The Earl’s Forbidden Kiss (Lords of Lost Hearts #2)

Prologue

There he is.

Beatrice did her best not to make her notice of Lord Bradford less than apparent, even though her heart filled her with all manner of exciting, swirling emotions.

These last few weeks, Lord Bradford had been more than a little attentive – at least to her mind – but nothing of note had been said as yet.

“You must not stare, Beatrice!”

Turning her head away and feeling heat rising in her cheeks, Beatrice set her gaze to the floor. “I was not staring, Mother.”

With a quiet snort, Lady Warwickshire set one hand on Beatrice’s shoulder. “Whilst we may not be in London, I can assure you that there are many young ladies present this evening who are all too aware of Lord Bradford’s presence. Yourself included, it seems.”

Beatrice wanted to state that she had not noticed that particular gentleman and did not know what it was her mother was suggesting. But the sharp gleam in Lady Warwickshire’s eye told her it would be quite useless to deny it.

“The gentleman is unattached, yes, and has both an excellent fortune and high standing for one day; he will become the Earl of Surrey, as his father is now. I am sure that it is not just you and me who are aware of that, my dear Beatrice, for already he is nearly surrounded by many young ladies! Mayhap this Season, he too will make his way to London, where he will find even more of them eager for his company! He is very handsome indeed, and you ought not to set your hopes upon someone who could choose any young lady they desire.”

“And I do not think you should be so discouraging, Mother.”

Beatrice looked up at once, her heart lifting at the warmth in her brother’s voice.

He had taken on the title a little over eighteen months ago and had promised Beatrice that he would take her to London for the Season this coming year so she might make her come out – albeit a slightly belated one.

“I am sure mother does not mean to be,” she said, not wanting there to be any sort of disagreement between them.

“She speaks the truth about Lord Bradford, I am aware of that.”

“Ah, but she mayhap has not seen how he has favored you this winter,” came the reply, as Beatrice’s face flushed all over again.

“I have seen him dance with you many times at the different Christmas balls we have attended, and he has walked arm in arm with you on a few occasions as well, has he not?”

“I have taken note of all these things, my son.” Lady Warwickshire’s voice was a little clipped. “I am simply warning Beatrice to be careful. Gentlemen can, as I am sure you are aware, often tease and flirt with many young ladies without having any intention of pursuing a single one of them!”

“That is true,” he admitted as a cloud began to form over Beatrice’s heart, “but it may not be so with Lord Bradford. In this situation, one must simply wait and see, I suppose, for what else can be done? He will return to his estate in the new year, or so I have been told. It may be that something happens before then to show us the sort of gentleman he is.”

Beatrice clasped her hands together and kept her gaze away from Lord Bradford, hoping that her brother would not think to ask her about her own feelings at present.

Perhaps she had been foolish, then, to give so much of her thoughts and interest to Lord Bradford, given all that her brother and mother had just said.

“Good evening to you all!”

A familiar voice made Beatrice jump, her face growing hot all over again as she lifted her gaze to Lord Bradford. Surely, she hoped, he had not been able to hear any of their conversation!

“Good evening, Lord Bradford!” It was her mother who spoke first, her voice warm and filled with delight as if this was the very person she had been waiting to see. “How wonderful to see you again. I do hope you have enjoyed the last few days with your aunt and uncle – even with all the snow?”

Lord Bradford chuckled, his hazel eyes meeting Beatrice’s as she lifted her gaze to his, her heart lurching at the warmth that lingered there.

“The snow has been something of a concern to me, I must admit, for I feared that I would not be able to take my carriage out to this excellent evening, but much to my relief, I have not been waylaid by it.”

“That is good,” Beatrice’s brother said, with a smile of his own. “And do you intend to return home after Christmas Day, Lord Bradford?”

He nodded, but his eyes held to Beatrice’s as if she were the one who had asked the question.

“That is my intention. My father will, I hope, have returned from his business in London by then. He will stay with his sister in Mayfair over the Christmas period whilst I reside with my aunt and uncle – and enjoy all the festivities that they suggest I attend!” His eyes twinkled.

