indication of it.
At the balls and dances Abbey had seen him at he had been a picture of elegance in satin and lace but tonight he was more informally dressed in a plain black breeches and coat, the white cravat at his throat the only touch of color. Somehow it made him seem far less austere and a great deal more attractive. No wonder the wretched man set half the women’s hearts in London aflutter!
Abbey heard the door once more and swiftly withdrew her head once more. ‘My Lord!’ A woman’s voice. Soft and rich, it was made all the more attractive by the thread of laughter running beneath it. ‘Are you hiding from me? I swear, you will not be still for more than five minutes at a time.’
‘Have done Rosie,’ Hanwood sounded impatient, ‘I am in no mood for this tonight.’
‘So it seems, my angel. I confess, I grow concerned. I have not seen you for a sennight.’ The words were a throaty purr.
‘I was down at Greyhaven.’
‘So your steward told me. What took you to Devon?’
‘Estate business.’ Hanwood replied briefly.
There came the soft rustle of silk, ‘My Lord? Will you not tell me what troubles you? You know I can chase your cares away…’
Behind the shelter of her chair, Abbey shifted uncomfortably. As unnerving as it was to have had his Lordship in the room it was far more uncomfortable to be privy to an intimate conversation! Abbey had been aware that there was a ‘private party’ being held at his Lordship’s Eaton Square residence tonight. That was why she had taken her courage in hand to try and steal away her cousin’s love notes. She had hoped that everyone would be thoroughly occupied and so they should have been. From somewhere in the house could be heard music and the sound of laughter, both male and female, more boisterous than Abbey was used to but then, her Aunt Hester tended to accept invitations to the more sedate gatherings for her beloved daughter and her niece. In Aunt Hester’s opinion, there were many undesirable elements in society and she had no intention of her precious Cecile being subjected to any of them.
‘Would it be impolite to suggest that I am in no mood for this right now?’ The cool voice was ironic, ‘Whilst I appreciate your solicitude, my dear Rosie, I have other things on my mind tonight.’
Unable to resist, Abbey peeked out from behind the chair once more. A woman, quite breathtakingly lovely although clearly no longer in the first bloom of youth, was standing before his Lordship, hands on hips, long golden hair unbound and hanging down her back. Abbey almost gasped out loud at the sight of her and not just because the lady had unlaced the bodice of her gown, exposing full, creamy breasts. She was astonished because it really was a lady standing before Hanwood; none other than Lady Rose Langley, wife to the aging – but exceedingly wealthy – Lord Langley. Abbey had heard that the woman was notorious for taking younger lovers. It seemed that Hanwood was one of them.
The woman’s pout was a sultry invitation. ‘My dear, I can take your mind off your troubles. It is my special talent.’ She moved closer, hips swaying. ‘What is it? You have hardly been yourself these last few weeks.’
Hanwood’s lips twisted. ‘The future. A dreary subject but inescapable of late, it seems.’
The woman shrugged. ‘Tis marriage, I suppose. Find some silly little chit of good breeding and wed her. An inconvenience, I know, but a man must secure his line.’
‘Good God Rosie, you sound like my relatives! So you think it fair to saddle some poor innocent to me in marriage, knowing that she’s only there to breed an heir?’
‘Why not? It’s common enough. You only need to do your duty by her. Beyond that…’ she gave a soft laugh, moving towards him, ‘there are other entertainments to be found.’
The look on Hanwood’s face had Abbey transfixed. There was something there for a moment, a flicker of dissatisfaction that was gone almost as
At the balls and dances Abbey had seen him at he had been a picture of elegance in satin and lace but tonight he was more informally dressed in a plain black breeches and coat, the white cravat at his throat the only touch of color. Somehow it made him seem far less austere and a great deal more attractive. No wonder the wretched man set half the women’s hearts in London aflutter!
Abbey heard the door once more and swiftly withdrew her head once more. ‘My Lord!’ A woman’s voice. Soft and rich, it was made all the more attractive by the thread of laughter running beneath it. ‘Are you hiding from me? I swear, you will not be still for more than five minutes at a time.’
‘Have done Rosie,’ Hanwood sounded impatient, ‘I am in no mood for this tonight.’
‘So it seems, my angel. I confess, I grow concerned. I have not seen you for a sennight.’ The words were a throaty purr.
‘I was down at Greyhaven.’
‘So your steward told me. What took you to Devon?’
‘Estate business.’ Hanwood replied briefly.
There came the soft rustle of silk, ‘My Lord? Will you not tell me what troubles you? You know I can chase your cares away…’
Behind the shelter of her chair, Abbey shifted uncomfortably. As unnerving as it was to have had his Lordship in the room it was far more uncomfortable to be privy to an intimate conversation! Abbey had been aware that there was a ‘private party’ being held at his Lordship’s Eaton Square residence tonight. That was why she had taken her courage in hand to try and steal away her cousin’s love notes. She had hoped that everyone would be thoroughly occupied and so they should have been. From somewhere in the house could be heard music and the sound of laughter, both male and female, more boisterous than Abbey was used to but then, her Aunt Hester tended to accept invitations to the more sedate gatherings for her beloved daughter and her niece. In Aunt Hester’s opinion, there were many undesirable elements in society and she had no intention of her precious Cecile being subjected to any of them.
‘Would it be impolite to suggest that I am in no mood for this right now?’ The cool voice was ironic, ‘Whilst I appreciate your solicitude, my dear Rosie, I have other things on my mind tonight.’
Unable to resist, Abbey peeked out from behind the chair once more. A woman, quite breathtakingly lovely although clearly no longer in the first bloom of youth, was standing before his Lordship, hands on hips, long golden hair unbound and hanging down her back. Abbey almost gasped out loud at the sight of her and not just because the lady had unlaced the bodice of her gown, exposing full, creamy breasts. She was astonished because it really was a lady standing before Hanwood; none other than Lady Rose Langley, wife to the aging – but exceedingly wealthy – Lord Langley. Abbey had heard that the woman was notorious for taking younger lovers. It seemed that Hanwood was one of them.
The woman’s pout was a sultry invitation. ‘My dear, I can take your mind off your troubles. It is my special talent.’ She moved closer, hips swaying. ‘What is it? You have hardly been yourself these last few weeks.’
Hanwood’s lips twisted. ‘The future. A dreary subject but inescapable of late, it seems.’
The woman shrugged. ‘Tis marriage, I suppose. Find some silly little chit of good breeding and wed her. An inconvenience, I know, but a man must secure his line.’
‘Good God Rosie, you sound like my relatives! So you think it fair to saddle some poor innocent to me in marriage, knowing that she’s only there to breed an heir?’
‘Why not? It’s common enough. You only need to do your duty by her. Beyond that…’ she gave a soft laugh, moving towards him, ‘there are other entertainments to be found.’
The look on Hanwood’s face had Abbey transfixed. There was something there for a moment, a flicker of dissatisfaction that was gone almost as
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