Chapter One #2
This year, he would try. And Christine, the mischievous imp, had warned that if he did not find a suitable new wife, she would find one for him.
He already knew she had her eye on her governess, Miss Grant, as a potential candidate.
Her desire to be a matchmaker amused him.
In many ways, she reminded him of Amelia Andrews.
He’d never met a young woman who talked so much. Even when Miss Andrews had been invisibly chained to her chaperone, her mouth had continued without ceasing. He suspected that if one put a potted plant before her, she would talk it to death.
As he went to get a glass of lemonade, he saw her speaking to a group of young ladies. Her gown was a vivid yellow, like a daffodil. The color suited her, transforming her into a splash of joy amid an otherwise dismal evening.
She was not at all a woman he could marry—far too young at the age of twenty.
Or perhaps one-and-twenty, for all he knew.
Yet it didn’t mean he wasn’t entertained by her.
Her earlier suggestion, to help him find a proper wife, wasn’t a bad idea after all.
Amelia Andrews was popular among the young ladies, and she could easily discern who would suit him and who would not.
It might be worth paying a call upon Miss Andrews to find out which ladies would be the strongest possibilities.
His requirements were fairly straightforward. He wanted someone of a pleasant personality, someone who liked children and would get along with his daughter. And most of all, someone who would not expect him to love her.
He’d already loved one woman and lost her. Never would he go through that again. This time, he wanted a companion and a friend—nothing more.
Against the far end of the room, David spied Miss Andrews’s prey—Charles Newport, the Viscount Lisford.
David wasn’t alone in his vast dislike of the man.
Lisford was a known rake who flirted with anyone wearing skirts.
Not a word he spoke could be trusted, and the man desperately needed an heiress to save him from drowning in debt.
Amelia wasn’t at all the sort of woman the viscount would marry; he’d already spurned her older sister Margaret. But Lisford wouldn’t hesitate to use Amelia if it would further his own causes.
David set down his glass of lemonade and made his way toward the viscount. He wasn’t alone when he spied Margaret Andrews moving in the same direction. She paused a moment and nodded to him, for they had been formally introduced in the past.
“Miss Andrews.” He bowed in greeting.
“Lord Castledon.” Even though she maintained courtesy, he could tell that she was distracted by Amelia.
“Is something the matter?” he inquired. “You look as if you want to murder your younger sister.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Margaret said beneath her breath. “She won’t listen to me when I tell her that man is up to no good.”
David shrugged. “She did say that he was dangerous and…what was it? Delicious, I believe she said.”
“If she dares to throw herself at Lord Lisford, she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.
” Margaret gripped her hands together, watching Amelia standing near the viscount.
“He’s nothing but a blackguard.” Her face was twisted with more than sisterly worry.
There was bitterness, too, of a woman set aside.
“Perhaps you’d rather murder him, then,” he suggested. “Except that it would leave a lot of blood on Lady Rumford’s floor.” He knew that the elder Miss Andrews had once been engaged to the viscount. Everyone knew of her humiliation, which was yet another reason to dislike the man.
“I am Amelia’s chaperone,” she added. “Which, I suppose, gives me the right to drag her away, if she won’t listen.”
“Would you allow me to intervene?” he asked. “I may be able to assist.” Though he ought not to get involved, he understood her concern.
Margaret stopped a moment, and her eyes held relief. “Could you? She doesn’t understand that I only want to protect her.” A flush of embarrassment crossed her face, followed by the hardened determination he recognized.
David bowed and nodded. “Allow me.” He wasn’t entirely certain how he would distract Miss Andrews, but perhaps there was a way.
He continued toward the viscount, noting the man’s circle of female admirers. When he approached, Lisford greeted him, “Castledon! Good to see you, my friend.” Although his voice was jovial, the man’s gaze turned guarded.
David inclined his head, though he didn’t repeat the sentiment. Quite frankly, he had little respect for the viscount. Thinking fast, he said, “Forgive me for interrupting, but Miss Amelia Andrews has promised the next dancing set to me.”
Amelia turned to face him in startled shock, already shaking her head in refusal. He sent her a warning look, but she was clearly choosing to ignore him.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my good man,” the viscount insisted.
