The Bewitching Hour (15 page)

“I’ll wager that it’s pheasant,” Lord Hamilton said to Olivia. “Yes, I’m almost certain it’s pheasant.”
      “Maybe.” Olivia wrinkled her brow as she considered his statement. “But I’m leaning toward squab. I believe Lady Almont is partial to squab. Whatever it is, it smells heavenly and I think it’s quite unfair to let these wonderful smells drift through the house when it’s at least another twenty minutes to dinner. I believe she does it on purpose.”
      “Mmm. I still think it’s pheasant.” Lord Hamilton sniffed the air once more. “With chestnut dressing and something with apples. And lobster.”
      “Yes. I’ll agree with you on the rest, but the pheasant I’m not so certain of.” She turned to Priscilla. “What do you think, Priscilla? Pheasant or squab?”
      Priscilla had been too engrossed in watching the guests arrive for Lady Almont’s dinner party to pay much attention as Lord Hamilton and Olivia speculated as to their dinner menu. It was a sizable gathering for a dinner party. She surmised that the guest list probably totaled fifty and it would be an absolute crush once the ball began. Enough that she and Lord Stratton could steal away for a little bit. Good Lord. The thoughts that man made her think! They were perfectly indecent. She felt a nudge in her side and realized that Olivia was talking to her.
      “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m afraid I was wool gathering. What did you say?”
      “We were discussing the menu. Lord Hamilton has decided that we’re having pheasant, but I think we’re having squab. Which one of us do you think is correct?”
      Priscilla closed her eyes and gently sniffed the air. “Neither. It’s turkey.”
      “You know, Olivia,” Lord Hamilton said slowly. “She just may be right.”
      Olivia shook her head. “I still say it’s squab.”
      The spirited debate continued but their voices withdrew to the background as Priscilla returned to her own thoughts. Where was Lord Stratton? He had sent over a note stating he wasn’t free for an afternoon visit but would see her at Lady Almont’s dinner party this evening. She hadn’t realized how much she had been looking forward to his visit until she found out he wasn’t able to come. And she was more than a little annoyed that his absence affected her so.
      She turned her back to the door and tried to concentrate on the playful banter between Olivia and Lord Hamilton. But even with her back turned, the moment Stratton guided his aunt and sister into Lady Almont’s drawing room, she knew he was there. It was uncanny. Her pulse quickened and a tremor of expectation coursed through her veins as she turned and watched him greet their hostess.
      Everything about him bespoke a simple elegance. He was fashionably attired in a dark gray jacket and trousers in lieu of the black evening wear he had worn previously. His white cravat was simply tied and his hair was combed back from his forehead. Though half a head taller than most of the men in the room, the aura of power and strength he possessed had nothing to do with his size. It was a characteristic she found both comforting and a little frightening. He leaned over and spoke to Mirabella who bobbed her head as she spoke, striking him full in the face with an explosion of pink ostrich feathers.
      Priscilla let out an involuntary gasp followed by an inelegant snort of laughter. She had been so engrossed in watching Stratton that she had missed seeing the hat. His intent to save London from the pink feathered headdress had been thwarted. How had Lady Fitzberry managed to get a hold of it?
      Stratton looked up, met her gaze and grinned. Not even a face full of pink fluff seemed to disconcert the man.
      “Oh, my,” Olivia murmured. “Isn’t that an unusual hat Lady Fitzberry’s wearing?”
      Lord Hamilton cleared his throat. “Quite unusual.” He peered over his wire rimmed glasses. “Do you suppose it can fly?”
      “Possibly in a strong wind,” Olivia replied. “It looks terribly ungainly, though. I doubt it would get very far.”
      “I suppose you’re right.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It would be quite an interesting sight, though.”
      Up until this point Priscilla had managed to control her laughter, but the thought of the pink monstrosity taking off in flight and circling the drawing room was more than she could deal with. She burst into a fit of giggles which she quickly tried to hide by coughing.
      Lord Hamilton looked at her with concern. “I say, do you need a slap on the back or a glass of water?”
      She removed her hand from her mouth as she shook her head. “No, my lord. I’m quite recovered.”
      “Is the young lady with Lord Stratton his sister?” Olivia asked. “She’s very striking, isn’t she?”
      Priscilla nodded “Yes. I met her at Mrs. Danbury’s ball. She’s very sweet.”
