believe in such nonsense, but he knew that wasn’t the case for most women out there, and to have them all looking at him with hope and stars in their eyes . . . it was too much. If he had been actually looking, Alex would have wanted a woman for whom he could feel some affinity and desire. A woman who was pleasant to look at and didn’t drive him batty with her incessant chatter about fashion and needlepoint.
But his own desires were a moot point. And he couldn’t really complain with his would-be betrothed. She was a viscount’s daughter—polite, genteel, pretty. They hadn’t had much time to converse so he wasn’t too certain of her intellect, but she seemed smart enough.
His eyes lost focus on the invites neatly stacked upon his desk; after a while they all began to blur, much like the girls he’d met. Though one woman did stand out among the crowd, her image crystal clear in his mind. Her lithe figure draped in that dowdy dress that hung over her, giving her a nearly shapeless frame. Her hair was pulled back from her face, highlighting eyes that were so blue, they seemed ethereal. She was beautiful, but not at all in the fashionable manner.
Mia Danvers.
She had said she’d never learned to dance and she’d wanted to hear every detail about the ball. She hadn’t pried, merely been curious about the sights and smells and what people had been wearing. He hadn’t indulged her, only answering a couple of questions. Which was appropriate. There was no reason to pretend that he and she could have a friendship. Men and women were not friends. Most husbands and wives were not friends.
Still as he sat at his desk he found himself thinking of things he could have shared with her. The fact that Lady Davenport’s ridiculously large earring had fallen off into the bowl of lemonade. And the fact that the center cellist had been so old he’d fallen asleep in the middle of every song the band had played, waking up just in time to play the last few bars.
Alex found himself smiling, something that rarely happened, especially when dealing with anything out in Society. He normally despised parties, preferring more to manage his properties, the family’s affairs and perhaps read.
He picked up today’s copy of
The Times
that Hodges had left on his desk. And he opened it. That was enough time spent thinking about a woman he had no business thinking about. He glanced down at the paper, and there on the first page was a notice about the murder.
GRISLY MURDER IN MAYFAIR
The inspectors had been correct; the newspapers would have great fun at his family’s expense, tying the Carrington name to the heinous crime. Immediately he started thinking of how he would explain it to those around him. How the Carrington property could be involved in such a scandal. He didn’t consider himself an emotional person, but his heart did speed up at the prospect of what might be said about his family. The Carringtons had survived so many scandals, it seemed as though they were destined to move from one to another. But Alex would be damned if he’d allow the Carrington name to be disparaged again.
One of his own servant girls. His mother would have his head if he couldn’t make this story disappear. Alex read through the details, but the more he read the more he realized this wasn’t, in fact, the girl who’d been killed outside of his property, but instead a servant girl who’d been killed last night. Right in the gardens of the Pattysfield home. During a ball.
Now
that
was a scandal.
There was a brief line about this being the second killing and that the previous one had been murdered in the alleyway near Hyde Park, but no mention directly of Danbridge Hall.
A crime that violent and in such a setting was extraordinarily brazen of the killer. He would have to be accustomed to Mayfair, to some extent, to accomplish two killings in this area within a week. The inspectors he’d spoken too had said they didn’t believe Sally’s
But his own desires were a moot point. And he couldn’t really complain with his would-be betrothed. She was a viscount’s daughter—polite, genteel, pretty. They hadn’t had much time to converse so he wasn’t too certain of her intellect, but she seemed smart enough.
His eyes lost focus on the invites neatly stacked upon his desk; after a while they all began to blur, much like the girls he’d met. Though one woman did stand out among the crowd, her image crystal clear in his mind. Her lithe figure draped in that dowdy dress that hung over her, giving her a nearly shapeless frame. Her hair was pulled back from her face, highlighting eyes that were so blue, they seemed ethereal. She was beautiful, but not at all in the fashionable manner.
Mia Danvers.
She had said she’d never learned to dance and she’d wanted to hear every detail about the ball. She hadn’t pried, merely been curious about the sights and smells and what people had been wearing. He hadn’t indulged her, only answering a couple of questions. Which was appropriate. There was no reason to pretend that he and she could have a friendship. Men and women were not friends. Most husbands and wives were not friends.
Still as he sat at his desk he found himself thinking of things he could have shared with her. The fact that Lady Davenport’s ridiculously large earring had fallen off into the bowl of lemonade. And the fact that the center cellist had been so old he’d fallen asleep in the middle of every song the band had played, waking up just in time to play the last few bars.
Alex found himself smiling, something that rarely happened, especially when dealing with anything out in Society. He normally despised parties, preferring more to manage his properties, the family’s affairs and perhaps read.
He picked up today’s copy of
The Times
that Hodges had left on his desk. And he opened it. That was enough time spent thinking about a woman he had no business thinking about. He glanced down at the paper, and there on the first page was a notice about the murder.
GRISLY MURDER IN MAYFAIR
The inspectors had been correct; the newspapers would have great fun at his family’s expense, tying the Carrington name to the heinous crime. Immediately he started thinking of how he would explain it to those around him. How the Carrington property could be involved in such a scandal. He didn’t consider himself an emotional person, but his heart did speed up at the prospect of what might be said about his family. The Carringtons had survived so many scandals, it seemed as though they were destined to move from one to another. But Alex would be damned if he’d allow the Carrington name to be disparaged again.
One of his own servant girls. His mother would have his head if he couldn’t make this story disappear. Alex read through the details, but the more he read the more he realized this wasn’t, in fact, the girl who’d been killed outside of his property, but instead a servant girl who’d been killed last night. Right in the gardens of the Pattysfield home. During a ball.
Now
that
was a scandal.
There was a brief line about this being the second killing and that the previous one had been murdered in the alleyway near Hyde Park, but no mention directly of Danbridge Hall.
A crime that violent and in such a setting was extraordinarily brazen of the killer. He would have to be accustomed to Mayfair, to some extent, to accomplish two killings in this area within a week. The inspectors he’d spoken too had said they didn’t believe Sally’s
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