Page 17 of Tempting a Lonely Lord (The Rakes of Mayhem #6)
Darkmoor House
The night of the ball
Bella stepped onto the landing at the top of a grand staircase and gazed down into the ballroom as Lord Darkmoor’s butler announced her family. She had not expected such elegance in Dover. The ballroom looked like something out of a dream—everything was large, bright, and sparkling.
Ornate chandeliers hung above the grand ballroom, their golden glow casting a warm radiance over an ivory-and-gold chamber.
The gleaming onyx floor, inlaid with an intricate geometric design in hues of burnished gold, reflected the light like a polished mirror.
Floor-to-ceiling windows, draped in sumptuous ivory silk with gold embroidery, framed the room, offering glimpses of the moonlit night beyond.
Amidst the swirl of elegantly attired guests, one figure stood apart.
William—tall and striking, his broad shoulders carrying the cut of his midnight-black coat with effortless grace, the rich sapphire of his waistcoat lending a vibrant contrast. Golden curls framed his face, his smile as warm as the candlelight flickering above.
Bella’s heart fluttered, an involuntary response to the sight of him. As if drawn by an unseen thread, he paused mid-conversation with an older couple and lifted his gaze. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the crowded ballroom faded away.
Uncle Stephen, flanked by her grandmothers, descended the stairs ahead of her. As they neared the bottom, a dark-haired gentleman emerged from the crowd, his sleek hair neatly tied in a queue at the nape of his neck. With a deliberate step forward, he halted their progress.
Wearing a smile that didn’t meet his dark, inscrutable black eyes, he exuded a predatory aura that sent a chill down Bella’s spine.
“This must be your beautiful niece, whom I’ve heard so much about,” he said smoothly.
Her uncle cleared his throat. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Lady Bella Connolly. Bella, this is our host, Baron Edgar Darkmoor. These lovely ladies are her grandmothers. My mother, Countess Anne Bridgewater, and Viscountess Elise Harrington.”
Bella noticed his voice sounded raspy, and his eyes seemed to skitter about, but couldn’t imagine why. Perhaps Society balls made him anxious?
The baron took Bella’s hand and leaned over it, kissing her gloved fingers. “I am so very pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady. I hope you will allow me to reserve a dance.” He reached for the small dance card dangling from her wrist. “Ah… I see I have lost the waltzes to another.”
Uncle Stephen looked at her quizzically.
While the baron’s voice was suave and warm, his eyes turned flinty as he perused the card. “Ah,” he said. “Here, I found one of my favorite dances. They should play it soon. Unfortunately, it isn’t the waltz, as I had hoped.”
She considered herself lucky that she would not have to endure the intimacy of a waltz with the baron—for she had written William’s name in its place.
Though William had mentioned just yesterday that he wished to inscribe it himself, something had compelled her to do it instead, mere moments before they descended the stairs.
The baron’s very presence unsettled her, his demeanor leaving her with an undeniable sense of unease.
The baron shot a sharp look at her uncle, then, with a slick smile on his face, he turned to Bella’s grandmothers.
He took each of their gloved hands and kissed them, offering them a polished welcome.
Bella breathed a sigh of relief when he finally moved on to greet a newly arrived earl and his wife.
“Who has already taken a dance, Bella?” Uncle Stephen hissed beneath his breath. “That was most awkward. We saw no one on the way in.”
“Uncle, that’s because he asked me yesterday for the dance. I promised to hold the spot for him, and I did,” she said brightly.
“You are speaking of Lord Dudley?” His face wore a scowl.
“Did someone call my name?” William said, stepping up. “It’s good to see you, Lord Bridgewater.”
Her uncle’s scowl quickly cleared as William shook his hand.
“Lady Bella, you are lovely as usual.” He leaned over her gloved hand and kissed it, sending tiny, tickling pulses up her arm. “And ladies, you are both beautiful and charming,” he said to her grandmothers, who both tittered like debutantes at their first ball.
Bella thought it amusing that her grandmothers had barely offered up half a smile between the two of them as the baron greeted them.
As the orchestra struck the first notes of the next set, a familiar melody drifted through the ballroom. William’s lips curved in recognition. “I believe this is our dance,” he said, offering his arm to Bella before guiding her onto the floor for the waltz.