      “It’s good to see young Lord Stratton back in town,” Hamilton commented. “A bit wild in his youth, but he appears to have settled down. Exceptionally capable. The earl’s left just about everything in his hands from what I’ve heard. An excellent catch, I would think. More than a few young ladies will have their eye on him.”
      “I don’t think they’ll have much of a chance,” Olivia murmured to him as she nodded her head first at Priscilla and then Stratton.
      The attraction between the two was almost palpable. As he herded his aunt and sister toward them they were waylaid by guests every few yards, but Stratton’s eyes rarely left Priscilla. And hers never left his.
      “I believe you have a point,” Hamilton returned. “Has he spoken to you of his intentions?”
      “No, but I expect he will very soon,” she said quietly.
      Once the party reached them, introductions were made and Mirabella, who was agog with excitement over seeing her old school friend, spent a great deal of time nodding her head excitedly as she monopolized the conversation. Her plumes swished this way and that and though Priscilla and Olivia weren’t tall enough to be in danger of having their faces slapped by the bobbing headdress, Cecelia and both men were side-stepping and ducking with every toss of Mirabella’s head. Priscilla watched the scene wondering how much longer she could go before the dam broke and she gave in to hysterical laughter.
      Mirabella appeared not to notice. “You simply must come over for tea,” she said to Olivia. “We’ve years to catch up on. How many years has it been? I’m sure I don’t know. I can’t imagine why we haven’t run into each other. Though, I honestly don’t visit London too frequently. It’s quite an adjustment for my little ones. They’re very sensitive you know. If you and Miss Hawthorn could come for tea, it would be just lovely.”
      “We would be delighted to visit.”
      “Oh, that’s marvelous.”
      After a few more minutes of torture, Cecelia let out a sneeze and Stratton broke into Mirabella’s chatter. “Cecelia, I see that Mary Beth and some of your other friends are here. Why don’t you go say hello to them?”
      Cecelia’s face beamed with gratitude as she curtsied and gratefully excused herself.
      Then he turned to Priscilla. “Might I have a word with you, Miss Hawthorn?”
      Her lips were quivering and her jaw absolutely ached with the need to laugh. “Of course, my lord.”
      He nodded his head slightly to the others. “If you would excuse us. I promise to return Miss Hawthorn in a few minutes.”
      She took his arm and he led her toward a set of French doors that opened onto a large balcony where a number of guests had gathered. Once outside he said, “I believe it’s safe, now.”
      She let out a breath and then gave into a fit of laughter. “Weren’t they supposed to burn that?” she choked out.
      “Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll need to take matters into my own hands. I’m considering lighting a small bonfire in the garden. Would you care to join me?”
      “You wouldn’t really burn it.”
      He took her hand and pulled her into the shadows at the far corner of the balcony. “Oh, but I would. She was threatening to have it made over for Cecelia.”
      Priscilla tried to visualize the pink headdress on his sister and shuddered. “How terrifying for Cecelia. I hope you talked your aunt out of it.”
      “We finally convinced her that feathers make Cecelia sneeze.”
      “The way she tossed those feathers about, I’m surprised you didn’t all have sneezing fits. How on earth did your aunt manage to get a hold of it? Do you suppose they put it back in the window?”
      “I don’t know, but I mean to find out." His words came out in a grumble. "The worst of it is, I’ve had to pay for the loathsome thing twice.”
      “Shocking. Positively shocking.” Laughter bubbled up inside her and she began giggling all over again.
      He shook his head in mock severity. “You are completely lacking in composure, Miss Hawthorn. Are you going to giggle all through dinner?” He paused. “But I think I know how to fix this.” He bent down and covered her mouth with a gentle kiss. The effect was instantaneous. She stopped laughing and melted into his embrace, inhaling his scent, luxuriating in the supple strength of the arms wrapped around her. It lasted only a very few seconds. She felt him tense and pull away. “It worked,” he murmured.
      For a moment she was quiet, trying to regain her senses, waiting for her heart to stop hammering against her chest. One minute she was fine, the next she was hanging on to him with no thoughts of her own.
      “It did,” she said in a breathless whisper. “But someone might see us. We aren’t the only ones out here.”
      “We’re well hidden in the shadows and no one else is paying the slightest bit of attention.”
