Harlow had no interest in the marriage mart. Nevertheless, he continually dreamed and the moments surrounding Lady Lilian’s accident haunted his sleep still, joining other nightmares from the war which also plagued him. Whenever she came to mind, usually during his dreams, he relived that scene. She was riding a horse, there was a shot and she was thrown from her mount, then to slide and roll over a dozen or more protruding rocks. The same dream repeated itself over and over, making him wake up in a cold sweat. What was so special about this lady?
His mother had continually attempted to cajole him into finding a lady to marry so she could have grandchildren, even going so far as to trick him into meetings with the latest debutante beauty. He had resisted. It was not that he did not wish to marry, but what woman would want to have a man who screamed in terror during the night?
He had admired Lilian’s and her sister’s pluck that fateful day. Avalon’s wife had planned to introduce her daughters and had had the audacity to invite both Max and him to join her in the parlour when her husband’s meeting ended. He chuckled, thinking about the empty parlour. The girls had escaped, taking to their horses before she could gain their attendance. Although Lady Avalon did not seem one to let her temper get the better of her, the tight-lipped smile the Countess had worn while she made small talk and served tea to them both had told him there would be more to come. This mother had planned a reckoning with her daughters.
Harlow appreciated a woman with a streak of independence, although that could not be said of many of his friends. When he spotted Avalon’s daughters galloping neck and neck along the ridge that day, he was further intrigued. Both horses reared at the sudden shot. Max’s and his horses neighed in alarm but were more accustomed, due to service in the war, to loud noises, and the men were able to maintain control. The girl in the blue habit lost her seat and disappeared from his view.
The shot sounded close, as if it had come from his left. Luckily the bullet missed them all. However, since that fateful day he had often wondered if the shot had been accidental? Had the bullet been meant for them?
Chapter 3
Lilian had seen the handsome gentleman glance her way more than once and always with a heart-melting smile. She tried her best not to stare in his direction, yet found her eyes drawn to him, nonetheless. As dancers swished their way across the floor, she strained to catch sight of him from the corner of her eye and made small excuses to herself each time she realized what she was doing. Seeking her mother’s whereabouts was the last excuse she offered, a ridiculous pretence quite unworthy of her intelligence.
Mama had not left the side of the hostess, Lady Smyth, and her friends since she had returned to them following Lilian’s own introduction to Lord Harlow, barely an hour ago. What was even more distressing, each time she looked in her mother’s direction, Mama and her friends were looking in hers, forcing her to give what Mama referred to as her pretend smile. No matter, she justified, it would have to do since she was not interested in being here. Well, she thought, with a tiny twitch of her lips, she had not been until an hour ago.
If she had not become such a cynic this past year, she would have believed—no, she would have wished—John Andrews to be her Prince Charming. Indeed, he looked every bit the gentleman she would have imagined. His thick, wavy brown hair hung to the top of his collar, framing a square, dimpled chin. His broad shoulders accentuated a smaller waist, drawing her attention to his very athletic body. He stood taller than many of the men in the room, a quality that, as she perused his body from the vantage of her chair, looked imposing.
A flash of red caused her to look in his direction. Is he leaving? Quickly, she turned her head away from him, in case he looked back, and realized she had barely noticed anything or anyone other than him since she had made his acquaintance. She shook her head, summoning the will to think of anything else except his sparkling blue eyes and the smile that warmed her to her toes whenever he flashed it in her direction. Think of…anything but him, she ordered herself. Lilian squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping she would see something different when she opened them.
This cannot be happening. She groaned inwardly. Lord Harlow’s red uniform was too easy to spot, and she watched him make his way towards the front of the room, stopping to speak with the hostess, her two daughters, and Lilian’s own mother. A woman dressed in a red satin and gold gown, with reddish-blonde hair in an elaborately jewelled chignon, sauntered from behind him and hastily placed her gloved hand on his arm. She must have said something to the other women, because they immediately stepped back from Lord Harlow, and walked away, whispering. How will I ask Mama about her without it
