Midsummer Eve at Rookery End by Elizabeth Hanbury

sighing over his handsome features and envying the lady who had excited his interest this evening.
    Unaware of the female hearts he had set a-fluttering, the Marquess came to stand at Lady Draycott’s side. The two gentlemen who had been dancing attendance on the young widow quickly departed when he raised his brows at them in a meaningful way.
    His gaze drank in her appearance. Lady Draycott’s blonde hair was arranged in careful disarray and a pair of cat-like green eyes gleamed up at him out of an exquisite little face. A beaded pale blue silk gown clung to her curves, the low décolletage revealing more of her breasts than was strictly acceptable. She was a strikingly lovely woman and yet, even as he admired her, he knew that nothing stirred in his heart.
    Taking her hand, he raised it slowly to his lips. “Lady Draycott, I believe?”
    “I am Lady Draycott,” she murmured, looking at him through her lashes, “but I should not really speak to you until we have been introduced, sir.”
    He felt a flicker of impatience, but he made the effort to smile. “Come, my dear, you know who I am so why should we care for the proprieties? Let us not waste time by being obtuse. We have been exchanging glances for some time and we both understand what we are about. You are as eager as I am to become acquainted and, since no one can overhear us at present, you do not need to behave like an ingénue.”
    “But people are watching, Lord Shaftesbury,” she replied, not bothering to feign misunderstanding. “Being a gentleman and a Marquess, you may do as you wish and not be upheld for it. I, on the other hand, am only a widow and must take care to be discreet.”
    “Ah, yes. Discretion – always a tedious consideration, but one that must be taken into account to avoid the tabbies’ gossip. Very well, we will appear to be discussing our fellow guests while in reality we converse on more, er, stimulating topics.” Lifting the quizzing glass that hung on a black ribbon around his neck, he surveyed the assembled company with a dispassionate air. “I have not seen you in London, I think, Lady Draycott,” he began in a low voice.
    A seductive smile hovered on her lips. “I have been living in Bath, sir.”
    “I see,” he mused. “That explains why I have not encountered you before – I detest Bath.”
    “So do I,” declared Lady Draycott, with feeling. “It is a rain-soaked, dreary place and now I have control of my dead husband’s money, I am moving to London.”
    “Indeed?” He glanced down into her cold green eyes. “In that case, our connection could extend beyond this evening, if it proves mutually satisfying.”
    “My terms are straightforward and very reasonable, my lord – pleasure without obligation on both sides, and the occasional gift from you while we conduct our liaison. Diamonds,” she added, bestowing another smile on the gentleman who was leering at her from the dance floor, “are a particular favourite of mine.”
    The Marquess arched a sardonic eyebrow before returning to his scrutiny of the crowd. “You have expensive tastes.”
    “Are you surprised?”
    “Not in the least,” he said, drily. “Just as I anticipated, you are a woman who is experienced in this particular game.”
    She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “A liaison between us would be well worth your while. I am considered amusing company, as well as skilled in the art of lovemaking.”
    The quizzing glass fell from his fingers. He turned back to face her and, noting her triumphant expression, he drawled, “A word of warning, Lady Draycott – do not hope to engage my affections. That will never happen, however enticing you prove to be.”
    Her pretty mouth formed into a pout. “La, my lord, I was seventeen when I married Draycott, a rich fool more than twice my age! Do you think I want to be trapped again? No, indeed! Like you, I lack sensibility and merely wish to enjoy myself.”
    “And I merely find it advisable to