To Tame a Dangerous Lord (Courtship Wars 5)

If she ever felt envious of other women her age who led fulfilling lives with husbands and children and love, well, she always crushed her envy instantly. There was no use pining for what one couldn’t have. It would only make her bitter.

And pining after Lord Haviland could only lead to bitterness. She knew very well that he was far beyond her reach.

But still, she couldn’t entirely quell her yearning as she forced herself to leave the drawing room with the intention of settling into her temporary lodgings.

Chapter Four

It is fascinating to watch so many beauties attempt to attract Lord Haviland’s notice, Maman. I would never behave so shamelessly, yet I cannot help wishing he would look at me as he does the stunning Duchess of Arden.

The ballroom at Danvers Hall glowed with lights from myriad chandeliers, while the extravagant attire of more than a hundred guests heightened the glittering splendor.

Yet for Madeline, the ball was just as uncomfortable as she’d feared it would be. Not only did she feel out of place in this illustrious crowd, but seeing Lord Haviland dance with one beauty after another was entirely too disheartening.

She had watched him for the past half hour without making her presence known to him. She was not hiding precisely, Madeline firmly told herself, even though she remained largely concealed from his view by a bank of potted palms. She merely didn’t want Haviland to see her looking so dowdy compared to every other lady present. Her high-waisted, puff-sleeved gown of lavender crepe was suitable enough for a country ball, but not for a blue-blooded affair such as this.

The cream of society seemed to be here tonight, perhaps because Danvers Hall was only a half dozen miles from London’s wealthy Mayfair district where much of the ton resided when not at their country estates. Haviland himself looked as handsome as sin in a tailored black coat, elaborately tied white cravat, silver embroidered waistcoat, and white satin knee breeches.

Indeed, his rugged masculine beauty made every female head turn. Even from across the ballroom, his enormous charisma was apparent. And he appeared to be pouring on the charm with each of his dance partners, although his smile was almost gentle. Madeline suspected he was holding back so as not to frighten any innocent young belles with the dangerous edge of his appeal.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Maman, she thought as he escorted yet another fawning miss back to her chaperone. Haviland was powerful, cunning, even deadly under certain circumstances, Madeline suspected; in his former profession he would have needed to be.

He was also exciting, tantalizing, and fascinating. And evidently, nearly every woman in the room thought so, too.

The shameless way various beauties were throwing themselves at him made Madeline grind her teeth. Much worse, she herself was not immune to his lordship’s appeal. Possibly because she had led a somewhat sheltered life in Essex. Certainly she had never met a man like him before now.

Madeline clenched her jaw, deploring her physical attraction to Haviland. The fact that all those unattached ladies longed to be his countess was yet another reason to crush her infatuation for him. She didn’t want to behave like the gushing, giddy debutantes who were bent on pursuing him.

Just then Haviland began a quadrille with Arabella’s sister Roslyn, who was now the Duchess of Arden. The duchess was a rare beauty—tall, slender, serenely elegant, with exquisitely delicate features and pale gold hair. She was also very clever and well-educated, according to the Danvers housekeeper, Mrs. Simpkin.

As the beautiful duchess danced with the Earl of Haviland, Madeline couldn’t control the stab of envy that assaulted her. They were laughing together as if they were old friends … or something even more intimate. And yet from what she had gleaned from Mrs. Simpkin this afternoon, Roslyn was very happy in her recent marriage to her duke and deeply in love.

No doubt the duchess would arrange a dazzling match for Haviland. But you, Madeline reminded herself, will not be on the list of candidates.

Her heart sank at the thought, even as her conscience scolded her for her foolishness. She would not start feeling sorry for herself!

In truth, she didn’t consider herself inadequate or inferior to the present company. Yet it was difficult to avoid such natural sentiments, Madeline acknowledged. She looked exactly what she was—a spinster who was required to work for her living, whose shabby gentility stood out among the resplendent guests.

She was an outsider to this world, not only in terms of wealth and bloodlines, but in inclination as well. She’d always chaffed at the pretensions and dictates of society. And on the rare occasions that she did mingle with the ton, she found herself biting her tongue all too frequently. Moreover, to her mind, balls were a frivolous waste of time. She felt a bit useless now with nothing to do and no tasks to occupy her.

And honestly, there was no reason for her to be here. Haviland obviously didn’t need her protection as he’d requested. He was handling all his conquests quite well on his own. And Arabella appeared too busy at the moment to introduce her to her fellow teachers.

Madeline had just turned toward the entrance door, intending to retreat from the ballroom, when her name was hailed by a friendly male voice.

Her spirits rose at the sight of Mr. Freddie Lunsford, even though he always seemed to blurt out the first thought that came into his head. “I say, Miss Ellis, what the devil are you doing here, hiding behind the palms? Rayne and I both have been searching for you.”

“I am not very fond of balls,” she answered frankly, while her heart skipped a beat at the claim that the earl was searching for her. She couldn’t credit it, for if that were so, his lordship could have easily found her.

“I don’t care much for ’em either,” Freddie agreed, tugging slightly at his cravat as he moved to stand beside her. “Too demmed hot and tedious. A fellow has to be on his best behavior at a ball. And I am so flat-footed that I endanger a lady’s toes every time I take to the floor. I am better off not dancing, and what fun is a ball if you can’t dance?”

“Indeed,” she murmured in agreement. “Haviland seems to be enjoying himself, however,” Madeline couldn’t help saying, glancing at him as he danced with the duchess.

“Oh, no, his enjoyment is only an act,” Freddie declared. “He would rather shun balls altogether, with all the grasping young chits fighting over his favor. But he is more eager to get his grandmother off his back by marrying.”

“He and the Duchess of Arden seem to be on good terms,” Madeline prodded.

“Well, of course. They were neighbors for much of last year. And he courted her before she decided to marry Arden. Nearly dueled over her, in fact.”

Madeline felt an inexplicable pressure squeeze her chest. Haviland had lost Roslyn Loring to the Duke of Arden? “When was that?” she asked, her voice holding a deplorable weakness.