“For she already promised it to me.” He took Amelia’s hand, and from the blush on her face, she was falling hard beneath his spell.
She didn’t see the reality of Lisford’s intentions, nor did she seem to care.
The other women dissipated among the crowd, leaving David to feel like a fool for even trying to draw Amelia away.
She held the devil’s hand while the other couples lined up for the dancing. The excitement in her eyes revealed a young woman’s dream that the viscount would fall in love and marry her.
Nothing could be further from the truth. A man like Lisford would seduce and ruin her, nothing more.
Go and warn her, his conscience urged. Join the dancers and use the moment to speak to her again.
But then, David hated dancing. Hated it. He’d learned how as a boy and had endured it only because Katherine had enjoyed it. Now, he would sooner set himself on fire than willingly join a set.
But when he saw the viscount’s gaze linger upon Amelia’s bosom, his hand sliding down her spine, something snapped within him. This man wanted to use an innocent girl and then cast her aside. Amelia didn’t need that sort of heartache.
Margaret walked up beside him, her eyes upon the dancing. “I thought you said you were going to stop her.”
“She has a mind of her own,” David countered. “But I suppose we can try another approach.”
He offered her his arm, and Margaret hesitated. “If I dance with you, I might end up as Lisford’s partner.”
“It’s possible,” David agreed. “Likely, even.”
Her stern face held the look of a woman who hadn’t at all forgiven the man for what he’d done. “I don’t want my sister to endure what I did. I know that I’m a spinster now and likely won’t ever marry anyone. But I can’t stand aside and let him hurt her in that way.”
David agreed with Margaret on that point.
“Shall we?” She put her arm in his, and they waited to join the next dance.
He repressed a groan when he learned it was to be a cotillion.
Though it would indeed involve switching partners frequently, it wasn’t a dance that he remembered too well.
From the moment he and Margaret paired up, he spied a gleam of interest on Amelia’s face.
He managed to stumble his way through the steps until he finally partnered with her.
“I see you did find someone to dance with,” she remarked. “But I don’t know what you were thinking, claiming that I promised you a dance. It was Margaret’s doing, wasn’t it?”
Not entirely, but he didn’t say so. “Your sister was worried about you.”
Annoyance tightened her expression. “Margaret should worry about finding her own husband instead of interfering with me.”
“Perhaps she’s trying to spare you from the man who broke her heart.”
Amelia sobered, just as they switched partners.
He left her to mull it over and saw the guilty expression upon her face when she crossed paths with her sister.
David was forced to concentrate on the steps he’d forgotten until once again he was paired with Amelia.
“I don’t mean to spoil your dreams, but think of me as the older brother looking out for you. ”
“You’re nothing like an older brother,” Amelia interjected. When he was about to argue with her, she continued, “An older uncle, perhaps.”
“I’m not that ancient, Miss Andrews.” Even so, he saw the mischief in her eyes.
“You might need a cane, soon enough. Or an ear trumpet.”
Insolent wretch. And in spite of himself, he smiled.
“Stop trying to change the subject. Men like Lord Lisford, who flirt with every woman, will continue to do so even after they marry. He won’t remain faithful.
” Whomever the viscount ended up marrying would no doubt be humiliated by a string of Lisford’s paramours.
“Unless he’s besotted with his wife,” Amelia pointed out. “The way you were with yours.”
They switched partners again, and her remark pushed back at the memories David didn’t want to face.
He stumbled a moment, thinking of Katherine.
He had been besotted with her, and the fog of melancholy descended once more.
He spoke a little to Margaret, but there wasn’t much to say.
While he agreed with her assessment of Lord Lisford, Amelia would make her own choices.
When he partnered with her one last time, he squeezed her gloved hand tighter.
“Have a care, Miss Andrews. Lord Lisford is indeed a dangerous man, as you said.” He didn’t want her believing that she could reform a man who lived a bacchanalian life, seeking pleasure wherever he could find it.
From the dark look in Amelia’s green eyes, he could see that he’d offended her. She wanted to believe that Viscount Lisford would care enough about her to put aside his past. “I can take care of myself,” she pointed out. “You needn’t concern yourself with me.”