Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) (4 page)

“I missed the idea of England. The only time I lived here was to attend school. Still, I have always thought of England as home.” He cut her a quick grin. “I must rely on you to guide me.”

She blushed charmingly. “To answer your question, the Park is normally much more crowded. We are at the end of the Season. I shall do my best to show you around.”

“How much longer are you fixed in Town?”

“For at least another few weeks.”

That was exactly what Chuffy had hoped for. He settled back to enjoy the ride and his companion. He should know soon if they would suit and where she was spending Christmas. If things went well and her plans were not set, he would write to his mother and ask her to issue an invitation to the Hiller family.

D
amon rode his horse, Mentor, at a sedate pace in the Park. On the first day of the Battle of Salamanca, his last horse had been shot out from under him. That night, he had won the beast in a card game.

Mentor pranced and tossed his head at a pretty mare that appeared to want to flirt. “Did I forget to mention that you’ve been gelded?”

The horse ignored him, casting his head toward the mare. Damon set him to a walk as he searched the carriages and those strolling, hoping to see Miss Featherton. Surely she was here somewhere. The rest of the
ton
who were still in Town had managed to show themselves.

He had not been able to tolerate not knowing what her reaction to his flowers had been. Had Miss Featherton liked his flowers? Had she ascertained they had come from him? How many houses had blue and red as their colors?

Bloody hell
. He should have researched it before deciding to leave the blasted note unsigned. Not knowing what his reception would be, he was hesitant to go to her house. Then he had hit on the idea to find her in a public place, and he’d not been having any luck. He had been too clever by half, and now he was going to suffer for it.

His horse snorted.

“You’re not the only one disgusted by this outing.” As he glanced around, a phaeton painted bright yellow came into view.

Throughgood—and it appeared he had Miss Hiller with him. He had been correct. Her appearance was greatly improved by eyeglasses. She might know where Miss Featherton was.

Damon urged Mentor forward. “Throughgood, well met.”

His friend pulled up onto the verge as his pair of matched grays nervously eyed Mentor. “Still in Town, I see. Miss Hiller, may I introduce Lord Hawksworth? Hawksworth, Miss Hiller.”

She smiled and inclined her head. “A pleasure, my lord.” She glanced at Chuffy and her smile deepened. “I believe you know my friend Miss Featherton?”

“I do.” He debated an attempt at subtlety, but the last time he had not received the desired result. “Have you seen her recently? I thought she might be in the Park.”

“I believe Lady Featherton has her busy shopping for last minute items before they return home in a day or two.”

Hell and damnation
. Did that mean he would be forced to haunt Bond Street looking for Miss Featherton? “I suppose she will remain there until next Season.”

“Not at all. She is joining my mother and me at Lady Bellamny’s estate for Christmas.”

Now that was a piece of good news. “Then I shall meet you both there.”

“You will see her this evening if you plan to attend Lady Torrey’s ball.” Miss Hiller had cut a quick glance at Throughgood before turning her wide blue eyes back to Damon.

“Yes, of course I shall attend.” At least he had received an invitation, although he had not answered it. On the other hand, he had discovered last Season that unwed heirs to wealthy dukedoms were never turned away. “Throughgood, I assume you will be present as well?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” His friend gave Miss Hiller a lingering look, and Damon began to feel as if he was missing out on something important.

He held up his crop in a salute. “Until this evening.”

Chuffy drove off, and Damon headed toward home. There was no reason to be in the Park if Miss Featherton was absent.

He sent a prayer to the Deity that he had chosen the right house party to attend. The real question was how long would it take for her to recover from Tarlington, and what could Damon do to help her along?

 

“My lord.” Amanda watched as Lord Hawksworth rode away. This was the perfect time to discover how Lord Throughgood felt about Meg. “What do you think about Lord Hawksworth’s interest in Miss Featherton?”

Lord Throughgood was quiet for a few moments. “It is my belief that he has serious intentions.” He glanced at Amanda. “You are her friend. Do you like the possibility of a match?”

She wished she could have been as direct as Lord Hawksworth had been, but uncertainty over Lord Throughgood’s feelings toward her made her parry. “Can you think of anyone better suited?”

