Heart of a Scoundrel (Handful of Hearts Book 4) Read online

  “Afraid you won’t see her here or anywhere else for the rest of the Season, old chap.” A grin stretching across his face, Eric beamed as though offering the best news possible. “Heard it from my mother this morning. Her grandmother cocked up her toes yesterday. Whole family’s gone off to Norwich.”

  “Damnation.” Richard swore under his breath. He’d been sure he’d make his final conquest tonight. Time was running out.

  “I say, were you serious, Richard?”

  “As a parson in church. Lady Eleanor would have been my final conquest. She’d agreed to give me the supper dance, and I would’ve made the most of it. I’d have seen my stable started within the month.” He shook his head. “I’ve been haunting Tattersall’s the past three weeks eyeing the cattle. Broke my heart to have to let some beautiful steppers go by.” Why was it the best horseflesh always appeared when he was out of funds? If the wager had already been won, he could have had his pick and sent Father the bill. “And if I don’t secure Lady Eleanor’s declaration, I have to start again, and time is fleeting. The settlements are due to be drawn up next week.”

  “You’ve already wooed and abandoned two ladies? I don’t believe it.” Eric sniffed. “I would’ve heard such a thing if it were true.”

  “Do you think these ladies are going to admit to anyone that they’d fallen into a violent passion for me only to be spurned?” Chuckling, Richard opened the French windows, letting in blessedly cool, rose-scented air. The crush of so many bodies generated enough heat to rival a smithy’s forge. “I convinced them to write to me under the pretext of thanking me for an enormous bouquet of flowers. Lady Caroline Smythe-Canning’s penmanship is excellent, I can tell you. However, Miss Winston wants some skill with a pen. I can just make out that she adores my firm jaw and intelligent eyes and hopes I will not wait long to inform her papa of my intentions.”

  “Why are they writing you such things?” Frowning, Eric snared a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “Their mothers must be quite lax.”

  “I daresay the thought of their daughters marrying the heir of a marquess made them so.” A smile flitted across Richard’s lips then he sobered. He had no time to waste in choosing another lady. “So who else can I dupe so quickly?”

  “Lady Anne Flyte, perhaps? She’s a bit stricken in years.”

  “God, no. She’d plant me a facer if I did more than speak to her. Bit of a run-in three years ago. She’s since taken me in dislike.” The girl should’ve been flattered he’d wanted to steal a kiss from her, not become incensed.

  “Miss Grantly?”

  Suppressing a shudder, Richard turned away from his friend. “Please, Eric. Must you suggest every woman so long in the tooth she has fangs? I didn’t think Miss Grantly was even here this year. Does one really have a fourth Season?”

  “She was at Almack’s last week, so I assume it is possible.” Nodding to an acquaintance, Eric turned back toward the dance floor then stood still. “I say, Richard. I think your dilemma may be over.” He nodded toward their hostess.

  Lady Hamilton was indeed approaching him and Eric, arm in arm with a young woman he didn’t know. A very pretty young woman in a pink sprigged gown, her golden blond hair swept up into a crown on top of her head, held fast with glittering pins. His stomach clenched suddenly, and his mouth went dry.

  “Lord Somersby, Mr. Conroy.” Lady Hamilton’s lyrical voice fell pleasantly on the ear. “The very gentlemen I seek.” She beamed down at the lady in pink. “Miss Sharpe, may I introduce Lord Somersby and Mr. Conroy? Lord Somersby is the son of Lord Thaxted and Mr. Conroy of one of my dearest friends, Lady Marbury. Gentlemen, I’d hoped—”

  “How do you do?” Bowing deeply, Richard couldn’t help but smile at the look of awe on the young lady’s face. “I hope you are enjoying yourself this evening, Miss Sharpe?”

  “Oh, yes, my lord.” Miss Sharpe’s bright blue eyes quite sparkled in the candlelight.

  So much the better.

  “How do you do, Miss Sharpe?” Eric thrust himself into the conversation.

  “Very well indeed, Mr. Conroy. Lady Hamilton promised to introduce me to many of her friends tonight.”

  “Miss Sharpe is new to Town, so I trust you gentlemen will take care she has a partner for the next set?” Her ladyship looked pointedly at Eric.