      She peered around him toward the far end of the long balcony and was relieved to see that he spoke the truth. There were others enjoying the night air as well as their own agenda and none seemed aware of their presence.
      He held her chin with his thumb and forefinger and held her gaze. “Now, have you managed to compose yourself, Miss Hawthorn? Or do I need to silence you again?”
      Desire welled up inside her. She very much wanted to be silenced. It took all the self-control she could muster to say, "I believe I've managed to regain my composure.”
      "How disappointing." He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand but made no move to hold her. Then he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m happy to see you, tonight. I’ve had a dreadful day. You are, thus far, my only bright spot.”
      With considerable effort she spoke in a light teasing tone. “Has it been so terrible? Did the little dogs create havoc again?”
      “They did, but that isn’t the whole of it.”
      She tilted her head. “No? What other grave misfortune have you suffered today?”
      “I suppose it all began with a miserably frustrating ride in Hyde Park. I don’t know why I bother riding there. Rotten Row is the best it has to offer and even that isn’t the place when one needs a neck or nothing gallop and I badly needed a hard gallop this morning.”
      She opened her mouth to speak when he added, “Yes, I know. I should have gone to Richmond. I don’t know why I didn’t." He took her hands and pulled her further into the shadows. "Tell me, Miss Hawthorn. Do you ride?”
      She hadn't ridden since her brief stay with Patrick's family several months ago. Pushing that memory from her mind, she said, “Yes. But do go on. Tell me more about your day.”
      He groaned softly. “When I arrived home, my butler and valet were in the midst of chasing Aunt’s dogs who were in the midst of chasing a kitten. Due to my own lack of forethought, I ended up in the mix. I was brutally attacked by said kitten while surrounded by the pack of yapping vermin who did obey my commands up to a point but were still vastly annoying. And then I was outmaneuvered by a seventeen year old female who somehow talked me into letting her keep the kitten.” He paused to take in a breath. "I'm afraid it got worse.”
      Something in his tone had changed with that last sentence. She wasn't certain she wanted to hear his answer but couldn't seem to help herself. “How could it have possibly gotten worse?”
      He pressed his lips against her forehead. “One day I will tell you about it. I’m certain you will find it amusing. But until then, let’s just say that I spent a great deal of time wanting something I couldn’t have and that desire left me in a bad way.”
      Her cheeks grow hot and she was grateful for the cover the darkness gave them.
      “I believe I’ve made you blush,” he murmured.
      His words took her by surprise and she jerked her head up and looked at him. “You couldn’t possible see whether I’m blushing or not.”
      “I’ve found you blush very easily.” He ran his fingertips up the length of her silk gloves to the bare spot beneath her cap sleeves.
      Please stop,” she whispered as he caressed her bare skin with the pads of his thumbs.
      “You don’t like it?”
      “I like it far too much.” His very presence made her aware of her body in a way that she had never experienced with anyone else. Her pulse jumped, she felt the blood thrumming through her veins, a tension coiled between her legs. She swallowed, and her mind latched on to a subject she hoped might cool down this heated, consuming attraction between them. “Have you talked to Bertie?”
      “No, I haven’t.” He stopped abruptly and let out a heavy, broken sigh. “This is becoming quite unbearable, Priscilla. No matter what I say; no matter what I do to distract myself, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. And I want you all the time. It doesn’t stop. I haven't been able to make it stop.”
      The night sounds, the music, the murmured conversation around them, all stopped. The beating of her heart echoed in her ears. She was quiet a full half minute before she said, “I don’t know what to do.”
      “I’ll show you.”
      “That isn’t what I meant.”
      “Are you certain of that?” he asked.
      She didn't know what to say. “I’m not certain of anything where you’re concerned.”
      He dropped his hands to his side and took half a step back giving them both time to recover their wits. After a few moments he said, “I have a favor to ask of you. It’s for Cecelia, really.”
      Grateful for any change of topic, she said, “What is it?”
      “Cecelia’s come out ball is to be in a few weeks." His voice resumed its normal cadence. "Aunt Mirabella’s determined to make my sister wear something fit for a court jester. Would you be willing to lend your expertise and accompany Cecelia to the modiste if I promise to keep my aunt otherwise engaged? I want Cecelia to enjoy herself and I’m afraid Aunt Mirabella’s outlandish ideas make it difficult for her.”