The Honourable Fortune Hunter (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 5)

She nodded, her smile faltering in the silence as she tried to concentrate on a burst of flaming embers rather than Theo’s wonderfully twisted half smile, which made his lips look so desirable she wanted to reach out a hand and trace their outline. Instead, she cleared her throat and managed, “So, you’re here to atone by telling me you were completely in the wrong for speaking like that to me?”

“I was completely in the wrong, Miss Scott.”

“Lizzy.”

“Lizzy,” he repeated, his smile so heart-melting she was about to forgive him when he added, “Though I do think you too young to know what you’re doing by even considering a man like Mr Dalgleish.”

“Well then, Theo, what gives you the right to decide whom I should consider as a husband?”

“Nothing whatsoever, other than that you remind me of my sister, and I’d have cautioned her against such an action in a similar situation.”

“Did you ever?” Lizzy couldn’t help herself. She thought of poor dead Miss McAlister, snuffed out just like her own sisters, and wondered if the girl had ever been in love.

He shook his head. “Jane never formed an attachment, though…” he hesitated, “she knew the danger of a poorly considered one.”

“Indeed. An oracle on love, then.” Lizzy waited, hoping he’d elaborate, but when he did not, she asked, “And what of you, Mr McAlister? Has your intended made her grand entrance yet?”

“A grand entrance is not her style. She is shy and modest and—”

“Most unlike me which is why you like her so much.”

“You mistake the matter. I respect her for her shyness and modesty for it is part of her charming character. You, on the other hand, I applaud for your courage and daring.”

Lizzy felt a fluttering in the region of her heart. No one had ever said anything half so nice to her. She was about to blurt this out, in fact, before remembering that one of her greatest faults was her unladylike habit of doing just that—speaking her thoughts before she properly considered them. So she just inclined her head and said as demurely as she could, “You are very kind, Mr McAlister.”

He burst out laughing. “What a queen of the stage you would make. That’s not at all what you were really thinking, was it?”

“Actually, what I was really thinking,” she said, completely forgetting her self-imposed stricture to consider her words, “was how happy it made me feel when you complimented me because the truth is, only Mabel compliments me, and she’s paid a wage—" She stopped and sighed. “I shouldn’t run on like this. Mrs Hodge will be here soon and no doubt you are wondering how you can take your leave.”

“Why, Miss Scott, there you are!” another masculine voice intruded, and they both raised their heads to look at the tall, handsome figure in the doorway, looking very fine in his sharply cut black coat over a flamboyant green and gold waistcoat and tight-fitting inexpressibles. Nevertheless, Lizzy thought she preferred Theo’s more sober attitude to fashion. He, at least, didn’t look as if he might cut himself on his collar points. “I hope your flirtation with the fireplace isn’t a symptom of catching a chill from your recent terrible encounter.” Now Mr Dalgleish was striding across the room, glancing with disdain at Theo as he took Lizzy’s hands and brought them to his lips. “I beg that you will stand up with me for the first dance and, in the meantime, tell me how you are enjoying your time here.”

Lizzy inclined her head, her eyes flickering to Theo’s face to gauge his reaction as she responded, “I would be only too delighted, Mr Dalgleish.”

To her chagrin, however, Theo quirked an eyebrow and, instead of putting in a counteroffer, merely nodded his intention to excuse himself with a parting look that conveyed only scorn of what he’d seen.

“And might I say how charming you look tonight.” Mr Dalgleish moved a little closer. So close, in fact, that Lizzy could smell the cologne he used. It was both disconcerting and, she had to admit it, exciting since the closest she had been to a man was on the dance floor at the few provincial balls and assemblies she’d attended in Norfolk.

That is, until the twenty-four hours she’d spent under Mr McAlister’s roof and, of course, and she wasn’t really alone now since she was in the midst of a grand entertainment surrounded by people in the next room, no doubt.

“You’re very kind, Mr Dalgleish,” she said, attributing her sudden nervousness to the fact that she wanted very much for everything to go well now that Theo had made clear his disinterest. Mr Dalgleish would have to be the man who’d save her from a life of torment with Mrs Hodge.

Mr Dalgleish applied a gentle pressure to her fingers and put his head close to Lizzy’s. “You have no idea how much I’ve been anticipating Lady Quamby’s Christmas Ball after I received so much encouragement during our meeting in Norfolk all those months ago.” His eyes flicked to the mistletoe above the lintel and, observing they were still alone, he whispered, “Encouragement which emboldens me to ask, in the tradition of Yuletide festivities, whether I might be permitted a kiss beneath the mistletoe?

”

Lizzy was still digesting what encouragement she had given him in Norfolk all those months ago when he put his hand on the small of her back, manoeuvred her a few steps towards the doorway and, cupping her cheek with his other hand, lowered his lips to hers.

The sensation was extraordinary. She gasped, stiffened, then allowed her lips to soften sufficiently so that when they broke apart and he asked, beaming and confident, “Did you like that, Miss Scott?” she was able to answer honestly with a nod, “I did, Mr Dalgleish.”

“And a fine piece of horseflesh it was too,” came the booming voice of a couple of red-faced country squires who chose that moment to make their noisy entrance, leaving Lizzy unsure as to whether she was relieved or otherwise that Mr Dalgleish should leave trysting aside and as he said, go and see to the comfort of his mother, adding that Mrs Dalgleish was highly desirous of seeing Lizzy too, and that she must go with him to the card room where she was waiting, in order to avoid appearing impolite.

“Of course,” said Lizzy obligingly, frowning at the proprietorial hand Mr Dalgleish put upon her forearm as he steered her through the crowd towards his mother, who sat upon a love seat on the periphery of the eager card players, deep in conversation with an old dowager.

Mrs Dalgleish was a stout woman with a round face from which a pair of very dark assessing eyes appeared like raisins, Lizzy thought. Tonight, she was elegantly attired in a feather-plumed, purple-velvet toque that matched her round gown.

She nodded when she saw Lizzy standing beside her son and said, “I hope you will not make it a habit to embroil yourself in drama, young lady. Word of your escapade has spread far and wide. Why, imagine plunging into a river! I was most displeased to hear of it.”

Lizzy blinked in surprise and was about to object that she was hardly at fault when Mr Dalgleish interjected, “I think you are a brave heroine, Lizzy.” He smiled and lowered his voice. “Do you not agree that certain events this evening indicate you do not mind a greater familiarity in my form of address?” he murmured. “The main thing is that dear Lizzy is well and uninjured.”