Chapter 10 #2
“Lady Cameron.” Branford acknowledged her with a barely perceptible nod.
The lady ignored Alex and stepped closer to him.
“Lady Cameron, indeed!” she said in a low, throaty voice.
“Why, there’s no need to be so formal, Sebastian.
I do hope you will call at Grosvenor Square sometime very soon.
” She batted her lashes. “George is off on the Continent with Wellington again, and it can be very lonely if one’s special friends don’t come by to keep me company. ”
Branford bowed a fraction, which served to dislodge her hand from his shoulder. “How very rag-mannered of me,” he said pointedly. “I don’t believe you are acquainted with Miss Chilton.”
Lady Cameron raked Alex from head to toe with a gimlet gaze. “How delightful,” she said, her voice indicating it was anything but.
After a deliberate pause, she added, “I take it you are new in Town, Miss Chelson.” A sneer edged her tone as she deliberately mispronounced Alex’s name. “If you would like a recommendation for anything—such as a modiste who is acquainted with the current fashions— I should be happy to oblige.”
Alex gritted her teeth to avoid snapping an angry retort.
Without another glance at Alex, the lady turned her attention back to Branford. “Do not be a stranger. You know you are always welcome.” A pause. “Anytime.”
After a toss of her golden ringlets and one more playful tap of her costly fan, she moved gracefully towards the crowd milling around the punch bowl.
Alex had to stifle the urge to plant a well-aimed kick to the lady’s provocatively swaying derriere.
She closed her eyes for an instant. The mood of the evening had suddenly changed for her. The glittering lights of the myriad candles seemed too glaring … the scent of the roses too cloying … the notes of the violin too flat … the conversations too shrill.
“Are you feeling out of sorts this evening, Miss Chilton?” asked Branford softly
Alex was about to let fly with a scathing retort, but instead an entirely different set of words came tumbling out.
“Sometimes I wish I were more like … like Lady Cameron.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” growled Branford. “You are much too sensible to think such nonsense as that.”
Alex was stung by his words. “I know I have neither the beauty nor the seductive gowns, nor—"
“That’s not what I said,” snapped the earl.
Alex’s chin came up. “Perhaps I’m tired of being sensible. Someone like Lady Cameron has a certain charm—”
“She’s little more than a courtesan,” interrupted Branford. “She offers her charms quite
freely—”
“Obviously you speak from experience,” retorted Alex.
“That, Miss Chilton, is most certainly not a topic of conversation open to you.” warned Branford.
She looked away to compose her emotions. But to her consternation, she felt a stinging in her eyes.
“Forgive me, milord,” she said. “You are quite right. Your affairs are none of my concern.” Swallowing the lump she felt forming in her throat, Alex quickly added, “Now, would kindly return me to my friends. I’m promised to Mr. Duckleigh for the next set.”
Branford nodded, and offered her his arm. They made their way across the ballroom in stiff silence and parted without a further word.
Charles Duckleigh greeted her warmly, throwing a dagger-like look at the earl as Branford disappeared into the crowd.
“I wish,” he added in a low voice, “that you would not allow that blackguard to hover around you.”
“And I wish that everyone would cease advising me on what I should and should not do,” retorted Alex.
“I am heartily sick of it. I am neither an imbecile nor a child, Charles. At my age, I am perfectly capable of dealing with the Earl of Branford—or anyone else—without suffering any dire consequences.”
Her tone was perhaps sharper than she meant, for Charles reddened and began to stammer an apology. “Alex, I did not mean to imply …”
She laid a hand on his forearm. “Forgive me for shrieking at you like a harridan. I fear I have been rather … out of sorts this evening.”
Visibly relieved, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m sorry for oversetting you. It is only because …” He let his words trail off. “Umm, perhaps you would care to take a stroll out to the back garden instead of dancing?”
Alex nodded gratefully. In truth, she was in no mood to dance.
The cool evening air felt lovely after the confines of the crowded ballroom.
