Page 128 of Rakes & Reticules
BANKING ON A BLUESTOCKING
BY RACHEL ANN SMITH
PROLOGUE
Embarking upon her debut Season, Lady Hazel Arbor descended from the coach on the heels of her brother, Richard Arbor the Earl of Bixley, filled with delight and anticipation. Hazel ran her gloved hands down her silk pastel-pink gown and began to worry yet again that her staid fashion choices would be mocked by the other debutantes despite the multitude of reassurances given by her modiste that there were other ladies who would be donned in gowns designed with simplicity and comfort in mind.
Richard winged out his arm and smiled down at her. “Ready?”
She wanted to shake her head no, jump back into the coach, and return to Bixley Manor in the country. Instead she calmly placed her hand on her brother’s forearm and nodded. “Ready.”
As they made their way to the entrance of the Duke of Fairmont’s residence, Richard said, “Remember—”
Before he could recite the ten things she must never do during the Season, which he had repeated ad nauseam during their journey into London and every day since arriving, Hazel interjected, “Brother, I’m not a feather brain, nor am I a child. You will have to simply trust that I shall not place myself nor the Bixley name in jeopardy.” What she had done to warrant such reminders from Richard was beyond her since she never complained nor challenged him on any matter.
“My apologies. It’s not you that I do not trust, it’s those damn rakes and fortune hunters who call themselves gentlemen.”
Hazel stumbled on the stairs at her brother’s apology. Richard never admitted to being in the wrong. Regaining her balance she glanced up at Richard and said, “Then mayhap rather than reciting superfluous rules, you could provide me with a list of gentlemen I should steer clear of.”
Richard’s brow creased. “Hmm…well to start you should steer clear of the Duke of Whistlestop and his mate the Earl of Hurlington, and you most definitely should stay away from Samuel Mowbry, who recently inherited the title of Viscount Thornsbee.”
“Done. I shall avoid Whistlestop, Hurlington and Thornsbee at all times. Happy?”
Rather than alleviating the crease between her brother’s brow, Richard’s frown deepened as they crossed the threshold and entered the main foyer. Gaggles of men and women were littered about the room, which was brimming with candlelight and chatter.
Hazel’s fingers tightened about her brother’s arm. She’d expected a crowd but was ill prepared to meet the curious gazes directed her way. A wave of whispers weaved about her. Thanks to her excellent hearing, Hazel’s cheeks began to burn as comments on her plain appearance floated about her.
Richard leaned down and whispered, “Don’t be fooled. Women know little of what gentlemen prefer…or the reverse.”
Chin tucked to her chest, Hazel focused on the hem of the pale blue gown in front of her. She carefully trod forward, following the lady in front of her, all the while praying she wouldn’t make a fool of herself at her debut ball. No longer willing to remain a burden to her brother, she hoped to find a gentleman willing to marry her and her bookish ways by the end of the Season. Then Richard would be free to travel as he had always dreamed of doing.
Her brother patted her hand and she looked up at his grim features. His gaze darted over her shoulder and the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. Returning his attention to her, he said, “I must go rescue Ambrose. Wait for me here.”
Left without Richard to shield her, she was forced to step backward and then to the left and the left once more.
“Ow!”
Hazel whirled around to apologize to the stunning blonde lady in a pale blue gown hopping on one foot. “I beg your pardon, I’m ever so sorry.”
“You.” Lady Lorna Kemp, who was a year older than Hazel and who had been a boon companion prior to Lorna’s debut, glared down at her. “Stay away from me.”
Still perplexed as to what she had done to anger her friend, Hazel reached for Lorna’s hands to plead for a private audience so that they could discuss what had occurred that caused Lorna to ignore all of Hazel’s correspondence.
“Get away from me!” Lorna swiped Hazel’s hands to the side and strode off through the crowd without the slightest hitch in her step until she neared a group of rather dashing looking gentlemen engrossed in their own discussions.
Warm air tickled the back of Hazel’s neck and she turned to see who dared to stand so close to her. She jumped backward, heart thumping, as the Viscount of Thornsbee’s sea-blue eyes and striking features came into focus.
The rake caught her by the shoulders and hauled her to the side. “Careful.”
“I’m sorry,” Hazel murmured.
Viscount Thornsbee bent at the waist and looked directly at her. With a smile that was fashioned to charm and disarm a lady, he asked, “Did you say something?”
Something about the man’s arrogant smile raised her ire. She wanted to wink at the man and set him back on his heels, but it was only a brazen thought. She’dneveract out her whims. From the corner of her eye she spied her brother returning. She had promised Richard to stay away from the man and she wasn’t about to break her word. Hazel backed up a half step and dipped into a deep curtsy, hoping to sink low enough that she might slip away unnoticed.
The Viscount of Thornsbee’s fingers slipped from her shoulders. “Friends don’t abandon one another in the face of danger.”
Eyes wide, Hazel repeated, “Danger?”
