Cavendish Brothers 02 - To Enchant an Icy Earl (2 page)

But clearly that was the problem. One
of the problems, at least.

So he nodded curtly. “Quite so. Would
you both join me tomorrow for supper at Fordingham
House?”

The change in Fordingham’s tactic
seemed to take Wesley thoroughly by surprise. His eyes lost their
squint, widening in shock for the briefest of moments. Then he
recovered himself long enough to growl, “Why?”

Then it was Fordingham’s turn for
surprise. Mrs. Cavendish reached around from behind Wesley, placing
her hand cautiously on his. He gentled instantly, losing all of the
fight that had him bowed up before he looked lovingly down into her
eyes.

She gave him a slight, tremulous smile
with an entreaty in her gaze, and then she turned to Fordingham.
“We would be honored to join you, my lord.”

Wesley ground his jaw hard enough that
the action was almost audible over the din of the soiree. He stared
down at his wife, questioning her with a scowl, yet she did not
cower beneath him. And then he nodded with a long exhalation, the
same curt nod that Fordingham had long since perfected.

There was at least one thing the two
had in common other than their parentage. With any small amount of
fortune, perhaps there would be more.

“
We’ll be there.” His lips
twitched as he said it. Surely, agreeing to anything Fordingham had
requested did not sit well with the younger brother. This
discomfort did not stop Wesley from relenting to his wife’s will,
however.

What would it be like to care so
deeply for a woman that one would willingly do things one would
rather gouge out one’s eyes than do otherwise?

Fordingham did not have long to ponder
such anomalies. Mrs. Cavendish gave a brief curtsey, and then
Wesley whisked her away before they could say anything
else.

He stared after them, watching them
disappear into the crush.

When he could see them no longer, a
woman stepped into the path they’d just vacated—a woman with a pair
of eyes so clear and blue and luminous, he was left shaken to the
core. Fordingham had been certain he’d never see that particular
shade again in his life after he’d left Greece. They were the color
of the sea, clear enough he felt he could see all the way down to
the depths of her soul as he’d once seen the very floor of the
ocean.

He stood there,
dumbfounded, as she started across the room.
Toward him
, of all people. Try as he
might, Fordingham could not take his eyes from her: her lush,
near-black hair; her rich skin, so unlike anything he expected to
find whilst surrounded by so many ladies with their pale, English
rose complexions; the soft, sloping curves of her hips and waist
and breasts.

She was a vision from a dream, a
mirage, beckoning him to drink from a pool which did not
exist.

And she stilled directly before
him.

His heart stopped and, for what must
be the first time in his life, he could not take a breath—until she
smiled, directly up at him, her full lips stretching almost
seductively. Warmth billowed over him like sunrise over the Greek
sea. Life flooded back into him so quickly it left him
terrified.

She leaned in close to his ear and
whispered, “I should like for you to seek an introduction to me, my
lord. Lady Marston is my chaperone tonight.”

At this moment in time, Fordingham
would have done anything she wanted. Just as Wesley would do
anything his wife desired.

This was not what he had bargained for
in attending this soiree. For the first time in his life,
Fordingham was absolutely, unequivocally terrified.

With her heart thudding against the
walls of her chest and a furious blush heating her cheeks, Calista
Bartlett turned as calmly as she could and made her way back across
the room so she could once again stand next to her new
sister-in-law. On her way, she selected a glass of orgeat from a
footman’s tray in order to excuse her brief disappearance, wishing
it was apple brandy or sherry, or something equally as strong, but
orgeat would have to suffice.

Lord only knew where the audacity to
speak so brazenly to Lord Fordingham had come from.

What had she just done? It went
thoroughly against her nature to beg an introduction to a gentleman
she didn’t know.

But she’d been watching Lord
Fordingham since her arrival an hour ago. Unlike so many of the
other gentlemen present, he did not behave in a garish, outlandish
manner. He was reserved. He stood to the side and kept his voice
down to a respectable level. He did not accost young ladies, and
then openly and outrageously flirt with them before moving on to
the next, and then do the same all over again.

No, he simply stood there
against the wall, straight and austere, calmly scanning the room
with his hands clasped behind his back. While he may dress in the
current fashions as dictated by society, there was nothing else
particularly
fashionable
about him—which was precisely the reason Calista
knew he would be the perfect gentleman for whom she should set her
cap.

He was
nothing—
nothing
—like Lord Ellis. Lord Fordingham would not leave her
heartbroken by running off to Gretna Green with her dearest friend,
simply because Calista was in mourning and unable to participate in
social activities alongside him.

Not that she was still in mourning at
the moment, but that was beside the point.

The point was that Ellis ought to have
stood beside her during her grief, but instead he ran off and found
someone with whom to replace her. The only way he could have hurt
her more thoroughly than he had done would have been to run off
with Miranda or Penelope, one of her sisters, instead of her most
especial friend. But if he would be willing to do that while the
Bartlett family was in mourning, why wouldn’t he take Calista
instead of a sister?

Alas, he had not run off with Calista,
nor with either of her sisters. He’d run off with Valetta
Norton—despite his previous insistence that Calista break all ties
with the girl. He’d done the very last thing she ever would have
expected of him.