They strolled along a graveled path, admiring the lush plantings, which looked even more alluring in the silver wash of moonlight.
Alex was so intent on studying a particular bloom of freesia that she didn’t notice Charles had slipped his arm around her waist until he pulled her to a stop.
“Alex—or rather, my dear Alex, I should say. I fear I can no longer contain my feelings …”
Hell’s bells. It appeared the evening was going from bad to worse.
“Charles,” she said gently, disengaging his arm and turning to face him squarely.
“Please don’t interrupt me—else my courage may fail me!” he stammered.
“Oh, Charles,” she said in a rush, deciding it was kinder to cut him off. “You are a dear friend, but I should not suit you at all.”
He looked perplexed. “B-But why? I don’t understand.”
“I am too opinionated, too outspoken—”
“I am sure that you would learn to temper your feelings,” he interjected.
“I am sure that I would not,” she replied firmly. “I assure you, for a man in your position, who hopes to advance in the ministry, I would be a liability.”
That gave him pause to think. “But Alex, perhaps …”
“It is truly for the best,” she said.
“I …”
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Duckleigh to fall silent.
A gentleman appeared from around a boxwood hedge, his face wreathed in the pungent smoke from a cheroot.
Alex hastily took a step back from her companion as Branford exhaled slowly, forming perfect ‘O’s that drifted lazily away in the breeze as he regarded them.
“Is there a new country dance?” he inquired dryly. “One that entails a jaunt down a garden path?”
Charles stiffened. “I was just taking Alex—Miss Chilton— back to the ballroom. She was feeling a trifle … overheated.”
“Then you may take yourself off while she enjoys a last little interlude in the cooling breeze. I shall escort Miss Chilton back as soon as I have had a word with her.”
“I will not leave Miss Chilton out here in the dark alone—”
“She will not be alone,” pointed out the earl.
Charles stopped, nonplussed. “That is what I meant, sir. Alone with you.”
“You still seem a trifle confused. If she is with me, she will not be alone,” said Branford.
Charles was momentarily speechless, his face betraying a mixture of anger and consternation.
“That’s quite enough,” snapped Alex. “How dare either of you discuss me as if I ‘m some featherheaded widgeon incapable making up my own mind.”
Charles flushed while Branford’s mouth twitched up at the corners.
She caught the flicker of amusement and threw a black look at him before turning back to Duckleigh.
“Charles, you may return to the ballroom while I listen to what Lord Branford wishes to say. As a gentleman, he will naturally provide me with a proper escort back to my friends.”
Duckleigh clenched his hands into fists, but her words gave him no alternative but to agree. “If that is what you wish, Alex, then obviously I shall abide by your decision.” He inclined a formal bow, and after throwing one last glare at the earl, retreated with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Hmmph,” remarked Branford, casually blowing out another smoke ring. “Your friend has more gumption than I imagined.”
“His emotions are rather on edge tonight. And no doubt it didn’t help matters that you interrupted when he was making his declaration…”
Branford choked on a mouthful of smoke. “What!” he managed to sputter.
“I said, he was asking me to marry him when you—”
“That’s ridiculous!”
For the second time during the evening, Alex was stung by his words. “Oh—you think it impossible that someone would wish to marry me?”
“What I meant, Miss Chilton, is that—in my opinion—it would not be a fortuitous match.”
“Because Charles lacks a fortune, and I am plain?” she challenged
“Because he is in awe of you, and you would tire of it rather quickly.”
She was surprised by how astutely he had divined the very essence of why she had rejected Duckleigh. But in her current mood, there was no way she was going to acknowledge that.
“No, what you really meant was that you cannot conceive of a gentleman being attracted to anyone who does not have long lashes or a well-endowed …” She faltered, knowing she was being childish.
“You seem intent on deliberately misunderstanding me this evening,” said Branford softly.
He dropped his cheroot onto the gravel and ground out the glowing tip with the heel of his evening shoe.
“Perhaps it would be best if I take you back to your friends.” He lowered his gaze from her storm-dark expression to the ruffled bodice of her gown before looking up again.
