To Bed a Beaty

“They are friends, your grace. Haviland is their closest neighbor.”

“So I was told,” Drew said, feigning indifference.

After the set ended, though, he made it a point to seek out Haviland and renew their slight acquaintance.

Following an interval of small talk where Drew learned more about the earl’s background and family circumstances, Haviland asked how he was enjoying the celebrations.

“Well enough,” Drew replied, “given that I generally loathe weddings.”

Haviland grinned. “I understand the sentiment. I always feel as if my cravat is too tight. Gatherings such as this are not my forte, either, particularly since I came into the title. It’s rather unnerving, facing packs of young ladies and their mamas on the prowl, eyeing me as if I were their matrimonial prey.”

It was Drew’s turn to grin, since he fully appreciated the earl’s situation. A wealthy peer who still possessed his hair and teeth and faculties was a grand prize on the Marriage Mart.

When he suggested they leave the ballroom and repair to one of the cardrooms, however, Haviland expressed regret that he had a prior commitment. “I have an engagement in London later this evening that I cannot miss, but I would be pleased to take you on some other time…perhaps at Brooks?”

Drew agreed they should meet at the gentleman’s club in London sometime in the near future. He was surprised to discover that he liked Haviland, which was probably why a short while later, he paid attention when he saw the earl take his leave of Arabella and Marcus and then exit through the French doors at the rear of the ballroom. Since Haviland lived a short distance from Danvers Hall, Drew supposed he planned to walk home across the estate grounds rather than take the trouble of hailing his carriage.

But when Drew saw the familiar figure of Roslyn Loring slip out the doors immediately afterward, he felt his jaw harden reflexively. Wondering at her intent, he found his footsteps carrying him to the nearest entrance, which offered a side view of the terrace overlooking the gardens. There he hesitated, watching.

Haviland had paused to wait for Roslyn, and when she reached him, she stood gazing up at him, making a breathtaking picture. The sun was setting, turning her hair to gold flame and illuminating her ivory complexion with an ethereal glow.

Drew felt his breath falter at the stunning sight. If Haviland was half a man, he would be just as bowled over, Drew knew. And if he were half a gentleman, he would leave before interrupting a romantic tryst.

Yet he couldn’t force himself to turn away. Instead his gaze remained riveted on Roslyn Loring as she offered her lovely smile to another man.

A trifle breathless from hurrying by the time she caught up to Lord Haviland, Roslyn was pleased when the earl turned and flashed her a welcome smile.

“I looked for you to say farewell, Miss Roslyn, but I was unable to find you.”

“Regrettably I had another matter with the staff to attend to.”

“Please accept my compliments on an enjoyable evening,” he said with a formal politeness worthy of his new rank as he bowed over her hand. “Organizing such a large celebration must have been difficult.”

To her chagrin, Roslyn felt herself blushing. “The size was a little challenging,” she began, then abruptly chastised herself for sounding inane. It was absurd how she sometimes grew tongue-tied around Haviland, no doubt because she was so eager to make a good impression. “I am glad you came today, my lord.”

“So am I. And I regret that I must leave so early, but I must be in London within the hour.”

Roslyn found herself regretting that he released her hand. “Your relatives expect you tonight, I believe you said.”

Haviland’s grimace held rueful amusement. “Lamentably, yes. My grandmother is holding a poetry reading and has requested my appearance. I would rather swallow a flaming sword than be subjected to her notion of entertainment-pedagogues and literary pretenders reciting bad poetry-but I feel obliged to attend.”

“Perhaps it will turn out better than you anticipate.”

“It will likely be pure torture.” He hesitated, surveying her thoughtfully. “You don’t find these social functions painful, obviously, so perhaps you might help me. You know that I am holding a ball of my own next week?”

“Yes, my sisters and I received your invitation.”

“Might you be willing to advise me in hosting mine? The denizens of the ton-particularly my august relations-will be expecting a disaster, and I would very much like to prove them wrong.”

“I would be happy to help, my lord.”

“Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss it, then?”

“Yes, if we can arrange it for the afternoon. Arabella and Marcus will have left on their wedding trip by then.”

“Very well, I will call upon you at three o’clock, if that’s agreeable.”

“Very agreeable, my lord.”

“Until then, Miss Roslyn,” Haviland said with another bow.

She watched, smiling, as he turned away and descended the terrace steps two at a time, heading toward his own nearby manor.

Roslyn felt like hugging herself. She wanted very much to help the rebel Lord Haviland prove his detractors wrong. Yet she was just as pleased to have the opportunity to spend more time with him, since she hoped to show him that she could make him an ideal wife.

She was still smiling when she turned back to the house, but her footsteps faltered when she happened to glance toward the side entrance door. The Duke of Arden stood there in the shadows, one shoulder casually propped against the lintel.

Her smile fading, Roslyn halted. “How long have you been lurking there, your grace?”

“Long enough to observe your encounter with Haviland. I saw you follow him and was curious to know if you intended an assignation.”

Her chin came up. “Has no one ever told you it isn’t gentlemanly to eavesdrop on a lady?”

“Has no one told you it isn’t ladylike to chase after a gentleman?” Stepping out of the shadows toward her, Arden made a tsking sound. “Such forward behavior. I expected better of you, Miss Roslyn.”

She could see the gleam of sardonic amusement in his green eyes and had to bite back a retort. Even though she longed to set the duke back on his heels, she managed a sweet smile instead. “If you overheard our conversation, then you know there was no assignation. I merely wished to say farewell to a friend before he left for the evening.”

“Haviland looks to be more than a friend to you.”

“He is also our nearest neighbor, and a man I respect and admire,” she said coolly, although why she felt she had to defend herself to this provoking nobleman, Roslyn had no idea.

“And you mean to aid him in hosting his upcoming ball?”

“Of course.” When Arden moved closer, she thought of retreating a step, but she held her ground. “If I can use my particular talents to advise him, I will. When he was younger, Haviland left home in search of adventure and was never forgiven by his family. Since returning, he has not been well received in their elite circles, but he’s attempting to rectify matters and fulfill the obligations of his new title.”

“You seem eager to attract his goodwill,” Arden mused.

“Perhaps I am,” Roslyn said lightly, “but what of it? My affairs really are not your concern, your grace.”

“Except for the matter of your conduct a fortnight ago,” he drawled. “I am still waiting for an explanation.”

The duke’s sharper tone made Roslyn recall his threat to tell Marcus about her impropriety.

“Ordinarily,” Arden continued, “your indiscretions would not concern me, but in this case, there would have been the devil to pay had we been discovered together. I might have been obliged to marry you to make amends.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed in understanding. “Is that why you are so vexed with me? Because you feared the repercussions if we were found together?”

“In large part.” His mouth curved wryly. “I wanted you as my mistress, sweeting. A wife is another matter altogether.”