Lord Fordingham, on the other hand,
was precisely what one thought him to be upon watching
him.

Stoic. Staid. Steady.

Exactly what Calista
wanted.

Louisa, her new sister-in-law, smiled
gently at her as she drew near, her blonde curls bouncing in the
candlelight. “Where have you been off to?”

Calista quickly took a sip of her
orgeat and grimaced as she swallowed, though she did savor the burn
threading its way through her body. Should she tell Louisa the
truth of what she’d done? She still didn’t know Devlin’s new bride
all that well, and so she had no means of predicting how Louisa
would react, but lying had never sat well with her.

Still, that didn’t mean the entire
roomful of people needed to know what she’d done. She leaned close
to her sister-in-law and kept her voice low. “I just asked Lord
Fordingham to request an introduction to me.”

That revelation removed the smile from
Louisa’s countenance altogether. She pulled Calista into the
nearest corner where they could have some privacy and whispered
heatedly, “Lord Fordingham? But why ever would you do something
like that?” She sounded scandalized by Calista’s admission, and her
eyes held a touch of fear, unless Calista was very much mistaken on
that score. Why on earth would she be afraid of the man?

Calista wasn’t given the opportunity
to respond or do more than merely wonder about Louisa’s fears. Lord
Fordingham, as if on command, had followed her through the throng
and was now by Louisa’s side.

“
Lady Marston, kindly
introduce me to the young lady beside you.” An order, not a
request, and one delivered with all the authority of the
king.

Calista shivered slightly at the note
of power in his tone, the surety with which he conducted himself.
She shivered even more fully at the slight detachment in his
demeanor. His visage held no expression whatsoever, no emotion save
perhaps bored indifference.

Was she certain this was
what she wanted—that
he
was what she wanted?

And yet, he
had
followed after her.
He’d done as she asked him to do, even without knowing who she was
or why she wanted him to do anything at all. Surely that must count
for something, shouldn’t it?

Louisa bristled at his commanding
tone. As well she should—her grandfather was the Duke of Danby, for
goodness’s sake. Nevertheless, she turned and did as the earl bade
her. “Miss Calista Bartlett, this is the Earl of Fordingham. Lord
Fordingham, meet Miss Bartlett.”

Calista dipped her head quickly. “My
lord,” she murmured, thoroughly flummoxed that she’d done something
so audacious as to orchestrate this meeting. All her newfound
confidence had fled her in the last few moments.

Calista was the eldest Bartlett
sister, but she was also the most hesitant Bartlett sister—the one
who always wanted to know every tiny detail of something before she
made any plans. She was the shy one who would prefer to blend into
her surroundings instead of standing out. But this time, she’d not
allowed herself to think of the consequences of her actions before
she’d run off and acted. This time, she’d been bold.

It sent a thrill of awareness up her
spine to know that she’d had the courage to do such a thing.
Another one raced along after it as she realized that her boldness
had garnered positive results.

Miranda and Penny would never let her
hear the end of it.

Then Lord Fordingham met Calista’s
eyes and he bowed low to her, never removing his gaze from her
person. “Miss Bartlett.” His eyes were dark, foreboding almost,
though she couldn’t quite make out their color beneath his sandy
hair and black beaver hat. His straight nose and square jaw matched
his outward demeanor—hard and unyielding.

Was he so unflappable in every aspect
of his life?

As he straightened, she allowed
herself to examine him more closely than she had when he’d been
across the room. Then she immediately thought that perhaps she
shouldn’t have done so. There was nothing even slightly gentle
about this man. His broad chest and immense height bespoke the same
power revealed in every level, measured word from his
mouth.

They stood there for a few moments,
staring at one another, until a rather flustered Louisa pushed a
stray blonde hair over her ear and tucked it away. She looked at
Calista as though for guidance, but what sort of guidance could she
give? Louisa was the chaperone in this situation, not the other way
around.

A moment later, Louisa mumbled, “My
lord, if you would care to take Miss Bartlett for a turn about the
room, I suppose that would be acceptable.” She did not seem overly
pleased with herself, or with Calista, for this sequence of
events.

Her suggestion seemed to startle them
both back to the present. Or at least it startled Calista. Lord
Fordingham did not appear to be discomposed in the least. Could
anything take him by surprise?

He held out his arm to her. “Yes. Come
with me.”

Again, it was issued as an order and
not a question. Lord Fordingham must be a man very used to being
obeyed. That wasn’t altogether surprising, considering he was an
earl. But Papa had never been so cold or callous. Nor had Calista’s
eldest brother, Simeon, before his unexpected passing. They had
both been good men who’d treated everyone fairly and with a great
deal of care.

Devlin, who was now the unforeseen
head of the family, had his moments of extreme exasperation, which
seemed to be growing in frequency of late…but those were due more
to his frustrations with Calista and her sisters.

He had been the spare, after all—not
the heir. None of this should have been placed upon his shoulders,
and yet it suddenly all had been.

Calista brushed those thoughts aside
and placed her hand in the crook of Fordingham’s arm. She’d barely
wrapped her head around what she was doing before he’d taken off,
confidently directing her along beside him with his quiet
authority.