He grinned. “Not at present. Are you of a matchmaking disposition, Miss Hiller?”

“Oh no.” Flustered, she pleated her skirts. “I mean, not usually. It is only that Miss Featherton is so sad right now, and I do want her to be happy. What do you know of him?”

“We are old school friends and have not seen much of each other in recent years. That said, we have kept in touch . . .” He gave Amanda a glowing report of his friend. Then his lordship’s much larger hand covered hers, stopping the destruction of her gown. “I am of a mind to leave Hawksworth to the business of making your friend happy. What
I
would like to know is how you would feel if I were to visit you while you are attending Lady Bellamny’s house party. My father’s estate is only a few miles from it.”

Her hands stilled completely, and tears of happiness rushed to her eyes. She blinked rapidly before gazing at him. “I would very much like to see you there.”

“In that case, the moment I return to my rooms, I shall write to my mother and ask her to arrange invitations to some of the parties.”

“How much longer are you in Town?” Suddenly, Christmas seemed very far off, and she wanted to spend as much time getting to know him as possible.

“I have no plans to leave much before Christmas.”

That was good. She glanced up from beneath her eyelashes. “Will I see you tomorrow evening?”

“I sent my response immediately. I would not miss the opportunity to dine with you
en famille
. Will you grant me the supper dance at the ball? If you are not already spoken for, that is.”

This was all Amanda had hoped for. She was sorry that he had lost his uncle and cousin, but glad the circumstances had brought Lord Throughgood home. She might never have met him otherwise.

She felt as if the sun was shining directly over her, brightening and warming everything. “The dance is yours, my lord.”

He grinned at her, completing her happiness. “Thank you. I will hope that the time between your leaving Town and the house party goes quickly.”

“As will I.” Amanda counted the days and wondered how many of them she could spend with Lord Throughgood.

Then she remembered poor Meg. Yet today had solidified Amanda’s conviction that Lord Hawksworth was the right gentleman for her friend. And that Lord Throughgood might very well be the perfect man for her. Now all she had to do was find a way to bring Meg around.

 

Meg would never have believed there were still so many people in Town, but the ballroom could not possibly hold another person. She had seen Amanda descend the stairs, but had been unable to catch even a glimpse of her since. Actually, Meg had not seen much of Amanda recently. Well, that would change once they were back at home.

Meg glanced at her dance card. Only two sets did not have a name next to them. She supposed she should be glad, but instead she felt as if she’d been set adrift. She had always thought gentlemen were essentially good at heart, but now knew that with the exception of her father and brothers, they could not be trusted.

She stole a glance, hoping to find Lord Throughgood, but her view was blocked by a tall man with a large ruby nestled in his cravat. Really, what kind of gentleman wore such a large jewel? She continued to look up until she met the deep brown gaze of Lord Hawksworth.

Warmth lurked in his eyes, disturbing the serene mien she was attempting to project. Ah well, at least he was not wearing the pink and white striped neckcloth he had worn earlier to-day when she’d seen him on Bruton Street. And she had to admit, with a chest as broad as his, the ruby did not look out of place or overly showy.

He bowed. “Miss Featherton, would it be too much to hope that you have a set for which you are not engaged?”

She wanted to say her card was full, but then she would be caught in a lie. Meg was certain that she could convince her mother to leave before the last waltz, but not before the supper dance. “I am free for the first waltz.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed, and for the first time she noticed the restless restraint with which he held himself. Forcibly reminding her of one of the caged lions in the Royal Menagerie. Then he turned, and as he walked away the heels of his shoes glittered. Jewels? Meg let out the breath she’d been holding. He was nothing more than a Dandy, and she had been concerned. More fool she. It really was time to go home when she saw danger in every gentleman. Still, she had never before met a Dandy who reminded her of a dangerous beast. Even now, he seemed to prowl around the ballroom. No, she was correct in her first assessment of his lordship: He was not to be trusted.

“Meg?” Kit and his wife, Mary, had strolled up. “Did Hawksworth say anything to upset you?”

“No, of course not.” He did not have to say anything at all. His mere presence troubled her. “He merely asked for a dance.”

“You were looking at him as if he . . .” Her brother shook his head. “Never mind. How are you?”

