Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,54
go about London on foot.”
His nearness raised the fine hairs on Alicia’s skin. She shouldn’t feel this softening toward him; she should be affronted that he’d further indebted her to him. By his own admission, he had acted for a selfish purpose. Money had paved his path to respectability, and he would have the nobility believe him a gentleman.
Yet … he had given a wonderful gift to Gerald. And not just any horse. He had purchased the prize mare that her brother had raised from a filly.
Before she could sort through her confusion, Sarah turned, her eyes flashing with determined gaiety. “Make ready,” she whispered. “The fun is about to begin.”
Alicia’s palms felt damp inside the white kidskin gloves. Already, she noticed the stares, some hostile, others merely curious. She assured herself that few would recognize a young lady among so many others making their come-out five years ago. Yet some women were putting their heads close, raising their fans to hide their scandalized whispering. One lady turned to her neighbor, then another and another as the news spread.
They reached the stairway, where a rather stout lady in pink silk curtsied to Sarah. “Your Grace, you honor us. Your first appearance in society since your untimely loss.”
Sarah acknowledged her with a regal nod. “Lady Cuthbert, allow me to introduce my guests. My dearest friend, Lady Alicia Pemberton, now Mrs. Wilder. And her husband, Mr. Drake Wilder.”
Lady Cuthbert’s fawning smile sagged. Swaying as if on the verge of a swoon, she raised her jeweled lorgnette, and the circles of glass magnified her eyes into huge brown orbs. “The Wilders? Here?” she said faintly. “Good gracious. I—I don’t know what to say.…”
Her teeth gritted, Alicia dipped the obligatory curtsy. “You might say you are delighted to have us as your guests—”
“We are delighted,” Drake broke in. He kissed Lady Cuthbert’s plump hand and gazed into her enlarged eyes. “You are a saint for braving the scandal, a woman of open mind and warm heart. People will admire your generosity of spirit.”
Looking rather dazed, she lowered the lorgnette. “Oh … do you really think so?”
“Without a doubt, my lady. You are kindness personified.”
While she blushed and blustered, they moved on to his lordship, a creaky old gentleman who cupped his ear as if he couldn’t quite make out their names. “Carry on, carry on,” he said, waving them past.
Then they were walking up the broad, curving staircase to the reception rooms, Alicia on one side of Drake, Sarah on the other. Gerald had gone ahead to greet a friend.
Sarah’s eyes sparkled. “There,” she whispered, “I knew we had a chance to get past the Cuthberts. But I didn’t realize it would be so simple. Mr. Wilder, I do believe you could charm the stripes off a tiger.”
He graced her with that devil-may-care grin. “I far prefer to charm the ladies.”
“I can see that,” she said tartly.
With a wary smile, the duchess gazed at him as if only just realizing his attractiveness. A pair of young ladies glided by, casting coy, appreciative glances.
A fierce heat twisted in Alicia. It was mostly irritation at Drake for his effect on women—but also resentment of Sarah, too. Mortified, Alicia realized she was jealous. Jealous. She might have once lost a suitor to Sarah, but it was unworthy even to think that her dearest friend could have designs on Drake. Or that she herself could care!
They strolled through the crush, Sarah introducing them to anyone she could corner, blatantly using her exalted position to quell any snubs. Drake knew some of the gentlemen by name, presumably from his club. More than one gave him a wary nod or a surprised greeting. And of course Alicia encountered former acquaintances, too. Some acted friendly, others seemed embarrassed, and a few turned away, pretending not to recognize her. She held her chin high, determined to appear the picture of serenity.
In the ballroom, the guests mingled near the dance floor, waiting for the first set. Their conversation and laughter made a pleasant buzz in the long room with its high, gilded ceiling. The mirrored walls reflected the dazzling brilliance of the chandeliers.
Sarah had excused herself to chat with an acquaintance. Leaning against a pillar festooned with gold ribbons, Drake watched the crowd. Despite his casual stance, he appeared alert, almost tense in a way that puzzled Alicia. Was he looking for someone in particular? Before she could ask, a man sauntered toward them.
A thatch of muddy-brown curls capped his long-nosed features, and