Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

The strains of the orchestra tuning up for another cotillion drifted from the next room. Lord Fenton held out his hand.

“Miss Brightwell, would you do me the honour…?”

Her skin prickled under his assessing look as they arranged themselves in a group of four couples. She felt as exposed as if she were standing, naked, under a blazing sun.

“With your dark hair and proud blue eyes you’d have made the perfect Anne Boleyn at the Vauxhall masquerade,” he murmured.

Fanny stared ahead as she prepared for the dance, and wondered how she should respond. So he knew…everything.

“You certainly risked that beautiful neck of yours,” he went on, as they performed their figures in the centre of the group before returning to the sidelines. Then, squeezing her hand, he murmured, “I just want to assure you that, as a gentleman, your secret is safe with me.”

Reassuring her or taunting her? Was this sport at her expense?

“A great relief, sir,” she responded warily as they watched the other dancers go through the motions, “though I believe that in carrying me off forcibly yours was the greater crime. I had become separated from my friends and Lord Alverley was about to help me find them before you took advantage of the situation.”

Though she said it with hauteur, the memory of the burning kisses this man had trailed over her throat and across her collarbone made her desperate for more. The other liberties she’d nearly allowed him to make made her want to crawl into a dark hole.

“You’re flushed, Miss Brightwell. Perhaps you need air. Shall we step outside?”

So, he was taunting her. “How dare you—?” she began in an angry undertone, but was cut short by the realisation that indeed he was only teasing her.

His deep brown eyes held laughter. “My dear Miss Brightwell, you surely do not imagine I would be so bold as to whisk you away from tonight’s company as I did two nights ago?” He grazed the sensitive skin of her forearm with his hand and she shivered as he added, “And for that you have my apology. The truth is that, much as I would like that, I am a gentleman.”

She glanced at the nearest couple, afraid their conversation might be overheard, relieved when he murmured with surprising intensity, “I just wanted to reasure you of that. Whatever happened between us was between you and me…alone.”

Holding Lord Fenton’s gaze, Fanny executed her dance steps like an automaton. They’d been drilled into her as thoroughly as her need to perform in the marriage mart.

The brittle pride that had armoured her against the damage he could do her—in so many ways—was replaced by a tiny kernel of hope. Lord Fenton was studying Fanny with the greatest interest…and lack of condemnation.

She thought of her impending marriage to Lord Slyther. In twenty-four hours she’d be his possession; his prisoner. And right beside her was a young man who acknowledged that he had feelings for her and that despite her boldness he nevertheless respected her.

A yearning and desperation gathered force within her that was so powerful she thought she might be extinguished. Desperately she needed to explain. “My Lord, in your arms something came over me… I’d never felt it before and”—she kept her eyes trained on his as they linked elbows to dos-à-dos down the centre of the room—“I felt I was in heaven.”

Looking decidedly pleased, he put his head close to hers before they separated briefly once more. “Then we shall have to do it again, Miss Brightwell—only this time I promise to proceed in a far more gentlemanly manner.”

Was there any clearer way for him to indicate his interest? She was about to respond, to indicate her pleasure and hopefully prolong the boyish charm that had replaced for the moment his rakish self-confidence, but her words were truncated by a gasp. Right before her very eyes she was bearing witness to what threatened to be her sister’s greatest impropriety yet.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, clutching the hated ring on its chain, which she had all but forgotten.

“Miss Brightwell?”

When he touched her arm, bare above her gloves, she jerked into sensual awareness, her heart rate speeding up now on more than just Antoinette’s account. She pointed. “My sister has this moment disappeared through a door behind that tapestry.” Her head swam as she contemplated her mother’s fury at the possible repercussions. A fury that would, in this case, be warranted. “Not one second after Mr Bramley,” she added, faintly.

“George Bramley knows this is your sister’s first ball.” She heard concern in Lord Fenton’s tone. His dark eyes gentled. “I’m sure he wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know Bramley if you believe that, sir.” She knew she spoke too hotly but her mind was running circles around Antoinette’s potential for ruining the entire Brightwell family’s prospects.

The squeeze of his hand upon her wrist brought her close to tears. Again he lowered his head to speak softly, his warm breath against her ear spearing tingles of almost unbearable need throughout her entire body.

“The moment this set ends I’ll follow them. We need to be discreet. Don’t worry, Miss Brightwell—Mr Bramley will not ruin your family’s good name under my watch.” Pointing to a single door at the end of the saloon that led to the ladies’ mending room, he added, “Follow the passage to your right until the last door. I’ll meet you in the chamber beyond.”

Fighting her impatience, Fanny watched his judicious exit. As soon as she deemed it appropriate, she hurried away to carry out his instructions…right into the path of her chaperone for the evening.

“Lady Harwood, I have two loose buttons that need securing,” she gasped. “Please excuse me.”

Although Lady Harwood’s sponsorship of the Brightwell girls was a discreet arrangement that eased the dowager duchess’s pecuniary difficulties and gilded Fanny and Antoinette’s prospects, she took her duties seriously. Holding her lorgnette up to her hooded eyes, she scanned the assembly.

“I trust the ladies’ mending room is where we’ll find Antoinette.” She gave a disapproving sniff. “The girl is too pretty with too little sense to make me easy.”