A Lady's Virture Page 14

  Searching the room, he found March had entered with a blond woman on his arm and a smirk on his face.

  Miles grabbed Anthony’s shoulder. “Now is not the time to make a scene, Grafton. You are an earl, and this is your first ball. You need to make an impression that doesn’t include beating a viscount bloody on the dance floor.”

  Just because Miles was right didn’t mean that Anthony wasn’t tempted. “I will be a perfect gentleman as long as he is. I’ll not have her upset by that ass.”

  Miles’s gaze changed as the crowd murmured. “Before you worry about Miss Dowder’s past, you had better take care of your own.” He nodded toward the garden doors.

  His last affair, Mrs. Minny Minot, had walked in with the Earl of Bancroft. She was an actress with the most stunning figure. She could lure in devil and saint alike with her assets. Anthony crossed to the pair, forcing his expression to remain bland. “Mrs. Minot, I was not expecting you tonight.”

  “No. I suppose not. It has been two months since you came to see me, and his lordship has been a most entertaining replacement.” She rubbed her ample chest along Bancroft’s arm.

  She smiled smugly, and Bancroft wore an apology across his face. Anthony should have been irate, but he didn’t care. He’d stopped seeing her because the thought of any woman always led him back to Sylvia. He must have been blind not to see it before. “Mrs. Minot, I wish you well. Enjoy your evening. I believe it will be one to remember.”

  Opening her mouth, she paused, and then closed it again.

  Bancroft laughed. “Come, Minny, the music is about to start, and I want a glass of wine before we become parched.”

  Whatever Minny mumbled, Anthony couldn’t quite hear as he made his way across to Sylvia.

  Sophia must have seen March enter too, as his sister had rallied around Sylvia for support.

  Anthony bowed. “Miss Sylvia Dowder, it would be my honor if you would open the dancing with me tonight.”

  She looked around her at the people watching. He’d given her no choice without making a scene. “I…I would be delighted, my lord.”

  The first strains of the minuet sounded. Perhaps he should feel guilty for trapping her, but he was too happy at having her on his arm as they walked to the dance floor and he stood in line across from her.

  The master of ceremonies was a chubby fellow with a yellow waistcoat and a shock of gray hair that fell over his eyes. His breeches were too tight, and his shoes shined to perfection. He was like a farcical drawing from the paper.

  Anthony gave him a nod, and he turned to the musicians, who began the set. He made his turn, as did a lady at the far end of the line. It was several turns before Sylvia was beside him.

  “You should have asked someone else to dance, my lord.” She had spoken quickly and was too far away for him to reply.

  Another few stanzas, and they came together at the center. “I did not wish to dance with anyone else.”

  It was fun to make a statement and have the other person unable to respond. Perhaps it would give her time to think about what he’d said.

  “I don’t see why that would be. There are many lovely ladies here.” She was gone a moment later, and he noted a leer from March as they passed.

  It was torture to wait for the next time she was beside him. “I don’t think you should look for some secret meaning. Only that you are the only woman I wanted to dance with.”

  By the time they stood across from each other again, the dance ended, and the dancers stepped away for refreshments.

  Anthony crossed to her and offered his arm. “Shall I escort you back to your sister?”

  She took his arm. “Why are you acting this way?”

  “What way?”

  “Like we are courting.”

  “Miss Sylvia?” March bolted across the room.

  Sylvia made a curtsy but did not smile or give any indication as to her emotions. She watched him until it was clear he would say no more. “Hello, Lord March. How are you?”

  “You look very lovely tonight. May I ask if you will save the next dance for me?”

  “No.” She’d whispered, but there was no mistaking her reply.

  Anthony wanted to jump for joy and punch March in that stupid nose of his.

  Mouth hanging open, March stepped back. “No? You will not dance with me?”

  “Why on earth would you think I would? You should count yourself lucky that I don’t make a scene right here in the ballroom. You can rest assured that the only reason I have not is because I respect Lord Grafton too much to do so.”

  His eyes grew round and rather puppylike. It was disgusting. “But Sylvia, I have missed you.”

  “Who is the lovely young lady I saw you enter with?” A coldness settled over Sylvia that Anthony had not seen before. It was an eerie calmness, which didn’t bode well for March.

  “Miss Melony Smyth. She is the granddaughter of an earl.” His smugness was enough to make one run screaming from the room, perhaps the country. As if either of them would care about his connections.

  “How long have you been courting her?” She raised her eyebrows and leaned in a fraction of an inch.

  “Almost four months.” He was too stupid to notice her clipped tone or see she was baiting him.

  “Have you proposed?”

  His smile was slow and sickeningly sweet. “Are you jealous, Sylvia?”

  “Don’t be absurd. Have you proposed?” She crossed her arms. It was the first sign she’d grown annoyed.

  “Miss Smyth accepted my proposal of marriage last week.” At least he had the good sense to look embarrassed finally.

  “Will you toss over that poor girl for me, now, or were you planning to have me as a mistress? Whichever it is, you are the worst specimen of a man, and I sincerely hope that girl realizes what an ass you are before she gets to the church.” She turned and walked out on the veranda.

