1906....Almack’s Opening Ball of the Season

‘Lady Emma, would you grant me a set ___ if your card is not full?’ Arthur Burward, the young Viscount Thumpston enquired with more courage than he felt.

Emma was at the refreshments room, helping herself to some punch. She had hoped he would ask her to reserve a set and had deliberately not filled her card. ‘Yes my lord,’ she responded, shyly, ‘the third waltz and the minuet?’ Emma did not want to seem too eager and included the minuet knowing there will not be much opportunity to converse with one’s partner.

‘Thank you my lady,’ he bowed elaborately. ‘I shall look forward to it. Now if you will excuse me. Enjoy your drink. I am promised to Lady Moira for the next dance.’

As she sipped her punch, Emma slyly watched him leave. She had secretly set her cap on him. She hoped she would find his favour. Thumpston was not strapping like the more popular Lord Hampton or half as wealthy, but shy Emma rather thought Thumpston to be more appealing. She only wished she were more bold. Now her younger sister on the other hand was so much more confident and was always surrounded by gentlemen. The ton knew it was the elder Brightmore daughter that was faired haired and had the looks to charm a gentleman, but for some reason it was the younger Lady Fallon, that gentlemen found attractive. She had a confidence about her and knew how to talk about politics and books, unlike Lady Emma who was of a reserved nature and was hesitant to converse with gentlemen.

It was Lady Fallon’s come out season. Emma wondered who her sister had set her cap on, if any. Fallon was always going on drives to the park with this or that gentleman, more so than Emma herself. Gentlemen seemed reluctant to approach the shy elder sister. Emma was one and twenty. She wanted to find a husband this season. Fallon was still young, only nineteen summers. Their father, Edward Brightmore, the Baron Fulham would like both his daughters to be successful in the marriage mart this season. He was almost certain they would. They were most certainly not unattractive and had rather sizable dowries.

Emma coiled her head now in search of her younger sister. She smiled inwardly knowing where the most gentlemen were gathered, that is where her sister would be found and truly her younger sister was the centre of attraction amongst the most popular gentlemen of the peer.

‘I bet if I had a set of Arabian stallions,’ the Marquis of Dunbar, Drew Frewer complained, ‘I dare say I may have been the winner, Lady Fallon.’

Fallon laughed, a hint of self praise compelling her to respond. ‘Is it not the rider then that deserves the credit Lord Dunbar,’ she teased.

The other gentlemen laughed. They knew she was a worthy horsewoman. She loved horses, the outdoors and dancing and she was expertly acknowledged in the former and the latter.

‘Oh do give,’ Sir Neels Orway, another gentleman suggested. ‘You know Lady Fallon shall be victorious, blindfolded, on any horseflesh.

‘Thank you, Sir Neels,’ Fallon bowed ornately. ‘Gentlemen, I demand you take your leave. I am in need of some fresh air. I’ve danced too many dances, my feet ache.’

‘I shall accompany you to the garden Dunbar offered. ‘One never knows who may be lurking in the darkness,’ he grinned.

‘I should be so lucky,’ Lady Fallon nodded to her maid to do her chaperon duties. Her thoughts automatically went to the dark, Earl Hampton. She had seen him enter earlier, but he had not graced the dance hall, instead he had purposefully strode into the card room. Can cards really be more interesting than dancing with fair maidens?

‘Would you have any news for me Lady Fallon?’ Drew tucked her hand in the crook of his. She had known he’d drawn her out into the gardens to get information on the young lady he set his cap on. He was eight and twenty and desired to take Lady Carissa Quinn to wife.

‘Carissa is still available on the marriage mart,’ Fallon smiled. ‘We have a box at the opera on Friday night,’ she suggested. ‘You must attend. I shall send an invitation to Carissa to even the numbers. Neels is escorting me and I will arrange for somebody to escort my sister if she has not acquired a partner by tomorrow.’ Fallon was certain she would need to extend some invitations on her elder sister’s behalf. She was just too insecure. Fallon could not understand it when her sister was so fair and attractive.

‘Count me in,’ Drew smiled happily. ‘I had plans, but I shall cancel them.’

‘Indeed you should ___.’ Fallon stopped abruptly, hearing a familiar lady’s laugh. Surely that was Emma.

Fallon’s countenance changed when a furtive glance confirmed it was her sister on the arm of the powerful and magnificent Earl Hampton! He cut a swathe of arresting ensemble in his fine tail coast, gleaning hessians, and elegant waistcoat. The man was a fashion statement in the beau monde.

I thought he was playing cards. How the bloody ___.

‘Indeed what?’ Drew enquired, touching her shoulders, as he cut across her nefarious thoughts.

Fallon watched as Braeden gazed into Emma’s eyes. She was smiling happily. His eyes seemed to be burning with the attraction a gentleman has only for that special lady that captures his heart.

I guess Emma has her partner for the opera, Friday evening.

‘Indeed, you must ensure, your carriage can accommodate Lady Carissa and I,’ Fallon amended. She would not be travelling with the earl and Emma.

The third set commenced. The couples gathered again on the dance floor, the ladies resplendent in a rainbow display of fashionable evening gowns. The gentlemen suitably attired, dressed to the nines. Fallon was surprised Emma was dancing the waltz with Thumpston. She would have bet it was with Hampton, Emma would be conducting the opening measure of the third waltz, after her clandestine encounter with the libertine in the garden.

‘Might I have the honour of this dance Lady Fallon,’ Earl Hampton bowed graciously.

Clearly, she was promised to nobody as the opening note had begun and she was standing there next to her mother looking unperturbed that no dance partner was at her arm. She looked delightful in her cream coloured gown and dove grey sash.

