Page 8 of Presenting Miss Letitia (Once a Wallflower 1)

It was odd, but she wasn’t a bit afraid of him. Perhaps the mellow tones of his voice misled her? Murdered in a library cupboard by a very well-spoken, well-dressed gentleman who smelled delightful? It seemed unlikely. “Well this one does,” she snapped. “I didn’t expect to share the cupboard with anyone. And I’m beginning to feel suffocated. Can we please leave?”

He opened the door, carefully looking out as candlelight flooded in. Then he reached down to help her up.

Letty ignored his outstretched hand. Gaining her feet, she left the stifling small space with relief. “I have told you the truth. Whether you choose to believe it or not is your affair.” She shook out her muslin skirts. “I must return to my aunt.”

She turned to go.

His hard grasp circled her arm again. “Not so fast. Who are you? And who is this aunt of yours?”

“I am Letitia Bromley, and Miss Edith Bromley is my aunt and chaperone.”

“Well, if she is your chaperone, she has her work cut out.” His blue eyes widened. “You’re either who you say you are, or a very clever spy, to dress in that prim fashion.”

“Prim?” She frowned.

“Rather like a…er, never mind.” He gave her a little push. “Best we leave here before someone comes and accuses us of a liaison.”

The prospect was obviously extremely distasteful to him. Was she so terribly unattractive? She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her white face looked slightly green. It was probably the ribbon!

He opened the door and waited for her to pass through. Instead, Letty turned to face him, finding herself so close she breathed in his sharp fresh smell again. She dropped her gaze to his mouth; his sculptured lips were firm. At an inexplicable and annoying sense of attraction, she almost stepped back. She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? And why were you in the cupboard?”

He grinned with a flash of even, white teeth. “None of your affair. But I shall escort you to the ballroom, Miss Bromley. And will be watching you. So be very careful. Say nothing about this to anyone.”

“As if I would! No one would believe me!”

Letty’s heart thudded. He was snooping on those men. Was he a spy? Goodness, but London had suddenly become rather too exciting for comfort.

She did not intend for him to escort her and hurried down the corridor, aware the gentleman followed. His long strides kept him close. If she wished to lose him, she would have to break into a run!

As if he guessed her thoughts, he paused at the door. “Forget what you heard tonight.” With a small bow, he walked away.

Relieved, Letty entered the ballroom, comforted by the rush of heat and noise and laughter, patently aware that anything to do with spies was dangerous. But what alternative did she have? She was not about to scurry back to Cumbria! Well, she wouldn’t hide away again, although uppermost in her thoughts was the man’s criticism of her dress.

Letty gathered up the skirts of the offending gown and made her way to her aunt. Across the ballroom sat the two miserable looking debutantes. Perhaps they could get together, cheer each other up. Letty smiled at the red-haired girl, who quickly averted her gaze. Perhaps not. The Season must improve, she remained hopeful. Might she have a quiet talk with her aunt? Point out what the other girls wore and suggest another gown? But would a new gown change anything?

She hurried over to where her aunt sat frowning at her.

“Letitia, Mr. Montague expressed a wish to dance with you again. Where on earth did you get to?”

Letty trembled as she sat down. ?

??I find the crowd a little alarming, Aunt. But I’m getting more accustomed to it.”

Aunt Edith clucked sympathetically and patted her hand. “My dear girl. It is very different to the country assemblies, is it not? But I assure you, there is nothing to fear. No thieves and rascals here! This is the haute ton! Decent law-abiding people, every one!”

Letty nodded and managed a smile. Now that she was safely ensconced with her aunt, she could relive the experience without alarm. But at that moment, she chanced to look up. The dark-haired gentleman, tall and broad-shouldered in his midnight blue evening coat and crisp white linen, his hair artfully tousled in that popular style that was so attractive, leaned against a column not far away, his thoughtful gaze resting on her.

“Ah, here comes Mr. Montague wishing to dance with you,” her aunt said as the elderly gentleman pushed his way through the crowd with a look of intent. “I believe a waltz is to be called. I’m sure he has that in mind.”

“May I dance the waltz, Aunt?” Letty hoped desperately that her aunt would refuse.

“But of course. This is a private ball, not Almack’s. I can foresee no objection.”

Letty’s heart sank, but before Mr. Montague could reach them, her partner in crime beat him by a whisker. He bent over her aunt’s hand. “Brandon Cartwright, Miss Bromley. I believe we met last Season. The Cuthbert’s rout, was it not? How nice to see you again.” He turned to Letty who was aware that her mouth hung open. “And this young lady? She is your sister?”

Letty glared at him. How corny! Her aunt wouldn’t fall for that! But to her surprise, her aunt tittered, grew pink and fiddled with her shawl. “My niece, Mr. Cartwright. I can’t recall our meeting, but I did attend that function. A sad crush, so perhaps you’ll forgive my lapse of memory.” Her aunt looked unconvinced, for no woman in her right mind would forget meeting Mr. Cartwright. But Aunt Edith recovered her manners beautifully and introduced Letty. While Mr. Montague hovered a few steps away, a scowl on his face, the spy invited her to waltz.

Her aunt had told her that if she refused a gentleman’s request, she could not dance again during the evening. While relieved at escaping Mr. Montague, she still expected a further grilling from Mr. Cartwright. Letty rose and bobbed, offering him a smile which she hoped hid her disquiet from her aunt. “Delighted, sir.”

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