Before she could suppress her disappointment, he said, ‘Now wait, I do remember. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, but his father, Viscount Chilford, later took him up and sponsored him in Parliament.’
‘Does he resemble his father in appearance—is that why the Viscount decided to recognise him?’ she probed.
‘Chilford’s a member of my club. Can’t say as I’ve met the son, but I’ve heard the boy favours him. Tall, dark-haired, green eyes. Quite a magnet for the ladies. A group of rogues, all in all.’ Lord Fulton chuckled. ‘M’wife would blister my ears for repeating such scandalous gossip to an innocent like you!’
‘I’ll not mention we spoke of it!’ Alyssa promised as she tucked away the details.
Tall, dark-haired, green-eyed and a magnet for the ladies?
The description certainly fitted! Desire fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she recalled the gaze that had held her spellbound. That final bit of evidence was enough to convince her that the gentleman in the woods had in fact been Benedict Tawny.
Pleased to have elicited so much information, she said, ‘I’ve disturbed your peace long enough. Thank you, Lord Fulton!’
Bidding her host good day, Alyssa walked out to join the rest of the party.
* * *
The scrutiny of both the ladies and gentlemen who turned to inspect her as she entered immediately made her conscious of her new attire. In comparison, the style Alyssa found so unflattering on her short form only emphasised the tall, elegant figure of the waspish Lady Sunderland’s daughter, Lady Alice. With her lovely face, sky-blue eyes and golden curls set under a wide-brimmed hat, she looked like the illustration of perfect maidenly beauty from the latest lady’s fashion magazine.
Which made it all the more suspicious that, rather than lingering with the other men beside the Paragon, as soon as she entered, Quinlen and Rossiter hastened over to her.
‘Lady Alyssa, at last! The party was dreadfully dull until you appeared,’ Quinlen said.
‘And what a lovely gown! You look so...fashionable,’ Rossiter added.
Normally, Alyssa responded to compliments from a gentleman in monosyllables and evaded his company as soon as possible. This time, she fluttered her lashes at Rossiter and tried to manufacture a blush. ‘Oh, do you really think so?’
‘Absolutely! The prettiest lady here,’ Rossiter said.
Since that was patently untrue, Alyssa had to suppress a strong desire to roll her eyes. Instead, she peeped shyly up at him. ‘You are very kind, Mr Rossiter!’
‘Merely truthful, Lady Alyssa. Lady Fulton is about to begin a game of charades in the salon. Won’t you join me?’ He offered his arm.
‘She ought to accompany me,’ Quinlen said. ‘I’m a much cleverer partner.’
‘Oh, dear!’ Alyssa said, putting her hands to her cheeks in mock distress. ‘I shouldn’t wish to slight either of you!’
‘Give an arm to each, then,’ Quinlen said, offering his.
‘I’m really not very good at charades,’ she added, assuming the role of bashful wallflower they expected. ‘You gentlemen would do better partnering another lady.’
‘Nonsense, there’s no one here I would prefer to you,’ Quinlen said.
‘Quite true!’ Rossiter added.
Embarrassed in truth at all the falsehoods being exchanged, she had no trouble summoning a blush. ‘Well, if you are quite sure you want my company...’
As both gentlemen waited expectantly, Alyssa gave a hand to each and allowed them to walk her to the salon. Since they didn’t think her witty enough to add much to the conversation, she was able to get by with murmuring a few ‘yesses’ and ‘nos’ as they entertained her with London gossip.
She made a great show of refusing to participate in the charades, and when finally ‘persuaded’ to play, was so hopeless at giving or interpreting clues that her mother, speechless at the abysmal performance of her normally needle-witted daughter, pulled her aside to ask in an undertone whether she felt quite well.
‘I’m fine, Mama,’ she whispered back. ‘I didn’t wish to outdo the other participants, especially not when Mr Quinlen and Mr Rossiter are showing me such flattering attention. Haven’t you always told me gentlemen don’t truly wish for intelligence in a wife?’
‘Yes, but you’ve never before paid me any heed,’ Lady Aldermont replied.
The game broke up, and with the day turned warm and fair, plans were being made to walk in the garden when Lady Fulton announced a newcomer was joining them. Striding into the parlour came Lord Denbry, greeting his hostess and apologising for making a tardy arrival at her party. As he bent to whisper something in her ear that made her blush, his gaze roved the room—before finding, and resting on, Alyssa.
She didn’t have to feign the heat that touched her cheeks at his blatantly appraising glance. So this was Denbry, her brother’s detested competitor for winning women, games of chance and eager acolytes. Though she’d never met him, she’d heard enough about him from her brother to have been on her guard, even without Mr Tawny’s warning.
Above medium height, dressed in the vanguard of fashion in a coat flared at the shoulder and nipped in at the waist, he looked wealthy, handsome and arrogant. She already knew that he, like her brother, used those good looks to charm hapless women out of their virtue and induce gentlemen to grant him whatever he desired.
And what he currently desired, apparently, was to see her ruined.
If Mr Tawny hadn’t been so persuasive, she’d have found it almost impossible to believe this stranger would casually plan to destroy her. If she could prove to herself that was truly his intent, it might be time he was taught a salutatory lesson.
He wasn’t the only one who could plot.
As she watched covertly, he made a circuit of the room, letting each lady bask in his charming smile and tossing greetings to the competing swains that changed their resentful looks to pleasant, if not entirely friendly, nods.
Not until he’d greeted everyone else did he approach Alyssa.
‘Quinlen, Rossiter, good to see you,’ he said, shaking both gentlemen’s hands. ‘I’ve left the best for last. Won’t one of you introduce me to this ravishing creature?’
A good ploy—if she were a woman whose interest he wanted to pique. A wallflower who’d wistfully watched his progress around the room, knowing she hadn’t the wit or beauty to catch his notice, and therefore shocked and thrilled to have attracted it. That unjustified bit of flattery seemed to reinforce that enticing her was exactly what he intended.
‘Lady Alyssa Lambornne, may I present the Earl of Denbry?’ Rossiter dutifully pronounced.
She dropped a curtsy, ready to resume playing her part. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Lord Denbry,’ she said, trying to imbue her voice with just the right tone of flustered gratification. ‘Although you are far too kind! I know I’m not...ravishing.’
She gazed up at him, aiming for the pleading expression of one who knows better, but hopes to be persuaded anyway that the gentleman finds her attractive.
‘You are to me,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her hand.
Knowing his intentions, at the press of his lips against her fingers she almost jerked away. Catching herself, she uttered instead a little ‘ooh’ of gratification.
If she hadn’t been forewarned, she might have missed the knowing smile that passed between Quinlen and Rossiter.
Were most females so self-deceiving? she wondered with disgust.