Chapter Seven

"H ave you seen him yet?" Serendipity whispered from behind her lacy fan. She lightly fluttered the frothy pink thing that matched the delicate blush of her new gown.

"No." Blessing chewed on her bottom lip while scanning Lady Burrastone's unusually large drawing room. Its walls had been removed to enable it to flow seamlessly into the dining room and garden, turning the area into quite an impressive space for the party.

The windows, columns, and archways were festooned with sheer white draperies reminiscent of the diaphanous gowns of Greek goddesses. The breezy material was gathered up by wreaths of greenery and flowers. Chandeliers sparkled with dancing flames and golden candelabra adorned every table.

Blessing decided that Lady Burrastone was attempting to outdo Lady Atterley. What a ridiculous waste of one's time—competing to claim the title of the largest and most impressive festivity of the Season. She tightened her grip on her closed fan until the poor thing crackled.

"Have you seen him yet?" Fortuity asked as she joined them.

"You two need to stop," Blessing informed her sisters in a hissed whisper. "I am nervous enough without the two of you constantly asking if I have seen him yet." She snapped open her fan in a startlingly smooth move, amazed that she had accomplished it as though born to speak the language of the fans. The piece was new and matched the shimmering aquamarine silk of her gown that everyone assured her brought out her eyes. The modiste had even gone so far as to describe her as ethereal when she had modeled the color. Ethereal? Indeed. Blessing recognized flummery when she heard it. The modiste was trying to ensure she would be contacted to make more gowns.

"Oh dear," Serendipity said, "Lord Pellington, the malodorous Marquess of Debt, has espied us."

"How do you know these things?" Blessing stared at her sister in amazement. Serendipity knew the financial situation of most members of the ton better than they knew it themselves. "Do you have a spy at the bank?"

"I shall never reveal my sources," her sister said in a lofty tone. She tugged on Blessing's arm. "This way. Perhaps Lord Pellington will not give chase."

"You are not leaving me behind to deal with that man." Fortuity scurried after them.

Blessing stole a glance back. "Poor old lord. He's headed for Merry. She'll sort him."

"The minx will send him our way," Serendipity said. "Quick. Into the music room. Someone is banging on the pianoforte. We can hide among the crowd already enduring that torture."

With a grin, Blessing hurried after her sister. At least she was not alone in her feelings about the silly games of the parties. She struggled against the temptation to cover her ears as they took a seat among those gathered to witness Lady Burrastone's daughter abuse the poor musical instrument.

Much to Blessing's consternation, she had somehow allowed Fortuity and Serendipity to seat her at the end of the aisle. A most dangerous position, considering Lord Pellington could easily access her. She cringed and kept her gaze locked on her sisters to her left as the slightest breeze of movement to her right warned she was in imminent danger.

Fortuity and Serendipity glanced past her, then their wide-eyed stares fixed on something, or someone , to her immediate right. Even though they hid their smiles behind their fans, the laughter in their eyes mocked her. Wicked things. How dare they enjoy her becoming the prey rather than themselves? Both would find frogs in their beds before the week was out.

"Good evening, Lady Blessing. Would you mind if I joined you?"

A heady rush of excitement and relief ignited a heated blush across her cheeks and cascaded down to the tips of her toes. It made her swallow hard and struggle to calm her rapidly pounding heart. With as much grace as she could muster, she turned and smiled. "You are most welcome to join me, Lord Knightwood. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you."

As soon as the words left her, she wished she could snatch them back. Especially when she noticed how pleasure gleamed in his dark eyes. She could drown in those glorious come to me, my lady eyes—curl up and lose herself in the wicked coziness of things she ought not to even think about and wouldn't even know about if not for Serendipity's scandalous books.

"Your greeting is most definitely the height of this party, my lady," he said, then settled into the chair he'd motioned for a servant to fetch and place beside her. He leaned closer until his shoulder brushed against hers. "Your note concerned me as to whether you would allow future conversations with me."

"My note did not say I would not consider further conversations with you." She scooted to one side to place a bit of distance between them. After all, it would hardly be proper for them to sit with their shoulders touching—even though she rather enjoyed it. She immediately missed his warmth but placated herself with a subtle deep inhale of his lovely scent. Sandalwood and citrus. She had always adored the scent of sandalwood and citrus.

