Shattered Dreams (4 page)

“Of course you didn’t. And I didn’t take it that way.”

Elly put on a brave face and gave her hair a final pat. She knew the twins had nothing to worry about. Charfield wouldn’t pay her a moment’s attention once he saw her make her way across a room.

“Have you come to escort me down?” Elly asked, scooting to the edge of her chair.

Both sisters moved closer to assist her, Patience on her left and Lilly on her right.

Elly slowly stood then steadied herself before taking the cane Patience held out to her. With an uneven gait, she walked across the room. Her limp was pronounced and forced her hip to swing to the left. Her left arm had a tendency to move outward, making her appear clumsy.

She hated how her body shifted unnaturally with each step, how even her shoulder dipped, but at least most of those present at the party were familiar with her awkwardness. Her inelegance wouldn’t be too uncomfortable for them to be around. At least for one night.

She stepped out the door and hobbled down the steps.

Tonight would be the worst. After he saw her and...knew, she could go back to being an invisible part of the gathering. It was only two weeks, after all. Surely she could survive that.

And there was one positive aspect to Harrison’s party. Even though she wouldn’t be the female on whom the very handsome Earl of Charfield chose to shower his attention, she’d at least be able to look at him and...dream.

Chapter 4

Brent gave his shirt sleeves a firm tug beneath his black evening jacket, then left his guest room to make his way to the drawing room where everyone would meet to socialize before dinner was served. His part in this two-week play was about to begin. And if there was anything Brent knew how to do, it was play a part.

In fact, he’d played the role of the rake and carefree rogue so long he wasn’t sure he knew the real Brentan Montgomery, Earl of Charfield, any longer.

Even though no one in Society would ever believe it, his dream had always been to settle down with a woman he loved and raise a houseful of happy children. But after years of unsuccessful searching, he’d given up all hope of finding any such woman. And he refused to marry a woman he didn’t love and be miserable for the rest of his life.

Oh, his name was still at the top of every matchmaking mama’s list, and he was considered one of the most sought-after bachelors in London. But when not one of the hoards of beautiful young ladies he’d met over the years roused even a hint of desire, he’d turned his attention to adding to his stable of Arabians instead of finding someone with whom he could be happy.

His role at Fellingsdown’s party was just another part he had to play to add another treasure to his collection. And for such a magnificent prize, Brent was willing to endure anything. It was only two weeks, after all. He’d survived years of courting the dullest, most dim-witted females Society had to offer. Fellingsdown’s sister couldn’t be any worse.

Could she?

He bolstered his resolve and stepped confidently down the right side of the winding double staircase with a long-perfected smile on his face. Even if she were the most hideous creature imaginable, the prize at the end of two weeks was worth any amount of boredom he’d have to endure. He couldn’t wait until next spring for Danza to present him a colt sired by the magnificent El Solidar.

His smile broadened and he stepped down the stairs with a jaunty air. The closer he got to the bottom, the louder the laughter and the buzz of conversation grew. By the time he reached the drawing room door, he was prepared to play his part.

Armed with the ease for which he was known, he stepped inside the room and looked around. There was laughter and conversation aplenty and Brent felt a momentary sense of relief that the two-week party hosted by Fellingsdown seemed to be on its way to becoming a pleasant affair.

He stepped into the room and to the side, thankful no one noticed his arrival. His obscurity would give him an opportunity to observe the guests and hopefully spot the woman he’d been hired to entertain for the next fourteen days. She would no doubt be easy to find.

From the number already gathered, he assumed most of the guests had already arrived. But he didn’t see a female so lacking in physical attributes that Fellingsdown had to bribe someone to escort her.

He stepped further inside and scanned the perimeter of the room a second time. Fellingsdown stood by an open window with his brother George. There were two very striking women in their small circle that he recognized from several of the balls he’d attended. Neither was the sister he’d been hired to accompany.

Fellingsdown’s other brothers, Jules and Spencer, stood on the opposite side of the room talking to another group. One of Fellingsdown’s twin sisters, Lady Parkridge, he assumed, moved from one small cluster of guests to the next, but no one she stopped to talk with looked like he imagined Fellingsdown’s on-the-shelf sister would.