Kit and Mary had been in Town for a week, but had opted to reside at the Pulteney Hotel until their apartments were ready at Featherton House. Meg had recently discovered their father had received the same information about Tarlington that Meg had, and Papa would have told Kit. “I am well. How long have you known Lord Hawksworth?”

“I knew him in school, then he went off to the army. Strange thing for an heir to do. After that, I didn’t see him again until last Season. He’s a bruising rider, handles a team well, and he recently won a wager at Angelo’s, betting on himself.”

That did not fit in at all with his silk neckcloth and jeweled heels. What was the man playing at? It was as if he was trying to be all things to all people.

She had been right to be distrustful of him. Fortunately, the Season was ending in a couple of days. And Amanda would not have a chance to fall in love with the devil.

 

A half hour before midnight, Damon collected Miss Featherton for his dance with her, which happened to be not only the first waltz but the supper dance. Yet unlike the last time he had arranged to stand up with her, she had a militant cast to her eyes. Had he done something to upset her, or was this a result of her recent heartbreak?

They took their places on the floor. When he put his palm on her waist, he had the urge to tug her a bit closer, yet she stood perfectly still, as if she felt nothing. Was she now afraid to get close to a man? That would make his courting of her much more difficult.

Damn Tarlington to hell. Damon had almost decided to tell her he was attending Lady Bellamny’s house party, but now that didn’t seem like a good idea at all.

The music began and he was not surprised at how gracefully she followed his lead, or how well she performed the steps. They were silent for several moments. He must say something, but what? Miss Featherton was definitely not encouraging conversation. “I suppose Lady Torrey is happy this is such a crush.”

Although she glanced up at him, he could glean nothing from her shuttered expression. “Naturally, she will be pleased. I did not think there would be so many present.”

“Will you depart for the country soon?”

“Mama and I will leave the day after to-morrow. My father still has some issues to settle before he joins us. And you, my lord?”

“I shall remain a while longer.” Damon would have liked to learn more about her, but obviously she was not in the mood to disclose or invite confidences. “After that, a round of house parties awaits me.” Not exactly the truth, but close enough. “I suppose you will remain with your family.”

“For the most part.”

This was the most excruciatingly tortured conversation he had ever had with a woman. “In that case, I shall wish you a Happy Christmas.”

Her countenance seemed to soften for a moment before she replied, “I wish you the same.”

Damon gave up attempting to converse and settled in to enjoy having Miss Featherton in his arms, envisioning a time when she would be in his bed. Her long dark hair spread on a snowy white pillow, her ruby lips swollen with his kisses, and her porcelain skin flushed with passion. Unfortunately, it would not be tonight or any night in the immediate future. Knowing what a vibrant lady she was, it was disconcerting and heartrending to see her so guarded and subdued.

When the dance ended, he returned Miss Featherton to her mother.

The lady’s sharp eyes studied her daughter. “Are you not feeling well, my dear?”

“I have a headache. It must be the heat.”

She turned to him, obviously wishing to beg off having his escort to supper. Before she could speak, he said, “It is rather warm in here.” Or it had been when they’d been dancing. “Perhaps you should retire.”

“I think that is a very good idea.” Lady Featherton nodded approvingly.

He watched as they made their way out of the room. To-night had not gone as he had wished. Still, he had the house party to look forward to. Perhaps she would be in better spirits by then.

Without saying good-night to his hostess, Damon slipped into the hall and called for his town coach. Several minutes later he was home, a glass of brandy warming in his palms. Somehow he would find a way to break through the barrier Miss Featherton had erected around her and the path to her heart. Yet first, he needed to know how badly she had been hurt. Before Tarlington left the country, the gossip was that an offer from the man had been imminent. Speculation had flared for a few days, but when the Feathertons behaved as if nothing untoward had occurred, it died down. What had happened between them, and who could Damon ask?

 

The next afternoon Damon plied the knocker on the front door of Lady Bellamny’s town house. The old lady terrorized most of the
ton
, including him when he was in Town. But she was his godmother and had always been kind to him. While he’d been in the army, she had maintained a steady correspondence. Not that he would let anyone know it. The information might ruin her reputation as a Fury.