"My thank-you letter merely put forth a question." She risked a look his way and discovered him staring at her as if no other person existed in the room. "You should be watching Lady Burrastone's daughter," she whispered, unable to keep from grinning.

"If Lady Burrastone wishes her daughter to make an advantageous match, she will encourage her to entertain the guests rather than torment them." He flinched as the young lady hit a particularly sour note.

Someone near them actually groaned, making Blessing hold her breath to keep from laughing.

"My sentiments exactly," Lord Knightwood grumbled under his breath.

Blessing snorted a laugh but attempted to cover it by coughing and fluttering her fan even faster.

Knightwood rose and offered her his hand. "This room has grown overly warm. Allow me to escort you to the terrace, my lady. You appear in need of air."

She stared at his hand for a long moment, weighing her choices with a puckering of her mouth until she remembered Mama's advice against puckering and smoothed her lips. Before taking his hand, she said, "Of course, my sisters shall accompany us."

"Of course," he answered without a moment's hesitation. He even bowed their way. "Lady Serendipity. Lady Fortuity. A pleasure to see you both again."

"We should exit as quietly as possible so as not to badly interrupt the recital," Blessing whispered as she took his hand.

"I think those behind us are grateful," Knightwood murmured. "This way. Shall we?"

He escorted the three of them out of the music room and along the fringes of the crowded drawing room to the open terrace. Several benches, tables, and chairs had been scattered across the large veranda, interspersed among screens of leafy potted plants and trellises of ivy to provide several perfectly private, yet not too private, areas for the guests.

"I believe this spot will do us nicely. Do you not agree, Tutie?" Serendipity nodded at a pair of chairs that looked out across the garden.

"It will, indeed," Fortuity replied. "I can update my notes on all I have seen so far."

Blessing allowed Lord Knightwood to lead her farther down the veranda, far enough from her sisters for a bit of privacy but close enough to still be considered properly chaperoned.

"Would you like to sit, my lady?" He motioned toward a nearby bench beside another leafy trellis.

"That would be nice." She settled down on one end of the bench and was mildly surprised when he settled on the other and left a respectable space between them. Was he about to tell her that he had deemed their association a mistake after all? That he still intended to keep to his habit of bed them but never wed them?

A ridiculous amount of disappointment filled her, making her chide herself for such unrealistic expectations of a confirmed rake. What the devil had she hoped for? Especially after writing him that note and putting him on the spot?

"Would you think me terribly rude if I offered you a bit of advice regarding Lord Pellington?"

His question surprised her. Was Pellington a friend of his? "As I wrote in my note, my lord, I prefer bold honesty in all things."

"Yes, well…"

As his words tapered off, Blessing noticed he kept glancing off into the distance, then down at his hands, much like a nervous lad caught in a lie. But oh dear heavens, those broad shoulders of his in that finely tailored jacket made up for a multitude of sins. And his hair, black as a raven's wing and perhaps a mite too long to be considered proper—what would it feel like to run her fingers through that hair?

She blinked, silently scolding herself for such unladylike thoughts. "Do go on, Lord Knightwood. Do not be afraid."

His nervousness calmed, and he pinned her with a fierce stare that touched the depths of her soul. "My only fear, dear lady, is that I shall somehow offend you and lose your friendship."

"Friendship," she softly repeated, her disappointment from earlier evolving into a heavy stone that sank to the pit of her stomach. She stiffened her back and squared her shoulders. Fine. Friendship was better if he only wished to dabble in the present rather than paint an entire portrait of the future and permanently hang it on the walls of his heart. "Your advice regarding Lord Pellington?"

"The man is desperate for a dowry to clear his debts." Lord Knightwood's jaw flexed as he looked aside, revealing a profile handsome enough to make any sculptor drool. "Debts he will no doubt quickly replace with new ones once he burns through all the money. He is quite taken with the gaming hells."

"I see." She shifted on the bench, trying to appear even more prim and proper. "I appreciate your warning, Lord Knightwood, and shall pass it along to my brother so he will understand why my sisters and I choose to rebuff the attentions of the Marquess of Debt." She rolled her eyes at her miserable failure at making what one would consider appropriate social conversation. "Forgive me. I should not have said that."

Knightwood's grin made him even more dashing. No wonder the man had such a devilish reputation.

"I take it you and your sisters were already well aware of Lord Pellington's need for a hefty dowry?"