Bella smiled up at him in anticipation as they walked to the middle of the dance floor.
She noted several curious stares as he took her into his arms and began to twirl her around the room.
As she relaxed in his arms, she spotted the baron’s irritated face as he said something to her uncle.
But William turned her too quickly for her to see Uncle Stephen’s response.
Deciding to enjoy herself, she looked up into William’s warm gaze, and her thoughts of the baron and her uncle faded. Even though they were surrounded by couples who were also dancing, it felt like it was just the two of them on the floor.
Despite having had dance and comportment lessons years ago prior to her debut, she hadn’t attended very many balls during her two London Seasons.
But dancing with William felt magical. His arms held her perfectly—his left hand firmly clasped her gloved right hand, and his right hand rested lightly on her back, just below her shoulder, while her left hand rested gently on his upper arm.
His touch was light, yet he had no trouble whisking her effortlessly about the floor as if they had danced together many times before.
As they once more waltzed by her uncle, Bella noticed him leading a beautiful blonde woman in a deep sapphire-blue gown onto the floor. He glanced at Bella and smiled, warming her heart. She thought to herself that perhaps her uncle might find happiness after all.
Looking up, she met William’s warm gaze again, and the old gypsy’s prediction whispered through her thoughts.
It had been only days since she and her grandmothers had visited the village, yet the fortune teller’s words lingered.
Could William truly be the man destined for her future?
And if so, would he bring her happiness—or heartbreak?
~*~
Despite his own worries, Stephen felt relieved to see his niece dancing with Viscount Dudley.
Pausing at the refreshment table, he studied the couple as they whirled across the floor.
Even though Stephen was up to his eyeballs in debt to the baron, he disliked the man’s possessive attitude toward his niece.
Perhaps there was some connection to the nightmares he had been having lately.
He grimaced, recalling the baron’s irate conversation as he’d watched Dudley take his niece to the dance floor.
“How dare you spite me and have her dance card already claimed before I could place my name on it,” the baron had ground out.
“I will have your niece as my wife, and you will not interfere.” He looked across the dance floor.
“And neither will that sop, Dudley. I will have her inheritance. I will woo her for a week and then I will make the announcement.”
“You are a rich man and don’t need her inheritance.
Your home is ten times the size of Bridgewater Manor.
And as I’ve explained to you, Baron Darkmoor, my niece plans to marry for love.
I don’t know who that will be, but unless she truly falls in love, she will not marry.
” He wasn’t sure where his defense of Bella came from, but Stephen didn’t back away from the statement, and for those few minutes, he felt good about himself.
The man glared at him. “Enough. I will marry your niece, Bridgewater—with or without your blessing. And I will marry her before she turns of age to make her own financial decisions.”
What was it about Bella’s inheritance that the baron wanted? Her father had purchased the manor house only a year before his death. Stephen recalled his brother saying it had been for sale for a year before they purchased it.
He’d struggled within himself. Part of him had wanted to smash his fist into the baron’s face, and to hell with the consequences.
But within moments, the weaker part of him won out.
He’d simply nodded and made his way to the refreshment table.
Stephen couldn’t have felt more caught if his leg were in a bear trap.
“What does a woman have to do to gain a man’s attention?” a woman beside him said now.
“You have merely to speak,” Stephen said, turning.
His easy smile faltered, and his heart jolted as recognition struck.
The woman standing before him was as lovely as ever.
How many times had he seen a stunning redhead—only to find out it wasn’t the woman he’d hoped to see?
Earlier, when he noticed a lovely, red-haired woman across the ballroom, he’d immediately discounted the possibility it was her.
He had long since stopped hoping. Yet here she was, standing before him.
“Countess Elizabeth Rivers,” he said, his voice touched with surprise. “It has been many years.”
“Stephen.” Her lips curved in a familiar smile. “It is good to see you again. You look well.”
He let out a quiet, rueful laugh and shook his head. “I beg to differ. But you… you are as lovely as the last time I saw you.”
Nearly a decade had passed since their last meeting, yet time had done little to diminish her beauty.
A delicate blush graced her cheeks. “Thank you. But time marches on for us all, does it not? We may no longer be in the first bloom of youth, but perhaps we are wiser for it.”