LITMIR.BIZ

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thought of Beau Russington with his dark looks and careless charm and felt her stomach swoop.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘I really do.’

      * * *

      Sir Gerald and his friends were waiting for them in the drawing room. With the exception of Mrs Molyneux, Miss Kilburn’s aged companion, they had all been present at the assembly where introductions had been made. As greetings were exchanged, Molly took the opportunity to study the company. She had been reassured at the assembly to see that Mrs Sykes and Lady Claydon were homely matrons, while Agnes Kilburn and the Misses Claydon had soon been at ease and mixing with the young ladies of the town. They were all very lively, but not at all the dashing sirens she had feared. This second meeting appeared to confirm her view, which was a relief, and she turned her attention to the gentlemen. Their host, Sir Gerald, was the most genial looking of them all, while Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington were the most flamboyant in their dress. But there could be no doubt they were all very fashionable—the cut of their clothes, the number of fobs and seals and the intricacies of their cravats had made them stand out at the recent assembly.

      All except Beau Russington. She had been too agitated at their first encounter to appreciate why he was considered a leader of fashion, but here, in the elegant drawing room of Newlands, she had the opportunity to make a calm appraisal of the man. It did not take her long to realise that although he was not as showily dressed as his friends, his style was far superior. At least to her inexperienced eye. There was a simplicity to his dress, but nothing shabby in the superb cut of his clothes. Not a wrinkle marred the perfection of the dark evening coat stretched across his broad shoulders. It fitted him so well she wondered how many servants it had taken to ease him into it.

      A plain white waistcoat was buttoned across his chest and she refused to allow her gaze to linger on the close-fitting breeches that sheathed narrow hips and powerful thighs. She quickly raised her eyes to take in the snowy neckcloth, intricately tied and with a single diamond winking from amongst the exquisite folds. The study of his cravat took her eyes to the countenance above it. A lean face, darkly handsome with a sensuous curve to the mouth. At that moment, as if aware of her scrutiny, the beau turned to look at her and her cool assessment came to an abrupt end.

      Even from the other side of the room she felt the power of his gaze. Those dark, almost-black eyes skewered her to the spot and caused her pulse to race. Not only that, excitement flickered deep inside, like flames licking hungrily at dry tinder. She looked away quickly, shocked to realise that he had awoken sensations she had never wanted to feel again.

      Sir Gerald was addressing her and she forced her mind to concentrate on his words. She exchanged pleasantries with his sister and then joined in a conversation with Mrs Sykes and Lady Claydon while the gentlemen discussed the day’s shooting until dinner was announced.

      Molly found herself seated at Sir Gerald’s right hand, with Sir Joseph Aikers beside her. Mr Russington, she was relieved to see, was sitting opposite her brother at the far end of the table. She did not think she would have enjoyed her meal half as much if the beau had been sitting beside her. Sir Joseph might be a fribble and a painted fop—as some people so cruelly described him—but Molly soon discovered he was exceedingly good-natured and assiduous of her comfort, ensuring her glass was filled and that she had her pick of the succulent dishes on offer.

      The food was excellent and the conversation interesting. No awkward subjects were broached and Molly began to relax. These were cultured, educated people who knew how to set a guest at ease. Perhaps she had been magnifying the dangers they posed. Just as that thought occurred to her, Edwin laughed and she glanced down the table towards him. After his day of sport, her brother was clearly upon easy terms with the gentlemen. Mr Russington was looking her way and he caught and held her gaze. Molly’s heart began to race again. She felt trapped, like a wild animal, in thrall to a predator. With an effort, she dragged her eyes away, realising the danger was all too real. At least where one man was concerned.

      Her appetite was quite gone and she was relieved when Miss Kilburn invited the ladies to withdraw. Molly intended to sit with Lady Claydon and Mrs Sykes, but when they reached the drawing room Miss Kilburn and the Misses Claydon were determined that she should perform for them.

      ‘Your brother was eager that we should hear you play upon the pianoforte, Mrs Morgan,’ explained Miss Claydon, opening the instrument and beckoning to Molly to sit down. ‘He told us you are most proficient and that you sing, too.’

      ‘Such praise,’ murmured Molly, vowing to give Edwin a trimming as soon as they were alone. ‘I am very much afraid I shall disappoint you.’

      Harriet Claydon gave a trill of laughter. ‘I doubt that, ma’am. Judith and I are both hopeless, despite Mama insisting that we have the best of teachers.’

      ‘Sadly that is very true,’ agreed Lady Claydon, shaking her head. ‘We spent a fortune upon their education and they can neither of them do more than play a few simple pieces. Miss Kilburn, however, is very accomplished.’

      Molly drew back in favour of her hostess, but Miss Kilburn was quick to decline.

      She said shyly, ‘We should very much like to hear you play, Mrs Morgan.’

      Molly took her place at the piano. Perhaps it would be as well to play now, before the gentlemen came in. She played a couple of short pieces and, when urged to sing, she rattled off a lively folk song, before concluding her performance with an Italian love song. Her audience were generous in their praise, but when she could not be persuaded to play more, Agnes Kilburn took her place and Molly retired to sit with the older ladies, relieved that she was no longer the focus of attention.

      She hoped that might be the case for the rest of the evening, but it was not to be. When the gentlemen came in, the conversation turned towards Newlands.

      ‘Many of our friends were against my purchasing such an out-of-the-way place,’ said Sir Gerald cheerfully. ‘Including the beau here. Ain’t that right, Russ?’

      ‘I was.’ Mr Russington moved a little closer to the group. ‘After all, there are good places to hunt that are much closer to London.

      ‘Aye,’ declared Mr Flemington, coming up. ‘These provincial towns can be the very devil for entertainment. Not Compton Parva, you understand,’ he added hastily, with a bow towards Edwin and Molly. ‘The assembly at the King’s Head last week was as good as any I have attended outside London.’

      ‘Well, I do not regret my choice,’ declared their host. ‘It may be a long way north, but what is a few days’ travel, compared to the sport that is to be had here? No, I am delighted with my new hunting lodge and glad now that I did not allow myself to be dissuaded.’

      Edwin laughed heartily. ‘Did you expect to find only savages in Knaresborough, Kilburn? I admit I had the same reaction from my friends and acquaintances when I accepted the living here. But I am very much at home, you know. And I vow it provides some of the best riding in the country.’

      ‘Yes, I grant you, if your taste is for rugged grandeur,’ put in Sir Joseph Aikers, waving one hand. ‘You cannot deny the weather here is less clement than the south. And the mud.’ He gave a comical grimace that made his companions laugh.

      ‘In the main we are very favourably impressed,’ declared Mrs Sykes. ‘It is true the journey was a trifle wearisome. But Kilburn has made the house very comfortable and the townspeople of Compton Parva are most welcoming.’

      ‘We are relieved to have Newlands occupied at last and not only for the enlargement of good society,’ Edwin told her with a smile. ‘It provides occupation for local people and business for our tradesmen. That must always be welcome.’

      ‘There is one thing that surprised me,’ remarked Lady Claydon. She hesitated and glanced towards the pianoforte, where her daughters and Miss Kilburn were engaged in singing together. ‘I had not expected to find a house here for females of a certain order.’

      ‘My wife means the magdalens,’ declared Lord Claydon. ‘I admit I was surprised when I heard of it—one usually

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