  “I—she—the nerve. That woman has no right to speak to me with so little respect. I was good to her. It’s not my fault I became a viscount.”

  The gentleman in Anthony knew he should walk away and say nothing, but the American in him couldn’t make himself do it. “It seems to me Miss Dowder was as polite as you deserved. Your behavior was completely ungentlemanly, and you should have been thrashed. I’m sure, had she had a brother, he would have called you out for such poor treatment. However, as it is, you have gotten away with your disgraceful behavior and should count yourself lucky that she managed to keep her voice down.”

  Wide-eyed, March gaped. “You would have a viscount marry a girl of little consequence and without connections? I would have done my family and title a disservice.”

  Anthony’s fisted fingers bit into his palms. It would have been far worse if March had done the right thing, as then he would never have gotten to know his Everton lady. “I would have you be a gentleman and not just play at one. Good evening.”

  Whatever March might have responded, it was lost in the din of the crowd as Anthony made his way out of the ballroom, down the hall, through his office and out to the veranda. It wouldn’t do to have half of London see him go after her. His surreptitious route took him in the other direction.

  As bravely as she had set March down, she appeared hurt and small standing in the corner of the rose garden.

  Easing down the steps, he watched as the guests enjoying the cool night walked back inside for the next dance. “Should I have thrashed him and tossed him from the house, Sylvie?”

  Her arms were crossed, and she gripped her elbows. A long sigh brought her slim shoulders up and down. “As wonderful as that sounds, no. He would not learn anything from it, and you would come to regret it. I’m not selfish enough to want you to beat him soundly just for my benefit.”

  “I’m pretty sure I would not regret it. His nose needs breaking.” Anthony’s fists itche
d to do just that.

  She released her arms and chuckled. “It would be a glorious thing, and I thank you, Tony, but we’ll have to let it live in our imaginations.”

  “Too bad.” Closing the gap between them, he let the floral scent of her envelop him. No rose garden could compete with her.

  Eyes bright, she looked at him. “How do you think the ball is going?”

  “Everyone is drinking and dancing. I’d say that’s a success.” If everyone inside would suddenly disappear, it would suit Anthony just fine. He wanted to have her to himself and explain his feelings and why it took him so long to recognize them. He had no idea how he would do that. His heart sank.

  The clouds had cleared, and her torches were lit, giving the garden the look of a fairy tale, and she the queen of the fairies. “You will be the toast of London in the morning. Everyone will be impressed.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, will you be impressed?”

  She cocked her head. “It’s not important what I think, Tony.”

  But it was the most important opinion. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight? If I didn’t, I am an imbecile. You are by far the loveliest woman at the ball.”

  Wide eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”

  “Not yet.” He laughed.

  “You know that there is no need to compliment me. I work for you and can do nothing but write gossip for your reputation. Actually, I’m thinking of giving that up.” She kicked the ground with the tip of her slipper.

  Catching a glimpse of her slim ankle, he longed to see more of her, all of her. Lord, he was losing his mind over a bit of leg. “I’m only stating the truth. Why give up the column?”

  “I may have gone too far by defending myself. People will begin to figure out that Miss Tattler and I are the same person.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. “Perhaps just take some time off and return with a new nom de plume. I hate to think of you giving up on something you love.”

  “You don’t think readers would recognize the writing style?”

  He scoffed more harshly than he’d intended. “People rarely see what is right in front of them, let alone notice someone may or may not have a similar pen. If you want to give it up, then that’s different, but if you do it to keep peace, Sylvie, I say do what makes you happy.”

  “I will give it some thought. Thank you, Tony. You had better get back to your guests and return the same way you came, or there will be more gossip than either of us can tolerate by morning, and all this work to keep you single would be for naught.”

  Frustration warred inside Anthony. He’d told her to do what she wanted, but his own desires were kept at bay. Just because she was right didn’t mean he had to like it. “I will sneak back into my own home if you will promise to allow me to escort you in to dinner.”

  “You should escort your mother to the table, or your mother and aunt.”

  A growl he’d been holding in made its way up from deep in his chest. “All these rules will make me a madman. Let’s just break them all.”

  Hearing her laughter was worth all his frustration. “No. I will find my own way in, and you will make a good impression for society. It’s better that way.”

  The joy in her voice drew him closer. “Won’t you ask me for that kiss? In that dress, with high color in your cheeks, you look delectable, Sylvie.”

  “I… No, Tony. I will not ask for a kiss again. It’s for the best.” Skirting him, she ran up the steps, across the veranda and into the ballroom.

  Anthony walked the torch-lit path that wound through his garden.

  Daniel, Earl of Marlton, stepped out of the shadows, smoking a cigar. “I’m sorry to intrude on your privacy. I thought it better to keep to the shadows until the lady had gone.”

  “Did you hear all of that?” He was horrified that he might have made a fool of himself.

  “No, you both spoke too low, but it seemed like a serious conversation.” He walked along with Anthony.

  “I suppose it was more so to me than to the lady. You could have made yourself known, Dan.” The air grew heavy. His heart lay just as heavy with no idea how he would win Sylvia.

