She tugged at the damp bow, permitted him to come behind her and ease the garment from her shoulders. A shiver of awareness coursed down to her cold toes. When Lara agreed to assist in Montague’s harebrained plan, he failed to mention the earl’s striking features or that the gathering was arranged purposely to find the gentleman a bride.
“May I commend you on your bravery?” he said, draping her cloak over his arm.
“Why? Because I managed to battle through the terrible storm?” Or because she was the first lady to dismiss his wealth and title in preference of character?
“No other lady alive would dare tell my mother to attend to her hair.” The earl seemed rather pleased, spoke as if he had finally found an ally. With a light touch to her back he guided her from the room, and again she experienced the comforting sense of fellowship. A warm glow swirled in her stomach that had nothing to do with the nip of brandy she’d taken earlier.
“So, Miss Bennett, are you ready to meet the vultures?”
Lara cast him a sidelong glance. “Cynicism is the devil’s friend, my lord. How might you notice a lady’s virtues if you’re constantly living in the dark?”
“You’re as free with your opinions as I am, Miss Bennett.”
“Perhaps, but I express them to those concerned, and only when prompted.” She hoped she was a little more tactful.
Mischief played in his bright blue eyes. “What are you saying? That I might always expect an honest answer from you?”
“Yes, always.”
He paused, though his smug grin spoke of a wicked plan. “So, you meant what you said earlier? You think I’m handsome, Miss Bennett?”
Hell’s bells. The man was a tease and a cynic.
Lara looked him keenly in the eyes. “Dangerously so, my lord.”
Chapter Three
As expected, Miss Bennett received a lukewarm reception from the ladies in the drawing room. While the chits’ mouths curled into half smiles, and they welcomed the new arrival with the politeness befitting their stations, fear and loathing flashed in their eyes whenever Miss Bennett shifted her attention.
The opposite might be said of Lord Flanders whose brown eyes glowed as hot as his fiery red hair. He looked upon the new guest as if she had descended in a shower of gold—a heavenly miracle delivered in celebration of the religious festival.
“How remarkable, Miss Bennett,” Lord Flanders said as they moved to the outskirts of the room. He brought the lady’s hand to his thin lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “My carriage is also stuck north of West Chisenbury.”
Hugo suppressed a sigh. Hardly remarkable considering the weather. “I’m to fetch Miss Bennett’s valise if you wish to accompany me and assess the conditions.” Flanders’ love affair with his new carriage had seen him cursing the weather as one might a jealous rival with wicked intentions.
Flanders’ eyes grew wide. “Most certainly. But should you not simply send a groom?”
“Why trouble the staff when I have need to inspect the roads?” And any excuse to leave the house would have him in the saddle in seconds. “It’s a five-minute ride on horseback.”
Flanders glanced at the ladies seated on the sofas. “Ah, you find their company tedious and wish to escape. I cannot blame you. There is nothing more disconcerting than desperate gels.”
“Often it is not the ladies who are desperate but their controlling mamas,” Miss Bennett pointed out, not at all offended by Flanders’ outspoken manner. She turned to Hugo, and he found himself held captive by her big brown eyes. “There is no need to venture out on my account. I shan’t be here long. My grandfather will have the cavalry searching when I fail to arrive in Chippenham.”
And he would need help from the cavalry to make it this far. “I’m told the roads are impassable between Cherhill and Upavon. Carriage travel is out of the question. Only a fool would dare risk riding their mount further than a few miles.”
Miss Bennett’s bow-shaped lips curled into a coy smile. “You don’t know my grandfather. He would rather perish in the cold than sit at home worried and idle.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo noticed Miss Harper slither towards them.
Every muscle in his body stiffened.
“Though you mentioned your grandfather, Miss Bennett, I have no recollection of ever meeting the gentleman,” Miss Harper said, depositing herself into the conversation. “Every notable member of the nobility attended Lady Monroe’s summer ball, though I recall no mention of a Lord Forsyth.”
“I doubt you would,” Miss Bennett replied, unfazed by the chit’s probing. “My grandfather finds town tiresome. The people dull and dreadful bores.” It was said as a statement of fact, not a set-down.
Hugo suppressed a grin and took a sidestep. Miss Harper had no concept of personal space, not when on a mission to seduce a man into marriage. He could not deny the lady had an enviable figure. And while considered beautiful by most men’s standards, her ugly arrogance distorted her fine features.
Miss Harper sucked in her cheeks. “When a gentleman prefers sitting alone by the fireside to waltzing in town, one must question who is the bore.” Her affected chuckle grated.