Page 129 of Rakes & Reticules
“The fierce frown upon your brother’s features has me considering my future. Should I flee the country or shall I be meeting him at dawn?”
Hazel studied her brother’s fierce expression. It was clear Richard was displeased. She glanced at the viscount who, contrary to his words, appeared unaffected by her brother’s narrowed gaze and thinned lips. Rake or not, she was certain that the Viscount of Thornsbee had only acted to protect his fellow peers from her clumsiness. He appeared totally unaffected by her presence, unlike her, whose cheeks burned and heart fluttered every time he glanced at her. He had referred to her as a friend. She needed more allies amongst her peers. Better a rake for a friend than a foe, or even more terrifying, a beau. Hazel straightened to her full height, all of five feet three inches, and prepared herself to defend her newfound friend.
Standing slightly in front and to the right of the Viscount of Thornsbee, she smiled up at her brother. “You’ve returned.” She locked her trembling knees beneath her skirts and pasted the sweetest smile she could muster.
“Thornsbee.” Richard had ignored her and greeted the man standing behind her. She could no longer feel his breath on the back of her neck, which meant he had distanced himself—hopefully the socially acceptable arm’s length away.
“Bixley.” The Viscount of Thornsbee shifted and stepped forward.
To Hazel’s utter dismay, the rake and Richard engaged in a silent exchange of glares that she didn’t understand. After a moment, her brother nodded, grabbed her hand, and led her directly to the ballroom, where he promptly deposited her in the care of Ambrose Kirkman, the Baron of Harlowe. Hazel scanned the crowded room, half hoping to find Viscount Thornsbee occupied on the dance floor. She paused and clutched her chest as her mind formed an image of the viscount’s strong hands wrapped about another woman. What was the matter with her? It was best if she simply forgot about the rake and focused on her search for the perfect husband. But was there a gentleman amongst her peers who shared her love of star gazing? Mayhap if she ventured out to the gardens she might find him.
* * *
The cool nightair did nothing to alleviate the heat roaring through Samuel’s veins. His goal had been to gain the favor of his fellow peers, erase his past, and convince the ton he was worthy of inheriting the Thornsbee title, not provide more fodder for gossip. He squeezed the back of his neck as he paced in front of the stone bench he’d lured a lady to on more than a few occasions. Argh. The life of a rake was his past, not his future.
“Thornsbee.”
Samuel whirled around to face the Earl of Bixley, whose hard gaze had him considering an extended stay on the Continent until the earl’s ire cooled. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to leave the country on account of a misunderstanding, but now that he was expected to carry out his duties and attend to matters of import in the House of Lords, running away was no longer a possibility.
Jaw clenched, Bixley growled, “Stay away from my sister.”
“Lady Hazel is way too innocent and trusting to survive the treacherous waters of a Season without friends.”
“Mysister doesn’t need the likes ofyouas a friend.”
Samuel couldn’t argue since Bixley had an unfortunate yet valid point. “True. However, Lady Hazel could benefit from having a friend who has mastered the art of navigating difficult situations. The envious staresyoursister garnered from the other marriage-seeking ladies this eve immediately upon her entrance should not be taken lightly.”
Bixley’s frown deepened. “What in the blazes are you referring to?”
“Gaining the queen’s favor places any debutante in a precarious position, but one as kind and shy as your sister, well….” Samuel tapped his chin with his forefinger and added, “it can be a curse rather than an advantage.” Samuel stood at attention as the shimmer of pink silk behind Bixley caught his attention. “Lady Hazel!”
Arms crossed, the lady stepped out of the dark and turned her back to him. “Brother, I’ve been searching for you. I wish to return home.”
Bixley’s disapproving frown shifted to one of concern. “Are you feeling unwell? Did something happen?”
“Rather than subjecting me to another inquisition, let's be off.” Without waiting for a response, the woman marched along the path back toward the ballroom.
Samuel stood rooted to the spot amazed at the brazen chit. Lady Hazel was no damsel in distress for him to protect; in fact, it might be in his favor rather than hers to become fast friends. Yes—he was going to become Lady Hazel’s boon companion this Season.
CHAPTERONE
Hazel’s Debut Season - 1813
In the corner of Bixley’s music room sat Samuel’s favorite instrument, an intricately carved pianoforte. It had been a stroke of genius on his part to feign ignorance of how to run his fingers over the ivory keys, thus gaining Lady Hazel as his own private tutor. Over the years he’d perfected the art of pretending to be unskilled in all matters and to not care—it was his way of ensuring he didn’t disappoint his family. With a deep breath, he crossed the threshold and entered the room prepared to bolster the woman’s confidence that was woefully lacking except in the company of her brother.
Lady Hazel, dressed in a bright yellow day dress, sat on the bench with her back to him. “You’re late.”
He strode forward mouth slightly agape as if he was about to utter the words that usually rolled off his tongue without hesitation in order to appease those about. However, apologies were spoken when one had no intention of doing better. And for some odd reason, Lady Hazel made him want to try… to try to be a better man. There was no good reason for him to be tardy to their lessons. In fact, he should refrain from making the lady wait, especially since over the course of the last three months he’d come to realize time spent with Lady Hazel was always memorable and precious.
Hands behind his back, he made quick work of bridging the space between them. Rather than sitting next to her on the bench as he normally would, he stood next to the pianoforte and admired Lady Hazel’s profile. Her high cheekbones were flushed pink and her blue-green eyes were more green than blue in the waning sunlight. Lady Hazel’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap instead of lying at the ready on the keys of the musical instrument that he’d discovered could produce the most soothing sounds to the soul.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“Shall we begin?” Her hands shook as she aligned her fingers on the keys.
Instinctively he reached out and took her right hand in his. “Not until you tell me what is bothering you.”
She withdrew her hand and turned to face him. “We are friends, are we not?”