  Subtly shifting forward, shutting out the girl’s clear view of Eric, Richard gazed warmly into her eyes. “It would be my greatest honor, Miss Sharpe, if you would dance the next set with me.”

  God, and Lady Hamilton, had just given him the means to win his wager.

  Chapter 2

  Amanda’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, beating so fast she thought it would fly away. She would never have believed she would be standing here, introduced to two gentlemen, one of them a lord. It was every girl in Wellesbourne’s dream, like Cinderella, to come to a ball and meet a prince. Well, not a prince, but a gentleman with a title at least. She’d be pinching herself all night to make certain she wasn’t asleep in her bed at home, dreaming these fantastical things.

  Jerking her attention back to the tall, blond gentleman, she smiled until she thought her cheeks would crack. Lord Somersby had asked her to dance. She must pay attention. “Thank you, my lord. I would love to dance with you.”

  With a dazzling smile that showed even white teeth, Lord Somersby bowed to her. When he straightened, he offered her his arm. The other gentleman’s tongue must have tied itself in knots, because he just stood gaping as Lord Somersby led her toward the dance floor.

  “You must forgive my friend, Miss Sharpe. Mr. Conroy can become a bit tongue-tied in the presence of great beauty.” Gazing down at her, the handsome lord made Amanda tingle all the way to her toes. “Fortunately, I’m able to express my thoughts on the matter, even though you could very well render anyone speechless.”

  Heat crept into her cheeks and she wished for a fan to cool them. Lord Somersby had more than a little of the blarney about him, it seemed. She was more than one and twenty years old and had never been described a beauty, even in her first bloom of youth. Every morning she saw herself in the mirror; she had no illusions there. A plain, straight nose that was rather short, with an unfortunate dusting of freckles on it. Long blond hair that had taken the maid forever to curl before she’d got it swept up on top of her head. A round face with intense blue eyes, though her lashes were pale and sparse.

  She’d not thought much of her appearance while at Wellesbourne, but now, for the first time in a long time, could she dare hope the gentleman truly found her looks favorable? At least the new pink silk gown with the frothy lace at neck and sleeves heightened her creamy complexion, her best feature.

  Amanda drew her shoulders back as they arrived on the dance floor, just as the set was making. “You are very good to stand up with me, Lord Somersby, having just been introduced,” she said, taking her position opposite him.

  “I would be a fool not to wish to partner the loveliest young woman in the room.” Lord Somersby’s dark blue eyes gleamed their approval. “No matter how short our acquaintance.”

  The music for “Mutual Love” began, and Amanda curtsied to her partner, who then took the hand of the gentleman next to him and began the dance by circling around the two ladies. She couldn’t help but laugh at a man leading a man. It seemed quite silly to her, but then she’d not had much practice dancing out in Society. She’d learned a few dances with some of the village girls when she was younger, but only recently had Mrs. Doyle engaged a dancing master for her lessons.

  Her partner came back to his place, they turned, and then the second lady led her around as the gentlemen had. Amanda couldn’t help smiling. Everything was so bright and gay. She was actually here, at a ball, dancing with a very handsome gentleman, finally part of the glittering world of the ton. As the couples executed first a right-hand star then a left-hand one, she caught Lord Somersby’s eye, and he grinned back at her. Such an amiable gentleman.

  As the numb
er one couple, they cast off around the twos, who then advanced to the group of dancers above them, leaving her and Lord Somersby alone at the bottom of the set.

  “You are an excellent dancer, Lord Somersby. I feel quite free to allow you to take over the steps completely. I could follow you anywhere.” She hoped it was not too forward to say such things. Always one to speak her mind, Amanda had been warned first by her father and again by Mrs. Doyle that correct young ladies did not advance their opinions so freely. However, she’d been nervous about tripping or stepping on someone’s foot on this first public foray into social dancing and her relief at Lord Somersby’s expertise had possibly led her into a social blunder.

  “With such a partner, how could I falter, Miss Sharpe?” His deep voice sounded pleasantly in her ears. “I’ve never danced with a lady so attuned to my every movement.”

  “You are most kind.” Casting her gaze downward, she fought for some topic of conversation other than the dance. Why must she suddenly be struck dumb?

