Page 4 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)
A Flick of the Wrist too Scandalous
After a year of making a ninny of herself, and her younger sister’s introduction to Society, Myra couldn’t control her excitement at having caught the eye of Lord Southwood.
No longer did she need to feel like a fool while attending balls and social events; she was courting a viscount.
A man of high reputation and highly sought after by most women of the ton.
Of course, most of those women wanted his title, but Myra simply craved his heart.
Myra noticed the viscount the moment she’d entered the ballroom, yet, for the first time since they’d started courting, Lord Southwood had not found his way to her side.
Instead, the viscount stood next to a handsome gentleman, tall, filled out in all the right places, with smooth ash-brown hair and striking blue eyes that reminded her of the bright spring sky.
He was a delightful distraction, but she couldn’t allow any errant thoughts.
Shaking her head, she cleared her mind of the mystery man, focusing entirely upon the viscount.
Lord Southwood was everything she wanted in a husband.
He too was tall, but he was thin and had an air of exhaustion about him.
Over the last weeks he’d become far less put-together than when they had first met, which worried her.
It was very apparent that with all his duties as a viscount, he was adding too much to his schedule by taking her on rides to Hyde Park and attending the theater.
Even though his hair was mussed and his frock coat was wrinkled, Lord Southwood was a dream to behold.
He was usually attentive and sweet, and she vowed in that moment to convince him of her charms by winning his favor that evening.
If all fell into place, she and the viscount would be married by the end of spring.
Flicking her wrist, she expertly grabbed hold of her fan allowing it to separate, showing the intricate lace and jewels as they sparkled in the light of the candelabra.
As Lord Southwood’s eyes fell upon her, Myra slowly closed the fan, then opened it once more to confidently fan herself with subtle seduction.
If she could lure the viscount to her, that would be one step closer to winning an offer of marriage.
After all, he had danced an entire set with her three nights in a row.
One would think he should have already secured her for the evening, and then for the rest of their lives.
When Lord Southwood did not abandon his partner and rush to her side, Myra peeked over the top of her fan, a lazy move that should have drawn him in with a coy rise of her eyebrow, yet the viscount still stood stalwart in his conversation. Snapping her fan closed, she narrowed her eyes at the man.
“Mayhap he has not noticed yet,” Juliana said, a smile pulling at her lips.
She chose not to look at her sister as she further stared at the viscount. “You will soon come to understand that everything in a ballroom, no matter how seemingly innocent, is intentional.”
“I am well aware, Myra. But the viscount does seem engrossed in the conversation.”
Myra slowly opened her fan once more so she could sneak a peek through the lace.
Lord Southwood was speaking animatedly with his companion, hands tightly fisted as he thrust downward, leaning toward the stranger as he attempted to keep his face impassive.
The two men were arguing. In a ballroom.
It was terribly rude of them to bring their troubles to a party, and if she weren’t so taken with the viscount, she would tell him as much.
But, given her increasing attraction, she decided it was an error she could forgive.
“Shall I distract him in another way? He cannot possibly wish to argue with the other man when there is dancing and socializing to be had.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I shall interrupt their conversation and convince the viscount to stand up with me.”
Juliana instantly shook her head. “It would be inappropriate.”
Myra shrugged her shoulders. “Very well. I shall keep to this side of the room and await the moment he notices me.”
Flipping open her fan with a coquettish flourish, Myra’s eyes went wide and a loud gasp escaped her throat as the fan slipped from her fingers, spinning sideways like a wayward leaf and landing directly upon the chest of the man arguing with Lord Southwood.
Turning away from the two men, Myra took hold of her sister’s arm and pulled her directly beside her.
“Well, you have turned the ballroom on its head. We shall never recover.”
Myra grimaced, closing her eyes as she waited for the inevitable moment when the man would approach. “Do you think he knows it was me who threw the fan?”
Juliana laughed. “Indeed, dearest. We have not been dubbed the Madcaps of Mayfair without reason.”
“An unfair term for our family.” Myra was still incensed over the term madcap. A few accidents or impulsive words at precisely the wrong time did not make a woman eccentric. It gave her an air of amusement and was an absolutely lovable quality, at least in her estimation.
