-mask she had worn at the ball; the memory of their bright sparkle was seared into his brain. And her mouth. He had memorized its shape too carefully to be mistaken…and its taste.

His gaze skimmed the lips that she had offered and he had claimed so passionately just last night.

She shot him a warning glare, as though reading the sensual direction of his thoughts. Now it was Derek’s turn to drop his gaze.

His heart pounded as he did his best to conceal his growing bewilderment. What the hell was going on?

Considering the morning he’d had and all the people trying to play games with his mind, he couldn’t help but be suspicious of her, too. Had last night been some kind of a setup? A deliberate trap to entice him? Was she a part of this mystery, the huge sum missing from the army’s fund?

Lundy had already told him her family was bankrupt.

He remembered the diamond earring that he had in his keeping for her. Well, if she wanted it back, she was going to have to answer a few questions, plain and simple.

When Derek ventured another brief, wary glance in her direction, her eyes flashed out a warning plea not to expose her. He stared at her, obscuring his lips casually with his hand. He was sure their guilty wanting must be obvious to everyone in the room, but nobody else seemed to notice. It amused him to realize now that she had been sitting there not ignoring him, but trying desperately to escape his notice, as if she could hide from him.

Well, at least now he knew why last night she had refused to tell him her name. “Mary Nonesuch” had snared herself a rich nabob—and had risked it all last night for a few stolen kisses with
him.

The realization pleased Derek and certainly helped to allay some of his mistrust, but he would not be content until he’d had the chance to interrogate her personally.

“Let us get you some refreshments, Major. Lily, would you mind—?”

“Oh, er—of course.”

“That’s all right, I can help myself,” he said, rising to join her at the refreshment table some ten feet away. It was probably his only chance to get closer to her.

Tense awareness thrummed between them as he stood casually beside her at the table, surveying the display of various biscuits and finger sandwiches. Their backs were turned toward the others.

“It all looks delicious,” he drawled, needing nothing more than that to make her feel the innuendo in his words.

She edged away from him a bit.

“What do you recommend, Miss Balfour?”

With a haughty look, she turned her attention to the tray of biscuits and finger sandwiches. “You’d probably like most of it, Major. You don’t seem too picky. Edward, dear, what can I get for you?”

“Give me the same as the major,” he grunted.

Derek arched a brow at her, for he doubted very much that she had ever given Lundy what she’d given him last night. Lily Balfour slanted him an icy look of warning.

Derek fought back a devilish smile. “May I have the lemonade?” he asked gravely.

“I hope you choke on it,” she said under her breath as she handed him the pitcher, an angelic smile pasted on her face.

“You’d better be nice to me—Miss Nonesuch,” he taunted in a whisper.

She closed her eyes, pausing, as though she were still clinging to one last hope that he did not recognize her.

“Put some extra sugar in the lemonade for me,” her suitor ordered. “I like it sweet.”

Derek wryly handed her a spoon with which to do her future husband’s bidding. But the moment their fingers touched, she yanked her hand back and the spoon clattered down onto the floor.

“Oh, my!” she gasped.

“No matter,” Derek soothed, but they both bent down at the same time to pick it up and nearly bumped heads.

Lundy laughed with great, loud gusto at the near-miss.

“You have a talent for losing things, don’t you?” Derek murmured under his breath as he picked up the spoon and offered it to her.

She looked at him sharply, a question in her eyes.

He gave her the subtlest smile, confirming his find at the garden folly. “Hyde Park in an hour,” he breathed.

She acquiesced with the merest trace of a nod, though her look brimmed with worried mistrust.

They both rose again.

While he set the dropped spoon aside, she took a fresh one, plunking an extra rock of hard sugar into her suitor’s lemonade. She stirred it noisily while Derek helped himself to a few biscuits and a cucumber sandwich.

They returned to their respective seats nonchalantly, but before long, Derek rose and took leave of their little gathering. It was turning into quite a busy day.

As his host showed him out to the front, where the same carriage and driver waited to take Derek back to the Althorpe, Lundy could not resist gloating over his latest acquisition. “She’s somethin,’ ain’t she?” he boasted, grinning from ear to ear. “Beauty like I told you and a lady through and through.”

“She’s something, all right,” Derek answered, climbing into the coach. He pulled the carriage door shut.

You have no idea.

The ladies left shortly after he did, riding with the top down on Mrs. Clearwell’s pink barouche, the better to enjoy the summer’s day.

Lily held a parasol over her head as the carriage rumbled down the country road leading back to Town. It was all very well to enjoy the sunlight, but a lady on the marriage mart had to have a care for her complexion.

God only knew she had so few assets of her own.

Mrs. Clearwell pointed out a pretty lake half hidden by some woods in the midst of the meadows as they drove by, but while Lily nodded and managed to smile, her heart still pounded after her unexpected reunion with Derek Knight. Once more, the man had left her wits in an uproar.

Oh, she could not bear it. The suspense was agonizing. She had to know if he intended to tell Edward about her indiscretion last night at the garden folly.

Whatever happened, he could
not
be permitted to wreck her marriage plans—and she would tell him so at their upcoming meeting in Hyde Park.

Of course, it was dangerous to risk being seen in public with such a notorious womanizer, famous for breaking ladies’ beds, but if they could talk privately, clear the air, perhaps she’d finally have some peace of mind.