Page 34 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

I t had been four days since Lord Lucien Cavanaugh, Viscount Furoe’s return to London, became common knowledge, and tonight she would host the event of the season to welcome him home. People said that his father, the Earl of Danvers, was so happy, he immediately stopped drinking and gambling.

Lucien settled in with his father and family and was taking each day as it came.

Society had already started gossiping about his daughter and his “marriage”—the lie all of them had agreed to honor to protect Ava-Marie.

But all in all the ton welcomed him home as the injured war hero.

Wolf and Rockwell rallied around him, too.

What set the ton titillating more was the rumor, or was it a truth, that Lucien needed a rich wife.

As she sat letting her lady’s maid, Theresa, put the finishing touches to her gown, Farah couldn’t worry about her chat with Courtney at the opera last night.

She’d confessed to Courtney that she loved Rockwell.

But she hadn’t told Courtney the truth that Rockwell didn’t love her, nor did he wish to marry her.

She pushed all the conflict from her mind. All she wanted to do was get through this ball and prove to everyone, most of all her brother, that she wasn’t a hopelessly fragile woman.

Half an hour later, Farah stood at the top of the stairs to the ballroom next to her brother.

The receiving line had finished, and their guest of honor had descended into the ballroom.

Now, he was surrounded by people he did not know, most of them mothers with marriageable daughters.

She sighed and wished she could help Lucien through this ordeal.

Courtney stood by his side, but the tension between them could fill the whole ballroom.

Her heart bled for her friend. She turned to her brother and took his proffered arm to descend the stairs.

She couldn’t believe how well Blackstone had taken her refusal to marry Lord Franklin, but since their talk, he was trying not to be such an overpowering elder brother.

It was an uneasy truce, helped by the fact he and society still did not know she went to Ireland with Lord Rockwell.

As she stepped down the stairs, she viewed her success.

The grand ballroom of Blackstone House sparkled with candlelight, the soft glow reflecting off crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors.

She herself felt quite resplendent in a gown of emerald silk, and as she stepped onto the floor, she ensured she moved gracefully among the guests, playing the perfect hostess alongside her brother, the Duke of Blackstone.

To all outward appearances, she was the picture of poise and elegance.

Inside, however, she was a bundle of nerves, her stomach tied in knots that would put a sailor to shame.

Her brother might judge her and be less accommodating if she failed tonight.

“Smile, sister dear,” the duke murmured in her ear. “Stop looking so scared. I’m proud of you. This ball will be the social event of the season.”

“Only because everyone is here to see what a dead man looks like.”

His family surrounded Lord Furoe and she could see the strain on Lucien’s lips from across the ballroom.

Rockwell was also by his side, and she could feel his eyes upon her.

She couldn’t resist glancing his way. The heat and desire flashing in his gaze would ruin everything.

It had to stop. She let go of her brother’s arm.

“I just wish to ensure Lady Courtney is supported.”

Her brother’s face for once showed emotion—pity. “You are a good friend.” Without a backward glance, he turned to talk with the prime minister and forgot all about her.

She made her way toward where Rockwell stood, his eyes tracing her every step.

She squeezed Courtney’s hand when she reached her friend’s side, and Courtney gave her a grateful smile.

“Get a servant to come and fetch me if you need a break from your guard duty,” she whispered to Courtney. “How is he doing?”

Courtney leaned her head sideways and whispered, “His father and sister are doing most of the talking. Lucien is—that is, he’s—it’s almost as if he’s detached from what is going on around him. But he squeezes my arm now and then.”

“And how are you doing?” She watched Courtney fight back tears.

She glanced briefly at Lucien, and her face softened. “I’m fine.” But her voice wavered. “He’s trying. We will try together, and if it’s not to be, then… At least I know he’s alive.”

Before she could reply, Farah’s skin prickled with awareness. Rockwell was beside her.

She turned to face him and tried to maintain her composure and not let the world see how much his smile made her knees give out. “Good evening, Lord Ware. Our thanks for the safe return of Lord Furoe.” When he stepped nearer, she stepped back.