“Unfair or not, it is what everyone has whispered. If you wish to marry the viscount, you must encourage him before he thinks better of it.”
Myra had every intention of convincing Lord Southwood to marry her.
If she could secure a title, then madcap or not, her sisters could have their choice of any man.
“Do you think he will come over?” Juliana peered over her shoulder and Myra instantly yanked her arm, pulling her head back around. “Do not look. He shall see you.”
“I am afraid it is too late, Miss…” The man’s voice was gentle, the sort of voice one would be compelled to listen to while he read a book on a cold, rainy night in front of a fire.
She turned to find the gentleman holding her fan, offering it to her as those around them watched for her reaction. She accepted the item, dipping into a slight curtsy. “I thank you for returning my fan, sir.”
“Your servant.”
“Daniel. Good job, man, you have found Miss Astley. I have searched the ballroom over three times to find her.” Lord Southwood patted the other man on the back as though they were friends, a stark contrast to the obvious argument they’d been engaged in seconds before.
“Miss Astley, might I introduce you to my brother, Mr. Daniel Northcott.”
Myra dipped into another curtsy. “Mr. Northcott. A pleasure to meet you.” She pulled her sister a little closer. “This is my sister, Miss Juliana Astley.”
Lord Southwood pushed his brother aside, and the two men exchanged a silent glare, one that made her wonder at their previous argument. What could have been so important that they would exchange heated words at a party?
“Miss Astley, please relieve my troubled mind and tell me you have at least one set left for the evening.” Lord Southwood smiled at her, his troubled features causing her alarm.
Was he unwell? She would have liked to ask but knew it was impertinent.
He was asking for a dance. Therefore, she batted her eyes, shyly waving her fan once more.
“I saved this one for you, my lord.” She smiled up at him, the brown in his eyes was comforting, as delicious to look upon as a cup of drinking chocolate. As he tucked her arm through his, she allowed him to lead her to the queue.
As they lined up with the other dancers, Lord Southwood offered a pleasant smile, one she had come to expect from him while in the ballroom.
When they were away from prying eyes, his smiles were filled with a touch of desire that always made her stomach flutter.
She loved the man standing before her. “I apologize for my oaf of a brother catching your fan. It is a pity you had to be bothered by him.”
“Are you and Mr. Northcott close?”
He sniffed and tilted his head to the side just as the orchestra played the first chords of the dance. They stepped together, close enough for a few words before they would separate. “We were once.”
When they came back together, she hoped to clarify his statement. “But not anymore? What caused the drift?”
Lord Southwood took her hands guiding her in a shuffle through the other dancers. “He is jealous of my title.”
“How awful.”
“It is the worst luck, for I wish to be generous, but he makes it so difficult.”
“Oh?”
“Just now, he and I were arguing about you.”
“Me?” Myra laughed as she allowed him to turn her about once more. “Does he disapprove of our courtship?”
“I am afraid so.”
Myra’s hand instantly shot to her mouth as she turned her head from side to side to ensure no one could overhear their conversation. It wouldn’t be proper for anyone to know of Mr. Northcott’s disapproval.
Lord Southwood pouted a little, the darkness around his eyes easing as he straightened his shoulders. “I will not allow him to dictate my future. His approval is not necessary.”
“I certainly hope not.”
“I think, Miss Astley, we might plan a distraction for my brother. Certainly, he will not focus upon our courtship if he is entangled with his own.”
“What sort of woman does he prefer?”
“Wealthy. He is a second son, after all, and will need a wife with a generous dowry.”
Myra knew a thing or two about fortune hunters.
Her father had shared the value of her dowry far and wide in hopes of buying a title for at least one of his daughters.
But she was determined to marry for love.
She was convinced that Lord Southwood had the potential to be her love match; his title was simply a happy circumstance.
“Does he not have an inheritance from the earl?”
“Hardly enough to live upon. It is the plight of a younger son.” Lord Southwood winked at her. “Surely you know of someone with a generous dowry, much like your own.”