Part 5 (2/2)
”What of the truly beautiful women? The one society deems to be diamonds of the first water?”
”I avoid them like the plague. All they'll do is use me as a partner for an empty dance, and when the dance is over, ask me to introduce them to my friend, the prince.”
Alexsey c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. ”That has happened?”
”Five times this evening alone. And if you weren't here, they'd ask for an introduction to Loudoun or Portman. They're both earls and spend more per month on their hunting horses than I have for all of my expenses for the entire year.”
”Not all beautiful women are as shallow as you think.”
Strath sent him an amused glance. ”So they would have you think; I am allowed to view them in their more natural state. Most, if not all, beautiful women are spoiled, and think they deserve the best life has to offer without making any effort to win it. Give me a woman who is grateful for a smile, someone like-” He glanced about the room. ”There, by the door. I'm not talking about the G.o.ddess in blue; that's her sister, who is quite vain-you can see it in the way she holds her head. I'm talking about the one in pink who-”
”Wait!” Alexsey started. ”That is her!”
Strath stared. ”But . . . that's not a housemaid at all. That's Miss Bronwyn Murdoch, a member of the local gentry.”
”Nye za shta!” He scowled. That would make a flirtation far more difficult. Still, it was very good he'd finally found her. ”Bronwyn.” He rolled the name over his tongue. ”That suits her.” He put his gla.s.s on a nearby table. ”Come. We must go to her.”
”But Miss MacGregor is-” Strath sighed. ”Never mind. I'll find her afterward. First, I must meet this woman. I- Hold, Alexsey. Wait for me, d.a.m.n you.”
Alexsey didn't slow down, his gaze locked on Roza.
Strath caught up and followed him through the crowded floor. ”I can introduce you; I met the Murdochs in the receiving line.”
”They are a well-to-do family?”
”Not financially, but very much so by birth. Mr. Murdoch's a rather eccentric inventor. My uncle implied that Miss Murdoch helps her father with his patents.”
Thus the ink-stained fingers and the letter wadded in the toe of the slipper. ”And the others?”
”Her stepmother and stepsisters. The stepmother is Lady Malvinea, the daughter of an earl. That's all I really know of the family. I wish I'd listened more closely when my uncle was telling me about them; you know what a gossip he is.”
It was a pity his Roza was a woman of good family, for it meant she was as trussed up by society as he. Perhaps more. As a prince, his behaviors were indulged. Society, never fair in its treatment of the gentler s.e.x, wouldn't be so generous regarding the actions of a female of good birth, and even less so regarding those of a female of good birth but no income. That lack of income explained her worn clothing, too. We will have to be very careful, Roza.
As he drew closer, he saw that the gown she wore now, while of better quality than the one she'd worn in the woods, was unfas.h.i.+onable and of a brownish pink color that did little to complement her warm skin and brown hair. ”She does not dress as well as her sisters.”
Strath shrugged. ”Miss Murdoch is on the shelf and is here tonight as chaperone.”
”What does this mean-on the shelf?”
”She must be-oh, I don't know, twenty-five or so.” Strath nodded to a man who waved as they pa.s.sed in the crowd. ”She has pa.s.sed the marriageable stage of life.”
Which made her even more perfect for a pa.s.sionate affair. Things were looking up. A woman who was no longer considered of marriageable age would be much freer of the strictures of polite society, and less under the watchful eye of a concerned parent than a maiden of tender age. Perhaps her genteel birth will not be such a burden, after all.
Strath continued, ”She seemed quite shy when we were introduced. She only said two words, and from what I could see, that's all she's said to anyone.”
Because she's bored. I can see it in her expression. ”That is all?”
”Yes. To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to her. To any of them, really. I like women of more vivacious wit.”
If there was one thing Bronwyn Murdoch possessed, it was vivacious wit. She just didn't bother to flaunt it at a boring ball. Strathmoor didn't appreciate Roza because he'd never looked into her eyes when she talked about books, nor heard that funny gurgle she made when she tried to hide a laugh, nor felt the warmth of her lips when kissed. The man didn't know how her brown eyes sparkled when she smiled, or how her mouth pursed when she was mad, as if she were unconsciously begging for a kiss.
As he drew closer, Alexsey eyed her with renewed relish. Her long brown hair was pinned up, but the unruly tresses were already fighting for their freedom, a few tendrils curling about her delicate neck. The regrettable gown did little for her lush figure. And she was outshone not only because of her dowdy gown, but because she lacked the sparkling jewels of the other women here.
Once she is mine, I will buy her jewels. He imagined her naked and aglow before the flame of a candle, rubies sparkling against her warm skin. She deserves rubies, to reflect the pa.s.sion I've seen in her eyes. Yes. Definitely rubies.
”Oh, it's the prince!” a woman exclaimed as he and Strath tried to navigate past a final knot of guests.
Like a wind rippling through a field of wheat, word of their approach arrived before they reached their goal. Alexsey saw the instant Bronwyn's sisters realized who was coming to meet them. They smoothed their blond curls and wafted their fans, standing at attention in a way that pressed their bosoms into the bodices of their gowns, like preening peac.o.c.ks on the strut.
The older woman with them-the stepmother, according to Strath-did much the same, her smile so wide, it appeared more a fixed grimace.
Roza didn't even look his way. She was gazing as if searching for someone among the chaperones, an a.s.sortment of hopeful-looking mothers and older spinsters.
Of course she isn't paying attention. What does she care for princes?
Smiling, he stopped with Strath in front of the group of women.
Bronwyn, still squinting toward the chaperones, lifted up on her toes and wondered where Miss MacTavish might be. I hope she'll remember to bring the recipe; I wrote her yesterday and reminded her.
Sadly, the older woman was nowhere in sight. Bronwyn sighed. They'd been here less than an hour, but it already felt like days. And it was getting more and more crowded. Twice now, people had plowed into her without apologizing, even though one had spilled his beverage on her sleeve- ”Good evening.”
Bronwyn turned to find Sir Henry's nephew, Viscount Strathmoor, bowing to Lady Malvinea. Yet as he did so, he slanted her a quick look, curiosity plain on his face. Bronwyn hid a surprised frown. He barely looked at me when we were introduced earlier.
His gaze turned politely to Mama. ”Lady Malvinea. Allow me to introduce you and your lovely daughters to our guest of honor, His Highness, Prince Mens.h.i.+vkov.”
Oh, good, Sorcha will be so pleased. Bronwyn's gaze moved past Sir Henry's nephew to rest on . . . the prince?
No.
The breath left her body in a flat second.
It can't be.
But it was.
As Lady Malvinea, Sorcha, and Mairi curtsied, Bronwyn's world froze.
My huntsman is the prince.
Gentle reader, to say that Roland knew the depth of his love for Lucinda with his first glance would be akin to saying that one can know the depth of the ocean at a glance. It takes time, and a very long knotted rope, to work that particular measurement.
-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth Alexsey bowed to the group, his gaze locked upon Bronwyn. ”Pleased to meet you.”
Bronwyn didn't know where to look or what to say. All she could do was gaze into his green eyes, her mind whirling in disbelief.
How could this be? He'd been dressed so simply and had been carrying the gamekeeper's quiver and arrows and- Good G.o.d, why didn't he tell me? He must have been laughing at me the entire time. Her cheeks burned at the thought.
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