Her eyelids shuttered, a courteous smile displayed on her face Fallon placed her hand into his extended one. ‘Thank you my lord,’ she followed him onto the dance floor. Privately she may have crossed the earl of her list of would be suitors, actually most suitable she corrected, but she was too well bred to publically exhibit her new found disregard for the most eligible peer of the ton.

Now why does the young lady look so detached? Is it not the rumour in the ton that Kerrich is the most prized catch in the beau monde, not that I concur with that, the earl permitted himself a lazy smile. I was of the opinion Lady Fallon was supposed to fall over herself being nice to every peer in the hope of acquiring one to take to husband.

Fallon looked up in the eyes of her dance partner. He had the look of one pre-occupied with his own private thoughts. Was he thinking about Emma? Could he be wishing that it was my fair sister he was holding in his arms?

‘You have found your countess then?’ The words slipped out of her mouth before Fallon realized she’d spoken aloud.

‘I beg your pardon!’ The earl had been so taken aback. In a most unusual display of in-adeptness, his feet stumbled, but he quickly righted himself and prayed nobody had observed his faux pax.

As they came up close together, she whispered in his ear, ‘I do believe you have missed your footing Lord Hampton,’ she released a mischievous smile.

‘It is the hem of your elaborate gown,’ he accused, the heat fusing the perfect structure of his cheeks. ‘And whatever do you mean my lady?’ His tone betrayed the emotion that his good looking face artfully held at bay.

Fallon smiled privately. Such a rare display, she mused silently. Always, Kerrich was found to be rather dash and in perfect control. And about her gown, she sighed, knowing their normally esteemed modiste had on this occasion made the hem of her skirt too low.

A quick look around the dance floor, the other couples were quite enjoying their waltz. ‘It is widely known in the ton, my lord, that your grandmother is impatient for you to acquire a countess and for you to produce an heir,’ she knew he thought her impertinent and her lack of good manners was most severely frowned upon by him, if not by anyone else. Although he would wage that the well bred lady would not deem to raise this conversation in the presence of others. How dare she take the liberty with him then?

How the hell did the chit know? Braeden had not yet even told his best friend Frewer of his grandmother’s ridiculous demand. He liked his bachelor status. He was not yet ready to pay his addresses for any maiden. He could offer for any one, he was wealthy enough only having current tradesman’s bills.

The cunning Dowager Countess of Hampton, Jane Kerrich wanted to withhold his inheritance if he did not take to wife and she threatened certain orphanages would be benefactors to her wealth if she died before he wed. She can bloody well keep her wealth. I am not in need of it. I will not be blackmailed! The earl was wealthy in his own stead from rents received from his myriad tenants and other sources. Why, he showed a cunning hand at the card tables and the Tattersall’s, and had amassed a fortune from those extracurricular activities alone.

Deep down he acknowledged his need to produce an heir, but Kerrich wanted to find love, if ever that phenomenon existed. He will not take just any girl to wife. He wanted a wife who was not only fair, but intelligent and could talk about subjects other than the weather, fashion and the latest on dits. She must able to be a companion to him. He did not want to be forced into marriage, merely to carry on with the Kerrich dynasty.

‘And you?’ He roughly tugged her up against his chest. ‘Have you set your cap any of the peers of the ton?’ He hissed through clenched teeth. Why he allowed the chit to best him, was beyond the earl.

Fallon gasped, as her bodice pressed against a wall of muscular strength. She had not expected him to be so rough, yet the punishing gesture delighted her secretly. She knew she was the cause of his sudden anger. Perhaps she had touched on a sensitive nerve of the earl’s.

‘Oh I am in no great hurry this season,’ Fallon crossed her fingers behind the earl’s shoulder and hoped it would not reach her papa’s ears. The baron wanted his daughters married this season, but Fallon wanted a wider berth. She did not want to marry just any gentleman to become an heir producing machine.

‘Strange I was of the opinion you were in the marriage mart this season. Perhaps none will offer for a chit who does not know her manners,’ he whispered dangerously as he expertly twirled her around the dance floor.

Fallon laughed sarcastically. Truth be told, many gentlemen had expressed more than a passing interest. She had tactfully employed total indifference in that express secret manner that forbade gentlemen to pursue her further. She hoped her papa would never come to know of her double handed manner.

‘So who did you smile upon?’ He demanded.

‘None,’ she hissed. ‘When I choose the man I will wed, I will choose the one who burns with passion for me only.’ Exactly the way you had looked at Emma in the garden.

His arrogant laugh filled the air. ‘There is not a man that will cast his eyes upon one maiden only. Every man seeks a variety to warm his bed.’

Fallon huffed in dismay. ‘Then I shall not wed,’ her grave tone wiped the smile of his face.

Affectionate irreverence laced his mocking tone. Is the chit spinning me a yarn? His hand touched her hair under her silk gossamer veil. Fallon hissed. Her eyes shot around the ballroom. Nobody was paying them undue attention. She knew she ought not to permit such behaviour, but how could she stop something so delightful? She gasped both in shock and more with pleasure when the tips of his fingers brushed the bodice at the tip of her breast. She should be disgusted at her wanton behaviour, instead, she pressed closer into his embrace. A victorious glint flashed in his eyes at her favourable response turning heat to molten desire.

‘Should I warn you that my lips have tasted the mouth of more than one libertine masquerading as a gentleman,’ she gave his a scandalous look.

The glare he gave her was mutinous and condescending. Fallon had not noticed he was leading her towards the balcony that exited into the outer gardens. ‘Let us put your prowess to the test shall we, my lady?’ With that Fallon was astounded to discover she was in the outer depths of the picturesque garden.

-end chapter one-