Brent reached out to take a glass of brandy a footman held out to him and lifted the glass. His arm stopped midway to his mouth and his breath caught in his throat.

The magnificent rider he’d met as he’d arrived sat on a velvet sofa in the center of the room looking as elegantly regal as if she were holding court. A younger woman sat beside her, the Countess of Berkingham, he thought. But how could one be sure when one twin looked so much like the other? It didn’t matter. The dark-haired beauty was the one from whom he couldn’t take his gaze.

Her rich auburn hair was pulled loosely from her face in a seductively becoming style and fastened with tiny pearl pins. Delicate wisps framed the perfectly shaped face he remembered from this afternoon. She wore an inviting smile as if that expression was a part of her.

Her gown was of dark scarlet, the bodice revealing enough to hint at the perfection hidden beneath. He couldn’t imagine a shade that would compliment her coloring more perfectly or a style that flattered her more.

This afternoon she’d been beguiling and beautiful. Tonight she was breathtaking.

He stared at her for another long moment but wasn’t content just watching her. He had to talk to her. For a few minutes before he began his charade of pretending to be enamored of Fellingsdown’s ugly sister, he had to spend just a few glorious seconds in her company.

He took a sip of Fellingsdown’s excellent brandy and noticed Lady Berkingham rise to greet two new guests who’d entered the room. Before anyone could occupy the empty seat beside her, he moved toward the sofa as if a magnet pulled him in that direction.

“Good evening, my fearless horsewoman,” he said when he reached her.

She hadn’t been looking in his direction. When he spoke she snapped her head toward him and looked up.

Time ceased to move forward. A warm blanket settled inside his chest.

Her eyes opened wide and sparkled with recognition. At the same time the corners of her mouth tipped upward in a slight smile, then broadened to a wide, welcoming grin.

“Oh, it’s you.” Her voice was as deep and rich as he remembered from earlier.

His heart took another tumble in his chest.

“May I?” He pointed to the chair beside her.

“Of course. Please, sit down.”

Brent lowered himself to the chair opposite her. “Have you recovered from your excitement this afternoon?”

She gave a sideways glance in both directions then leaned forward. “I can’t ever remember enjoying myself so.”

Brent laughed. “Neither can I.”

“I’m afraid, however, most of the people in this room would be shocked at our behavior.”

“Including our host?”

She smiled broader. “Oh,
especially
our host.”

Suddenly, Brent remembered the purpose for this party. Was it possible that this elegant creature was the Marquess of Fellingsdown’s special guest? She was, after all, the most fascinating woman Brent had ever met. The thought that she was linked to Fellingsdown disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

“Does our host’s opinion matter to you?”

The exquisite beauty’s gaze traveled to where Fellingsdown stood among a circle of a half-dozen males and females.

“Of course,” she answered and the warmth Brent heard in her voice sent an uncomfortable niggling he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t jealousy. Of course it wasn’t jealousy. He hadn’t known her long enough to have formed any feelings for her.

But when she looked back at him, the blood in his veins heated several degrees.

“So, unless
you
intend to tell him about our adventure,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, “I can almost guarantee he’ll never find out.”

Brent laughed again. Only this time the laughter came from deeper inside him. A place that hadn’t felt any laughter in a long time. “You really are a little minx.”

“Oh, I assure you I’m not.”

She batted her long, dark lashes, and donned the most innocent expression he’d ever seen.

“But...” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “If you feel inclined to accept another invitation, I happen to know another jump that is not nearly as...elementary as the one we took this afternoon.”

“Are you issuing another challenge?”

She leaned back and studied him with an appraising eye. “You look like a man who is always ready to accept a dare.”

“And you, my minx, look like a woman who enjoys issuing a challenge.”

She laughed. “Oh, I am.”

“Then I accept.”

“Good. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Brent nodded. “Will you be racing the same horse?”

Her delicate brows lifted. “Regalia? Of course. It would hardly be fair, otherwise.”

