Lady Star (Sir Edward 2)

“I am afraid not,” she said sadly.

“Oh?” he was surprised. “Jules tells me it is the grandest affair of the summer. I am sadly disappointed. I had hoped you would be there and liven up the evening.” His hazel eyes were brightly lit.

He was teasing her again, but she didn’t mind. She saw reluctant affection deep in the recesses of his eyes and sighed. No doubt he liked her, but thought her no more than an amusing schoolgirl, in spite of the fact that she was over twenty years old.

“Don’t you want to know why we won’t be there?” she asked when he didn’t.

His brow went up and he said on a chuckle, “You are the most audacious little brat I have ever encountered. I assumed it was because your brother is still unwell and therefore, unable to escort you.”

“That’s right, so both Georgie and I won’t be there.”

“Jules and I will have a very dull evening without you two, of that I am certain. I am persuaded you and Miss Madison are the loveliest creatures in all of Rye,” he answered and his hazel eyes glinted gold as he found hers and looked deep.

Ruefully Star countered, “I rather think you two will manage to go on without us.” So saying, she inclined her head and turned her horse away from him, “Good day, Sir Edward.”

He tipped his hat to her, “Miss Berkley—I hope my company was not too much of an intrusion on your ride?”

She laughed and threw at him, “At first I thought it might be, but no, I enjoyed your company.” She hurried forward, but just as she put distance between them she took a peek over her shoulder and saw him still in place watching her retreating form. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she went on.

Sir Edward Danton had not only taken a place in her mind, he had somehow loomed above all others. His company always sent tickling flutters of excitement through her. He was like no other man of her acquaintance. Everything about him drew on her inner soul and told her he was worth the effort. She wondered fleetingly what unspeakable thing he had done. He obviously regretted it, so she shoved it aside.

What did it all mean? Could he be the one she had been waiting for all her adult years? Her mind objected, but her body and heart were one in accord on this. Was she simply fooling herself because he was so dashing—so attractive? She sighed and told herself that perhaps his latest experience with the woman who had hurt him might have spoiled him for another. Had he really suffered a genuine heartache? She found it ridiculously absurdly that an awful snake of green had traveled through her veins and shut it down. He didn’t look heartbroken. He didn’t act heartbroken and she was fairly certain he was not.

He was, however, quite a challenge. Is that why she was interested? Because he was a challenge? That was a question she should and must consider. What did it all matter? She was fairly certain he was merely entertaining himself. He thought her a brat, an imp, a child. She could see that he found her attractive but that wasn’t meaningful. Men were forever casting out lures and dallying with women they found pretty.

What she wanted was more. What she wanted was a love for all time. What she wanted—oh was he what she wanted?

Chapter Seven

VERN STRETCHED AND moved slowly across his room. He could not and would not allow his sister to miss this ball. He had quite made up his mind.

He stood, unsteadily and put his hand to the glass of the lead paned window overlooking the green gently rolling hills in the distance.

His lawns were no longer manicured, his gardens and yard were infested with weeds and he grimaced at the sight. He saw the flower beds glaring up at him with their unsightly borders. Once they had sported such beauty, now overgrown and full with coarse vegetation.

He was twenty-two and he told himself he should be able to bring things around. Yes, but how? He was a grown man. Still, he had not yet found a way, at least not a noncriminal way, to set his home in order.

What was wrong with him?

His door opened and he turned to the sound of a familiar and welcome voice.

“Hallo, halfling,” Miles Denning said with a wide grin.

Vern stared at his lifelong friend and grinned broadly. Miles was the best of the best, he thought. “Look at you,” he said merrily, in

spite of his weakened state. “Dressed to the nines.” He tried to step toward him and wobbled.

Miles was there in the flash of a moment and had Vern’s weight firmly leaning against him, “Steady ‘ole boy…steady.”

Vern coughed and gave him a weak smile as his friend led him to the bed and deposited him there, saying, “You can cover yourself, I’m not your nursemaid.” His affectionate grin mitigated the words.

Vern smiled weakly and did just that. He regarded his friend thoughtfully as his musings had suddenly came together and he said while still trying to put his meanderings into a coherent suggestion, “Well then my fine dandy, what brings you here? And what the devil are you wearing?”

Miles laughed, ran a hand over his lightweight blue coat, “Too much do you think? It is the height of fashion, you know.”

“It might be, but not with all that wadding in the shoulders. Though I understand your need, since you have none to fall back on,” Vern teased with an accompanying chuckle.

“Can’t hurt to make the ladies look twice,” Miles beamed not at all insulted.