Page 9 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

Her hand resting on his arm, they crossed to the dance floor. “How well you charmed my aunt, Mr. Cartwright!”

He cast her a quizzical glance. “Ah, so I am charming, Miss Bromley?”

“Charm is only to be applauded when it is sincere,” she said as they took their places on the dance floor.

“Shame on you, Miss Bromley. You don’t feel your aunt warranted my attention?”

Letty could only frown and shake her head at him as he took her in his arms.

Brandon gazed down at the young lady’s face as he swung her into the waltz. He hadn’t quite taken note of her in the library as the implications of Fraughton’s conversation flittered through his mind. As he’d expected, there was more to what Willard had told him. He needed to attend their next encounter at the docks and discover who this Frenchman was. A dashed intriguing business this, it had sparked his interest.

But now he had Miss Letitia Bromley to deal with. She had also listened to Fraughton. It appeared she was what she claimed, and now in the better light, he could see she was very young. She’d shown spirit, but her large, rather lovely brown eyes studied him as if he was about to tackle her to the floor, rather than lead her in the dance.

“I am not about to badger you, Miss Bromley,” he said, pleasantly, “But I would like to know what caused you to hide in the cupboard.”

She bit her lip and gazed somewhere over his right shoulder. “I was escaping.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Has a gentleman displayed an unattractive interest in you?”

She shook her head, a glossy dark lock escaping its ribbon. “No, of course not.”

When she glanced down, he suddenly understood. “Your dress? It’s a little fussy, but not ugly, you know. And does not detract from your charms.”

A flush warmed her cheeks. “There’s really no need to flatter me.”

“I don’t believe I was. But we shall speak no more about it.”

A moment passed while he reversed her as the music swelled. She was slim and light on her feet, and he realized he was enjoying the dance, when he often didn’t.

“Have I your promise that you’ll never mention what you heard Lord Fraughton and the Frenchman speak of, Miss Bromley?”

“Of course I won’t. But I am rather curious about it,” she admitted, her eyes brightening. “The Frenchman spoke too quickly for me. French was never one of my best subjects.”

“I believe that’s just as well,” he said dryly, recalling the man’s fulsome curses. “I have no idea what they spoke of either. Best we forget it, mm?” He turned her again and enjoyed seeing her breath quicken and her cheeks flush as she followed him through the steps. “You have a lovely smile. You should use it. You’ll find the gentlemen queuing up.”

She glared at him. “I find you patronizing, sir.”

“I beg your pardon. I fancy I shan’t see your smile then, Miss Bromley. Pity.”

The dance ended, and he led her back to her aunt. “A pleasure,” he said with a bow and left them.

It must be overwhelming for a young country lass to come to London for the Season. But he was confident that Miss Bromley would soon take, that was the expression used, he believed. Better dressed she would do well. She was tall and slender, and he suspected she had a good deal of saucy charm, which would emerge when she gained confidence. A man could drown in those beautiful brown eyes. It would not be him, however, he had work to do and could safely anticipate that he and the young lady would not cross paths again.

Chapter Four

Letty awoke the next morning and lay thinking of her encounter with Mr. Cartwright. How she’d felt in his strong arms as he’d swept her around the floor in the waltz. It would have been thrilling had she not been struggling to hide her embarrassment at him not only finding her in the cupboard, but discovering the reason she was hiding there. She cringed. Did he pity her? She could almost accept anything but pity. What would happen should they meet again? And more important still, why was he hiding in the library? He’d brushed her off smartly when she’d asked him.

She sat up. It was not to be borne! Never again would she go to a ball wearing that gown. She would have to tackle her aunt. She’d explain how upset she was about the style, because it was different to the other debutante’s, and offer to alter it herself. Surely her aunt, who was not unkind, wouldn’t expect her to continue to feel so uncomfortable!

In the afternoon, they were to embark on a shopping expedition in Bond Street to purchase those things Letty still required. She would be forced to wear her one decent carriage dress, along with her old, chip straw hat. Mrs. Crotchet had yet to make the rest of her clothes, which Letty remained in two minds about. Although they were sorely needed, she dreaded their arrival.

She dressed quickly and went down to the breakfast room. Apart from Mary setting the table, the room was empty, although Aunt Edith was generally an early riser.

“Is my aunt up yet, Mary?”

“No, Miss Bromley. I went in to draw back the curtains, and she asked me to leave them closed. She complained of a headache.”

“Oh, poor Aunt Edith. Can I take something up to her? A tisane? Or a hot drink?”

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