  “I think it will rain again.”

  Anthony walked farther into the garden. “It will, but not for a little while, I think.”

  Keeping pace with him, Daniel said, “You know, if you want her, there is nothing stopping you.”

  “Only the lady herself.”

  “I see. If she does not like you, then you might have to accept that you cannot have her.” Daniel puffed on his cigar, but it had gone out. Sighing, he tossed the stub away.

  “She likes me, but she has ideas of what is an appropriate match, and Lord March’s treatment of her has sullied her opinion of men with titles.”

  “I see.”

  “This is my problem, Dan. No need to sound so grave. I didn’t want to marry, so having the woman I want thwart me will not change the outcome of my life.”

  Daniel stopped and observed the sky. The first drop fell and hit the path between them. “Best if we return before we get soaked.”

  They rushed back toward the house and onto the abandoned veranda.

  Stopping before the French doors to the ballroom, Daniel turned to Anthony. “A broken heart can change a life forever. I hope you will make an effort to change the lady’s mind. She is a fine girl. Don’t let her lack of title or connections turn you into a fool.”

  In the ballroom, the dancing was at its height and the colorful guests were like confections moving around the floor. If Anthony hadn’t been so frustrated with his situation, he would have enjoyed the sight more. As it was, he wished they would all go home, and he could have Sylvia to himself.

  Chapter 11

  Sylvia had to find a way to make Anthony see that his pity was not needed or warranted. She would be fine, and his attention would do neither of them any good. How she was going to convince him, she didn’t know. Perhaps he would just lose interest or one of the ladies who distracted him in the past would come forward.

  Still pondering Anthony’s behavior, she missed the approach of her mother until Felicia was standing directly in front of her.

  With her lips pursed in typical disappointment, and her hands perched on her hips, Mother said, “Please tell me that you did not insult a viscount.”

  It grated on Sylvia that Mother felt she could still badger her, even after she’d moved out of the house and was supporting herself. “To what are you referring, Mother?”

  “You know exactly what I am referring to. Did you thwart an attempt to make amends by Lord March?”

  Serena and Lord Stansfield inched closer until they flanked Sylvia.

  Meanwhile, Sir Henry Parker stood just over Mother’s shoulder.

  “If you are asking if I refused to dance with a man who publicly humiliated me, then the answer is yes. I have no intention of accepting any kind of amends from Hunter Gautier. I would rather be flogged in the town square.”

  Lord Stansfield covered a laugh.

  Sir Henry frowned. “You would do well to get into Lord March’s good graces again. He is a peer and has many friends. Besides, if you married him, even after all the gossip, all would be forgiven.”

  Mother nodded. “At least someone sees my point.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sylvia stayed her gathering temper. “Mother, I love and respect you, but your point is moot. I will never marry that miserable sod. In his social climbing efforts, he recently engaged himself to Miss Smyth. So you see, his intentions toward me are not honorable in the least.”

  Serena gasped. “Mother, you have to admit, Lord March behaved very badly in the past. You cannot blame Sylvia for holding a grudge against him. His transgressions would be impossible for anyone to forgive.”

  “He�
�s a viscount, Serena. I would think your sister could forgive him if he is willing to renew his interest.” Felicia stomped her foot.

  “He is engaged, Mother. Are you proposing I become his mistress?” Sylvia’s temper could not hold on much longer.

  Lord Stansfield cleared his throat and placed a hand on Serena’s arm for only an instant. His voice was soft but deep and firm. “I know that I am an outsider, ladies, but this conversation is drawing attention from the crowd. Perhaps you might continue it another time in private.”

  Looking around, Sylvia noted several people had turned to watch the altercation. “Thank you, my lord. You are correct. This is not the time or the place for such talk. Mother, I will see you at tea on Tuesday, and you may berate me to your heart’s content at that time.”

  Serena followed Sylvia to the hallway and into Anthony’s office. Once the door was closed, she sighed. “You did the right thing, Sylvie. He’s a horrible man, and I would hate it if you married him.”

  “Thank you. At least someone is on my side.”

  Serena took her hands. “I will always be on your side. I should have been stronger with Mother when you first left home, but I was so used to agreeing with her. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Hugging her twin, Sylvia said, “There is nothing to forgive. You had to stay and live with her. Enough about Mother. I quite like your Lord Stansfield. Not only does he have a sense of humor, but he handled Mother wonderfully.”

  Blushing, Serena got a dreamy look in her eyes. “He is rather wonderful.” She frowned. “I am liking Sir Henry less and less. In fact, the more Mother likes him, the less I do.”

  “Do you think Lord Stansfield will offer?” Sylvia would love for Serena to find someone to make her happy.

  She shrugged. “I think he likes me, but there is a shyness about him. It could take him a while to offer, and I fear Mother and Sir Henry are still conspiring.”

  “I have seated you next to his lordship for dinner. Perhaps you might use all of your charm.”

  They both laughed.

  “Thank you, Sylvie. You are my best champion. I wish I could be as strong as you.”