“Speaking of such things, might I ask if you are to dance this evening, Miss Williams?”

Sensing the sharp gaze of her mother landing upon her in an instant, Beatrice nodded and kept her eyes fixed on Lord Bradford. “Yes, I am.”

“Capital! I know there are no dance cards this evening, but might I take not only whatever this dance is now to be but also the very last dance of the night? You will have to remember that it is I who has asked you for it. I hope will not be too great a burden!”

The light smile on his face and the light in his eyes sent Beatrice’s heart soaring. “Yes, of course, Lord Bradford. I should be delighted.”

“Wonderful.” He opened his mouth to say more, only for the music to begin. “Ah, the country dance, I think. Shall we?”

Ignoring the broad smile on her brother’s face, Beatrice took Lord Bradford’s offered hand. “Thank you, Lord Bradford. Yes, let us dance.”

You must ignore your heart.

Trying to recall all that her mother had warned her about, Beatrice continued with what was now her second dance of the evening with Lord Bradford.

They said nothing, waltzing together as the music swirled around the room.

The ball was a simple affair, put on by one of the local gentry, but Beatrice delighted in every moment of it.

She had not yet been granted permission for the waltz, but her brother had waved that concern away, telling her that they were not in London as yet and that, therefore, it did not matter what she danced here.

“Might I ask if you are to make your way to London this Season, Miss Williams?”

She looked up at him, his dark hair brushing lightly across his forehead, his eyes keen. “Yes, that is my intention. I was not able to make my come out last Season, due to the passing of my father. We were in the midst of our mourning period.”

His smile faded. “I am sorry to hear that. It must have been very difficult indeed.”

“It was,” Beatrice admitted, having no sense of hiding the truth of her heart from him.

“My mother has been very strong indeed, however, and my brother has taken to the title admirably well.” Her lips curved for just a moment, recalling their joy the previous Christmas, when they had all been together for the festive Season.

There had been no hint of illness back then, no whisper that things would not continue as they had done for so long.

“But now we must look to the future, I suppose. Life cannot be held under a shroud of mourning for the rest of our days.”

“Indeed not,” Lord Bradford agreed, quietly. “Miss Williams, I wonder if I might – ”

Beatrice frowned, wondering why his steps had slowed, why they were no longer moving in time with the music, only to see Lord Bradford lift his head.

With a smile on his face, he released her hand, reached up, and plucked one mistletoe berry from the bough above them, making Beatrice’s heart slam into her chest, anticipation thundering in her veins.

Then, to her surprise, he placed the berry into his pocket, took her hand again, and continued to dance.

Beatrice’s heart slowed as she kept her steps in time with the music, her disappointment overwhelming.

He had taken a berry, yes, but he had been meant to kiss her, right there and then.

Instead, he had put the berry in his pocket and continued to dance!

Why had he done such a thing? Her eyes closed briefly as the music began to come to an end, slowing down little by little as their time together drew to a close.

“Forgive my boldness, Miss Williams.”

She frowned, opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but there was no time.

In an instant, he had released her waist but kept his other hand in hers, tugging her away from the other dancers, away from the guests, and towards a door.

A door that Beatrice, caught in confusion and now excitement, permitted herself to be pulled through.

Once in the darkened hallway, Lord Bradford turned to face her, his breathing quick and matching her own.

“This is most inappropriate,” he said, hurriedly, as if there were very little time for him to speak. “I will not force you to stay here, Miss Williams. It is only that I thought… well, I do have this.”

Beatrice’s eyes flared as he took the mistletoe berry from his pocket and held it up between them. Usually, a gentleman took a kiss from the lady he was dancing with right there and then, but Lord Bradford, it seemed, had desired to take it somewhere a little more private.

“You can refuse me,” he said, his voice soft, his nearness tempting her. “I will not hold you here, Miss Williams. The door is just there, and I shall not bar you from it, even when everything within me longs for you to linger.”

Longs for you to linger? The sweetness of his words was astonishing to her, making her heart leap up with a sudden, furious hope. “I – I will not depart from you, Lord Bradford.”