Page 57 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

“No, I doubt my uncle would permit it.” Beneath her parasol, she shook her head, her dusky curls stirring against her cheek. Her big brown eyes regarded him seriously. He suffered a foolish urge to kiss her, to awaken her again to that vibrant young woman he had known. Letty was no sleeping beauty, she would rally, he told himself. And he was no prince. He looped the reins in a hand, turning his attention to his horses.

He was about to suggest her future husband might bring her to London, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t voice them, for some illogical fear that it might come true. Surely, he wished her to find happiness? He didn’t understand himself. Once he left for Paris, perhaps he would think more clearly. But not here with Letty, not as he breathed in the scent of her violet soap, and was so patently aware of her slender body so close to his on the seat. He rested a boot on the footboard and pulled up the horses. Letty gazed at him in inquiry, her lips parted in surprise. He was unsure what he would say, what ridiculous promises he’d make that he might not be able to keep…

“I say, Cartwright!” Frederick Delridge hailed him, and rode his neat roan over to the curricle. “Haven’t seen you in an age.” He turned with a smile to Letty. “Please introduce me to this delightful young lady.”

Brandon clamped his teeth at the keen light in Delridge’s eye. He issued the introductions, all the while wishing Delridge to Jericho, who was now asking Letty to save him a dance at Almack’s. Brandon frowned. He had no right to act like a lover. And by the time Delridge had ridden off, he had himself under control. Taking up the reins, he moved the horses on, with a smile at Letty. “Bit of a bore, old Delridge.”

Letty cantered her head. “He seemed quite nice.”

Not trusting himself to comment, Brandon urged the horses into a trot.

When they arrived back at the Willard’s, he leapt down and held up his arms for her. He swung her lightly down to the pavement, while all the time despairing that he might not see her again.

“Save me a dance at Almack’s,” he said finally.

“I thought you disliked the place.” Letty raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t you say it was a detestable marriage mart?”

“And so it is, but nevertheless, I shall be there,” he said shortly, and raised his beaver hat in farewell. He ran down the steps and climbed smartly back into the curricle. He wasn’t about to let the fortune hunters and rakes move in on Letty. Nor Delridge, who was quite the wrong man for her. Not when she was in such a vulnerable state.

Chapter Twenty-One

“My goodness, Almack’s is crowded tonight,” Mrs. Willard observed as they entered the elegant rooms in King Street.

Guests roamed from the card rooms to the supper rooms, the gentlemen uniformly dressed in black breeches, white stockings, and black pumps. Sparkling crystal chandeliers lit the ballroom where couples performed their steps, the younger ladies’ white gowns reflected like dainty moths in the huge, gilt-framed mirrors around the walls. Above in the gallery, the orchestra played Haydn.

The Willards were soon surrounded by friends. Mrs. Willard immediately introduced Letty to a young gentleman who requested a dance.

An hour later, while Letty danced with Mr. Delridge, she saw Brandon enter the ballroom, so handsome in black and white, a chapeau bras in his hand, and her heart set up that strange pit-a-patter. She smiled when his searching gaze found her among the dancers, but thought his returning smile restrained. He made his way over to the Willards. Perhaps Brandon didn’t approve of Mr. Delridge, but after all, what did it matter? In a few days, she would leave London.

“You are enjoying your stay in the metropolis, Miss Bromley?” Mr. Delridge asked. She did not think him handsome, but every man suffered in comparison to Brandon.

“Oh yes, but regretfully, I am returning to Cumbria in a few days,” Letty explained.

“Then might you take pity on me and indulge me in another dance, later in the evening?”

“I am not sure if I have one to spare, sir,” Letty murmured, trying not to watch Brandon’s progress through the crowd.

It seemed like years ago when she and Brandon waltzed. They were strangers then who did not trust each other. She longed to waltz with him tonight, now they were on more intimate terms. She would hug that memory close when she returned to Cumbria.

After Mr. Delridge led her back to her seat and departed, Brandon approached her. He bowed to Mrs. Willard whose gaze roamed over him approvingly.

“Good evening,

Mrs. Willard.” He turned to Letty. “Miss Bromley, I wonder if I might have the waltz?”

“Indeed you may, Mr. Cartwright. Miss Bromley has the waltz free,” Mrs. Willard said, answering for Letty, who raised her fan to hide her smile.

When the waltz was called, Brandon came to her side. Slightly breathless, she rested a hand on his silk sleeve as he led her onto the dance floor. When the musicians struck up, he took her in his arms. His smile was so familiar and warm, it reached right to her toes. “So, old Delridge is here tonight,” he said in a conversational tone.

“Yes. He has asked for another dance.”

“Has he indeed? Impudent fellow,” he said with deceptive calm, his eyes narrowing.

Pleased to find him jealous, Letty tried not to smile. “I find him quite personable.”

He settled her closer, a glint in his blue eyes. “You do?”

“I must say, I’m surprised to find you here,” Letty observed, while a coil of pleasure wrapped itself around her heart. She pushed away the thought that she must not put too much store by his behavior. That it did not matter if he cared a little for her, he was determined to see her return to Cumbria.

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