An Innocent Proposal. Helen Dickson

      With James in front of them Timothy took Louisa’s hand, feeling her fingers tremble. Passing through the doorway, they made their entry into the gilded interior. He bent close to her ear. “You look lovely,” he whispered reassuringly. “Are you still determined to go through with this—even though James is bound to find out? And don’t forget that anything connected with Lord Dunstan becomes instant gossip and spreads like wildfire. If you succeed, and when it’s discovered you are James’s sister, you will become the focus of a scandal. Can you cope with that?”

      “I have had four years of learning to cope, Timothy,” she replied with bitter irony. “Having to deal with relentless adversity has made me strong and taught me to hold my head high. I shall not let a scandal worry me unduly if I can hold onto Bierlow Hall.”

      She cast an eye over the assembled groups, knowing Lord Dunstan was present but unable to see him just then—and the prospect of seeing him, extremely conscious of the purpose of her being there, set her treacherous pulses racing. With a natural grace and a serene smile on her lips, she felt an odd sensation of unreality.

      As they entered further into the large, extremely grand and impressive marble hallway, with huge polished doors opening into sumptuously furnished rooms beyond, the sheer magnitude and beauty of the house seemed overwhelming and utterly breathtaking. It shone with the brilliance of hundreds of candles. Mirrors glowed with refracted light from the crystal and diamonds strewn around the bare throats of women. An army of exquisitely attired footmen in scarlet and gold moved among the guests, bearing silver trays balancing sparkling glasses of champagne.

      Breathing deeply and glancing at the assembled guests, Louisa suddenly found herself the object of dozens of pairs of eyes. It was as though she stood in a blazing light as everyone seemed to turn towards her. Every male and female, young and old, seemed to focus on her, some staring frankly while others looked at her with unconcealed curiosity. Many of the gentlemen looked with open admiration, and several of the ladies with barely concealed hostility, having already seen her at Lady Bricknell’s house two evenings earlier and perceiving her as the first really serious competition in months.

      To Louisa the company appeared to be very much the same as it had been at Bricknell House. There was a sense of glamour about the gathering, yet it seemed more subdued somehow, rather than a rout. But no doubt at some time later in the evening, when the liquor reached their heads and loosened any inhibitions they might possess, the guests would sit down to cards, by which time Louisa hoped she would have accomplished her purpose and they could leave.

      Suddenly her smile froze on her lips and she became oblivious to all else as her gaze became locked on a pair of exceptionally vivid blue eyes across the hall. Lord Dunstan was just emerging from a room with Lady Bricknell by his side. Without taking his eyes off Louisa, he murmured something to his companion, who followed his gaze and seemed to smile knowingly and with a good deal of satisfaction, before drifting from his side to speak to someone else—and Louisa would have been astonished to learn that Lady Bricknell’s invitations to James and Timothy to attend her supper and card parties, in the hope that eventually Louisa would appear, had borne fruit at last.

      With a growing sense of alarm and a general feeling of unease, Louisa watched Lord Dunstan start towards them with long, purposeful strides, seeming to grow larger as he neared, his eyes compelling. His black suit was immaculate and without a crease in the fabric stretched across his strong shoulders, his cravat and white silk stockings dazzling white. His presence was inescapable. He overshadowed the room and his guests parted to let him pass, his eyes searching Louisa’s face, his expression one of slight amusement and something which, to Louisa’s indignation, looked very much like triumph.

      Her flesh grew hot and a tremor passed through her now she was face to face with him once more. A smile of frank admiration gleamed in his eyes when he looked at her, his sternly handsome face stamped with nobility and pride, his powerful, muscular body emanating raw power and sensuality. At any other time, had any other man looked at her in the manner Lord Dunstan looked at her, she would have been extremely insulted and been tempted to slap his face. But, remembering the farce she was to play out to the bitter end, she swallowed her pride and gave him a ravishing smile, lighting her eyes with intelligence.

      “I’m so glad you could come, Mr Fraser—Mr Hacket,” Alistair said, and when he spoke the sheer, concentrated power of his presence was vividly apparent. His greeting embraced all three, but his gaze rested on Louisa. “And you, too, Miss Divine,” he murmured, fascinated by her, noticing how her face captured and absorbed the soft glow of the candles.

      There was a serenity of expression and stillness that hung about her like an aura, and seeing her again was an experience he had not sufficiently prepared himself for. She was beautiful, far more beautiful than any woman present, and she intrigued him, troubled him, and his instinct told him that hidden desires were at play beneath the thin layer of respectability. She was still yet watchful amidst the hive of gossip, her face settled in cool, unblinking remoteness, which distinctly whispered “Don’t touch’.

      “Is it your intention to exact revenge later, Fraser—to recoup what you lost to me two nights ago?”

      Unhappy and pale, James managed to smile, but there was no disguising his anxiety as he cast a swift glance at his sister, licking his lips nervously and saying, as if prompted, which did not go unnoticed by Alistair, “No, not this evening, Lord Dunstan. Tonight I intend to refrain from any form of gambling. I shall be a passive observer, nothing more.”

      Lord Dunstan nodded slightly, not really surprised. If the man was as impoverished as he suspected then he could ill afford to run up any more debts. He had met a lot of men like James Fraser—reckless young fools, prepared to risk everything over a game of cards or the throw of a dice. “Very wise, sir. Very wise.”

      “You—you have a beautiful house, Lord Dunstan,” remarked Louisa in an attempt to draw the conversation away from gambling.

      He shifted his gaze back to her. She had the look of a girl, but he felt she was a woman in every sense of that meaningful word, and yet she seemed incredibly unsoiled. She possessed a poise and dignity that was absent in most of the women present, and she was sexually elegant and extremely desirable in her crimson dress, bearing no resemblance to the rather prim young woman he had encountered in St Paul’s Church two months earlier and more recently at Mr Brewster’s bookshop.

      The moment he had looked into her eyes she had assaulted his senses and he had become determined to possess her. But who was she, he wondered, and why hadn’t he seen her before if she was Fraser’s mistress? And was she as unfamiliar to Charles Meredith as she would have him believe? After seeing them together in St James’s Park, he was beginning to doubt it.

      “Thank you. It would give me great pleasure to show you around later—if you like.”

      “Why—yes. I’d love to,” she replied.

      He left to greet more of his guests who continued to arrive, but Louisa had the impression that his attention never left her.