  “In fact, as I find you so desirous a partner, dare I ask if you’re already engaged for the supper dance?” Seizing her hand, he led them back into the dance, now as the number two couple.

  Head spinning, Amanda barely knew what she was doing as they turned and performed the right- and left-hand stars. The only thought buzzing in her head was that he wanted to dance with her again. Seizing the opportunity as they clasped hands and moved into another set, she spoke in what she hoped was a casual manner. “No, my lord. I do not have a partner for that dance.”

  A sly smile spread over his face and when next they turned, he leaned forward and whispered, “Then I beg to claim it from you now.”

  The joy his words incited in her made her steps skip even sprightlier. “Indeed, Lord Somersby, I do grant it to you.”

  “My gracious thanks, Miss Sharpe. You have made me a happy man.”

  The remainder of “Mutual Love” flew by in a daze for Amanda. Why she should be so overwhelmed that a polite gentleman had asked her to dance twice, she couldn’t fathom. Certainly, this was a normal occurrence in the ton. Of course, it might be because he was the handsomest, most graceful gentleman of her acquaintance. And a lord. Yes, that fact alone was enough to astound her. Though there was perhaps something else about Lord Somersby that called to her as well. Was it a sadness lurking behind his dark eyes? If so, she hoped she could help soothe it in some way, to repay him for his kindnesses to her.

  At last, though much too quickly for her tastes, Amanda curtsied to her partner, and he led her from the floor. Her spirits dipped a little for they must part now…although, she could ask him to escort her to Mrs. Doyle and suggest a less than direct route.

  “It is such a pity that we cannot dance again this evening until the supper dance,” he said, winding her arm through his. “I believe I shall retire to the card room and await our next meeting. I do not think any other partner would satisfy me now that I have danced with you, Miss Sharpe.”

  “You are too kind, my lord.” Even if he was just being polite, the thrill his words sent down her spine went all the way to her toes tucked into the pale pink slippers. Her first sally into the whirl of the ton would be most memorable. Even more memorable if she could steal a few more minutes with Lord Somersby now. “I would not want to keep you, my lord, but I wondered if you might… take me out for a breath of air? The room seems particularly warm after the dance.”

  His eyes widened and an eager grin spread across his face. “A delightful idea, Miss Sharpe. You are correct, of course. The dancing has indeed heated the room indecently.” He steered them toward a set of French windows that led out to a small porch overlooking the back garden.

  Cool air brushed Amanda’s hot cheeks and she drew in delicious breaths. “This is quite lovely, Lord Somersby.”

  “As are you, Miss Sharpe.”

  “Oh, thank you.” So much for cooling off. Her cheeks caught fire, and she plied her fan a bit too vigorously, but it did help assuage the burn. What topic of polite conversation might she employ to keep him here a few more minutes? Weather? Horses? He’d mentioned he was going to the card room. “I promise not to keep you from your game long. You enjoy the play, Lord Somersby?”

  “I do, Miss Sharpe. Do you?”

  Smiling at the mere thought of sitting down to a game of cards, Amanda ceased to fan herself and looked eagerly into his face. “I do as well, my lord. I play whenever I have the chance in Wellesbourne, infrequent though it is. I find developing a strategy for each hand particularly stimulating. I would play every day if I could.”

  “It is a skill few young ladies take seriously, it seems. At least with those who have partnered me in the past.” He peered into her face. “You, however, would be different in that respect, I believe.”

  “I assure you I would, my lord. My mother taught me the different card games, but my father instilled in me a desire to be the best.” How anyone would not work to sharpen their skills so they could win at cards had always confounded her. “Why play at all if not to win?”

  “My sentiments exactly, Miss Sharpe.” His smile warmed, making her heart race. “I always play to win.” He took her hands, his heat seeping through her gloves. “I hope at some point during the Season, we will be able to play together.”

  “It is a shame ladies are not allowed to engage in card games. At least not at such an entertainment as this. As I dearly love to play, Mrs. Doyle has arranged…” The most wonderful idea struck Amanda so suddenly she couldn’t speak. Of course, what a splendid opportunity! Gazing into Lord Somersby’s face, she struggled to form words once more. “If… If you would be so kind as to take me to Mrs. Doyle, I would be very grateful, my lord.”