“You have no reason to be jealous of Lady Cameron’s endowments. ”
“I am not jealous of Lady Cameron!”
He looked at her curiously for a moment before taking her arm. They walked in silence, the only sounds the crunching of their steps on the gravel, until they came to the steps of the terrace leading up to the french doors of the ballroom. The faint sound of conversation and music wafted out.
“By the by,” said Branford, drawing them to a halt. “Allow me to be the first to offer my congratulations.”
Alex looked at him as if he were speaking Hindi. “What are you talking about?”
“Your impending nuptials, Miss Chilton. I wish you happy.”
“Oh that.” She chuffed a sigh. “Of course I’m not marrying Charles.”
“Why not?”
Alex thought for a moment. “That, Lord Branford, is most certainly not a topic of conversation open to you.”
He made no reply but Alex thought she detected a ripple of laughter in his eyes as he led her back into the room to join her friends.
After escorting Alec back to her friends, Branford had no desire to linger in the gaiety and glitter of the ball. Making his way down to the street, he located his carriage among the crush of waiting conveyances—and waved it home without him.
In his current state of mind, Branford decided that he preferred a long walk.
If it were June, he thought ruefully, the evening’s crosscurrents of emotions might be written off— as Shakespeare had done—as the effects of Midsummer Night’s Eve.
But in truth, he had no better explanation for the odd way he was feeling.
Alex had been happy to see him, of that he was sure. He smiled briefly at the recollection of how her eyes had lit up with a mesmerizing mix of hazel and green sparks. It was damnably nice to have someone look at him that way, he mused …
But then her mood had quickly changed. What in the world had made her say such ludicrous things about her appearance. Surely she was far too sensible to be jealous of a piece of baggage like Lady Cameron …
He stopped abruptly in midstride.
Jealous?
Branford tapped his walking stick thoughtfully against his leg. Had she been upset by the fact that Lady Cameron had all but invited him into her bed?
He began walking again. He had to admit that the idea had rather intriguing connotations. But recalling her next words quickly dumped a bucket of ice water on such thoughts. She had made it quite clear that he—and his affairs—meant nothing to her.
The earl shook his head. Regardless of her feelings toward him, he sensed that something else had been bothering her. But he hadn’t a clue as to what it could be.
Turning up the collar of his coat, Branford quickened his steps … but found he couldn’t outrun his uncertainties.
At least Miss Cilton’s innate good sense had prevailed and she had rejected the presumptuous clerk. The pup was no match for her—in any regard.
Miss Chilton deserved … more.
But why should he care about her decisions?
Because they had become friends, and friends cared for the happiness of one another, he quickly told himself. He merely wanted to see her with the chance for real happiness. Ye gods, she deserved that, after all she had been through.
Another ghost of a smile came to his lips when he thought about how her parting words had thrown his own set-down back in his face!
Throughout all the trying circumstances of her upbringing, Miss Chilton had not lost her sharp wit and quick sense of humor.
Indeed, she was the only person besides Henry and Cecilia with whom he looked forward to conversing.
He would miss that, he supposed, if she married some dull dog like Duckleigh …
A dull dog who had the temerity to call her by her given name.
“Alex,” he whispered aloud.
He like the way it sounded on his own tongue. It would be nice to call her that.
Shaking off such strange reveries, Branford looked up and was surprised to see that he was nearly home.
But far from settling his thoughts, the walk had only kept his emotions on edge.
It was a novel experience, not having them under rigid control.
He found himself feeling the need of something—perhaps a large snifter of warming brandy.
Or perhaps a warm bed.
He realized with a start that he hadn’t been with a woman since … well, since he had met Miss Chilton. Mayhap that was why he was feeling so agitated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone so long without the pleasures of a female companion to warm his nights …
And yet, he had not the slightest desire to visit Lady Cameron—or any other lady for that matter.
He sighed, perplexed with himself.
A glass of brandy would have to do.