Brent took two glasses from the tray a footman held out to him and handed her one.

She took it with a smile and a word of thanks, then held it to her lips and took a sip.

The knot in the pit of his stomach dropped even lower and he wondered what it would be like to feel those lips against his own.

“Are you sure Fellingsdown won’t mind you riding his Arabians?”

“No, he won’t mind. He’s given me permission to ride any horse I choose.”

“You and the marquess must be on very good terms. I can’t imagine him permitting just anyone to ride one of his magnificent Arabians.”

“Oh, we are. On very good terms. And he trusts me to take excellent care of them. I love and appreciate them as much as he does.”

Another disturbing wave rushed through him and this time he could no longer avoid putting a name to it. He was
jealous
of Fellingsdown.

For years Brent had been convinced there wasn’t a woman alive who shared his passion for horses. Yet sitting within his reach was a woman who not only shared his same passion, but was more beautiful than any female he’d ever seen.

And Fellingsdown had found her first.

“You must also have a fine stable of Arabians, if the horse you rode belongs to you.”

Brent couldn’t help but smile. “It does and I do. I have a dozen more beautiful Arabians at Charfield Manor.”

“A dozen?” she said with raised eyebrows. “I’m impressed. That’s nearly as many as Harrison has at The Down.”

Harrison.

The knot tightened in his stomach. If there was any question that the emotion he experienced when she spoke of their host was a form of jealousy, that doubt evaporated with the ease in which she’d used Fellingsdown’s given name.

“We reached that number when Danza presented us with a beautiful filly foal last March. Her name is Xenna.”

“Does she have any of her mother’s markings?”

He couldn’t help but smile. Her interest was refreshing. “Yes. She even has the white cross on her forehead. I’m afraid she’s everyone’s favorite and will be too spoiled before she’s old enough to ride to get any good out of her.”

She shook her head. “You can’t spoil a horse too much. Especially an Arabian. The more you pamper them the more devoted they become. A loved horse will race her heart out for you.”

He sat back in his chair and another surge of admiration for her exploded inside him. How on earth could he pay court to Fellingsdown’s reclusive sister for the next fourteen days when the woman of his dreams sat not two feet away from him? How on earth could he pretend a fascination for someone else when his every thought would be focused on the beautiful woman beside him? “How did you ever become so wise about horses?”

“I told you I spent most of my youth around them.”

“Yes, you little minx. Which led me to assume that your father perhaps was employed at The Down.”

She laughed.

Ah, hell. Even her laugh was mesmerizing.

Endearing.

Captivating.

“I admit that my attire was a little misleading. Harrison always tells me I look like a castoff when I go out riding. But it’s much easier to ride when you’re dressed for comfort rather than style.”

“I take it you and Fellingsdown have been acquainted for a number of years.”

“Oh yes, forever.”

A spike rammed through his heart. If Fellingsdown had known this delightful woman forever, why on earth hadn’t he married her? Surely she wasn’t his mistress. He’d never heard Fellingsdown’s name linked with anyone except Lady Cassandra Waverley before she jilted him for the Marquess of Lathamton, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Especially if he kept a mistress in the country and never took her to Town.

Brent experienced an undeniable rush of anger. If there weren’t so much riding on the bargain he’d struck with Fellingsdown, he’d demand the blackguard make an honest woman of her. Or he’d offer for her himself.

The air caught in his chest. What the bloody hell was he thinking? He didn’t even know her name. How could he consider trying to rescue her when he knew nothing about her?

He mentally shook his head and studied her. He found her looking at him with an equally serious expression.

“What?” A curious little frown changed her features.

He relaxed in his chair and smiled. “I just realized I don’t even know your name.”

She laughed. “Most people would consider it highly improper for me to carry on a conversation with you when we haven’t even been properly introduced.”

“Then perhaps we’d better take care of that small matter. I am Brentan Montgomery, the Marquess of Charfield. And you are?”

She hesitated as if she wasn’t sure she wanted him to discover her identity. Or perhaps she wasn’t sure how to explain her illicit relationship with their host.