But he just kept coming until she noted they were in the shadows. She stiffened as he leaned towards her and his arm reached behind them and unlatched the door that was there, almost pushing her into the servants’ corridor and closing society out when the door closed behind him.

She was about to remonstrate with him when he pulled her against his hard, lean body and his mouth took hers in a kiss meant to stir her senses—and it did. Her body clung to his, desire flared, heating her blood and she remembered the taste of him with a hunger that burned in her soul.

But he didn’t want to marry her…

She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

Anger replaced the desire. “You can’t keep doing this.

The way you were looking at me in that ballroom…

If not for all eyes on Lucien, someone would pick up on your interest. And everything we’ve done to keep the scandal at bay would be for nothing. ”

He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the wall. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s just that I miss you, and you look so beautiful tonight. Almost regal. Your confidence is dazzling.”

She swallowed her anger at his honesty. “You can’t miss me. You can’t want me. Do you want to create a scandal? I don’t need one. Blackstone has agreed to allow me to select my own husband.”

He stepped back toward her. “That’s good.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

She sighed and placed a hand on his chest. “You need to leave me be. You’ll be leaving soon, I assume? For Africa?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve put that on hold until Lucien no longer needs me.” He shrugged. “I brought him home. It’s only fair I stay to see it go as smoothly as it can.” He took her hand from his chest and raised it to his lips. “Is there a man present tonight who you would consider marrying?”

You, you idiot. “Why is that of interest to you?”

“I might offer you advice on the man. Tell you things you might not know about or see.”

“That won’t be necessary. Blackstone will do that.

Besides, I’d like to marry a man who is in love with me.

I hardly think there is a man at the ball who fits that description.

” She held her breath and hoped for just one second that he’d profess his love for her.

And then the seconds passed. “If that’s all, then I shall return to the ball.

Wait several minutes and then reenter but from the other end of the corridor.

I haven’t worked this hard to avoid a forced marriage to you, only for you to unravel everything. ”

She made to move round him, but he grabbed her arm and her heart jumped into her throat when it looked as if he wanted to say something.

But he simply stood looking at her with the saddest look in his eyes.

She shook her arm free and slipped through the door back into the crowded, heated ballroom and refused to let the tears that were building come.

Rockwell slid down the wall until he hit the floor. What are you doing? He hid his face in his hands and cursed. Farah was right. He didn’t want to marry her and he definitely was not out to ruin her, so why could he not leave well enough alone?

It was because she made him think of a different way of life.

Or was it the visit from Scot Armley yesterday?

He and two other newly created mill owners had asked to meet with him.

As he was already a shareholder—and Rockwell held quite a large share-holding—they’d approached him with an idea to help them meet the growing demand for Merino textiles.

They needed a landowner to start a rapid breeding program to farm the sheep for their wool.

They wanted to know if he’d buy a large estate and begin the breeding program to supply these mills.

They didn’t know he already had a large estate.

He’d bought it over two years ago in Suffolk when he’d had a wonderful investment year and his friend’s family was in trouble.

He liked the idea of being at the forefront of new farming.

It would also add to his profits by increasing the mill’s outputs. It was a long-term investment and when he saw Farah tonight, the idea of becoming a pioneering sheep breeder held several attractions.

Being at the forefront of a new industry and breeding program held appeal. But it would mean his travels would be curtailed. But not totally. Maybe just shorter trips.

When he held Farah in his arms, suddenly that didn’t seem to be so terrible.

He stood up and turned to walk down the corridor.

Rockwell knew he’d better get his head sorted out before he did something stupid like ruin Farah.

He needed to decide what he wanted from his life, and soon.

Farah shone like a priceless diamond tonight.

The timid mouse was all but gone and every man in that ballroom had taken notice.

She was beautiful, composed, and the daughter of a duke with a sizable dowry.

Blackstone would be fighting her suitors off.