  “Your every wish, Miss Sharpe.” He led her back into the ballroom then steered them around various groups of guests, maneuvering them quickly to her chaperone.

  “Mrs. Doyle, may I present Lord Somersby? Lady Hamilton introduced us earlier. My lord, Mrs. Doyle is my sponsor. I am residing with her during the Season.”

  The lady curtseyed, the towering green egret feathers in her turban bobbing. Her sharp gaze took him in and her mouth pursed. “Good evening, my lord.”

  “Mrs. Doyle, I am delighted.” Lord Somersby bowed crisply, a pleasant smile on his face.

  “Mrs. Doyle, would it be possible to invite Lord Somersby to our evening of cards on Monday? He would be a splendid addition to our guest list, do you not think?” Amanda widened her eyes, hoping she looked sufficiently innocent. It was terribly gauche to ask such a thing while the gentleman stood right in front of her chaperone, for how then could she say no? Which, of course, was exactly why she’d done it.

  “I believe we can find room for one more name on the guest list.” Mrs. Doyle’s voice sounded affable, but she cut her eyes at Amanda.

  Oh, yes, there would be the devil to pay for this little social transgression. Not that she particularly cared.

  “Please do join us, Lord Somersby. Monday night at eight o’clock for cards and supper.” Mrs. Doyle forced a smile. “You will be quite welcome.”

  “Thank you for that gracious invitation, Mrs. Doyle. I would be delighted to attend if it means seeing Miss Sharpe once more.” Turning to Amanda, he bowed over her hand, his lips brushing the space just above her gloved knuckles. “I shall look forward to partnering you in cards on Monday. If you are half as good at whist as you are at dancing, I daresay we shall triumph over the whole evening.”

  Mrs. Doyle opened her pursed lips, but Amanda leaped in before the woman could speak. “I am certain that can be arranged, Lord Somersby. You see, this entertainment was designed specifically to aid me in fostering acquaintanceships for the Season. I cannot imagine that your acquaintance would not be of benefit to me.” She shot a look at Mrs. Doyle. Please, please, she begged.

  “Well, I will consult my numbers and seating, Miss Sharpe.” Eying Somersby, she sighed. “If I can partner you with dear Miss Sharpe at least once, I will do so. She’s extremely s
killed in cards and will be much sought after as a partner.”

  “Thank you again, Mrs. Doyle.” Though he spoke deferentially to the older woman, his gaze strayed back to Amanda. “I will look forward to it with great anticipation. As I will to our next dance.” He bowed. “Mrs. Doyle, Miss Sharpe.” With an elegant turn, he strode away toward the doorway that led to the rest of the house.

  Amanda allowed herself one long, lingering look at the elegant gentleman in the excellently cut black coat before recalling herself to her disgruntled chaperone.

  “Miss Sharpe, please come with me.” Mrs. Doyle’s cheeks were pinker than when the evening had begun, and her eyes bored into Amanda with the precision of a well-placed sword thrust. “I find the need for an earnest conversation that would best be accomplished away from prying eyes or eavesdroppers. This way.” The lady took herself off, up a small staircase, toward the site of the ladies’ retiring room on the second floor.

  With a sigh, Amanda followed. This scolding would not be pleasant, but at least she’d secured Lord Somersby’s invitation, and that made it worthwhile. Trudging behind Mrs. Doyle, she glanced over the railing at all the beautiful young ladies laughing and dancing and made up her mind to listen to her chaperone and agree that her headstrong behavior had been wrong. Not that she actually believed it had been. Amanda made decisions every day while running her father’s household. A very different position than the other girls, who hadn’t had that experience yet and would likely not have dared to break the rules. She’d found early on that in order to get what you wanted or needed, you sometimes had to take risks. Men did it all the time. Why couldn’t ladies as well?

  They arrived at the spacious retiring room, set up for the ladies’ comfort, to find it half-filled with women having their maids fix hair that had begun to straggle in the heat of dancing, or mend a gown that had torn when their partner had inadvertently stepped on a hem. Others stood about chatting, likely grateful to have a moment not on parade before all the ton.