Blessing gave up on attempting acceptable behavior for a young lady perusing the Marriage Mart's shelves. "Serendipity somehow has her finger on the financial pulse of Polite Society. How? I have no idea. She refuses to reveal her sources."

"Shrewd lady." He chuckled.

"One of many words I might use to describe my sister." For her own comfort and peace of mind, Blessing decided to force his hand. "Since you mentioned my note earlier, I fear I must ask whether or not you gave my question any thought and came up with an answer?" She braced herself, knowing it more than likely would not be what she wished to hear.

He frowned at her as though in pain, storm clouds filling his eyes. "I have thought about your question, my lady. Quite a long while, actually."

"I see." And she did. The man was obviously deeply vexed about how to tell her he fully intended to maintain his rakish ways. "Thank you. I asked for honesty, and I appreciate your providing it." She rose from the bench and smoothed the wrinkles and folds from the gown that had sadly failed in the game that she hadn't even realized she wanted to win. But now she did. She rather liked Lord Knightwood and couldn't easily imagine herself liking anyone else. At least, not for now.

She pulled in a deep breath and shook the disappointment away. Time would help. Mama always said time helped everything. "I should rejoin my sisters now." She curtsied. "Thank you for the pleasant conversation, Lord Knightwood."

Confusion clouded his face as he stared up at her, then belatedly jumped to his feet. "How have I offended you, Lady Blessing?"

"You have not offended me." Drat that sad hitch in her voice that made her sound like a trapped mouse. She cleared her throat and forced a laugh that sounded fake even to her. "I appreciate your honesty. After all, is that not what I asked for?"

"But I did not tell you my answer."

"Oh, but you did, good sir," she said softly. Without thinking, she reached out and smoothed the furrow between his dark brows. "With the worry in your eyes and the petulance in your frown. You most certainly gave me your answer."

He caught hold of her wrist and pressed her gloved hand to his cheek. "You misunderstand me, my lady." The deep rasp of his voice sent a shiver through her. "I said I had thought about your question. I did not, however, give you my reply."

"Knightwood!"

The harsh shout made Blessing squeak and jump aside.

The baron stepped forward and shielded her behind him. "Bad form indeed, sir, frightening the lady with such a shout. Who are you?"

Serendipity and Fortuity rushed to Blessing, one on either side of her.

"We should go," Serendipity whispered.

"I will not," Blessing said. "Not until I hear what that fool has to say."

"Which fool?" Fortuity asked.

"Shh!" Blessing hissed.

The man who had shouted charged forward with an arrogance Blessing felt she had seen before. He appeared so familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place him. Dressed entirely in black, he halted insultingly close in front of Lord Knightwood, as though determined to shove the rude snarl of his bared teeth into the baron's face.

"I am Lord Montagne," the man said. "I believe you are an acquaintance of my brother's widow, Lady Myrtlebourne."

Knightwood bowed. "My condolences on your brother's unexpected passing, my lord."

"A passing you more than likely caused!"

Blessing gasped before she could stop herself, then pulled away from her sisters and stepped up to Lord Knightwood's side. "You, my lord, should see yourself home at once," she told Montagne. "Drunkenness is most unbecoming of a gentleman."

Montagne shifted his angry glare to her. "I assure you, my lady, I am quite sober, and you would do well to take greater care in choosing the company you keep. While I have no idea which Broadmere miss you might be, I can heartily assure you that neither of your parents would approve of this man."

"You will not speak to this lady so rudely," Knightwood said with a warning growl. He firmly but gently set Blessing back behind him. "If your issue is with me, then have the courage and good manners to deal with me directly."

"Oh, I fully intend to deal with you," Montagne countered. He cut his eyes over at Blessing and snorted. "And then we shall see what your next conquest thinks about you."

Knightwood lunged for the man, caught him by the lapels, and rammed him back against the stone banister surrounding the terrace. "Choose your second, damn you. I will not have Lady Blessing slandered in such a manner."

Blessing wanted to rush forward and stop the fools, but Serendipity and Fortuity dragged her back. "Let me go! Someone must insert a level of good sense into this ridiculousness."

"You must not." Serendipity gave her a hard shake before shoving close to Blessing's ear and whispering, "Lady Myrtlebourne was Lord Knightwood's mistress while her husband was abroad. Word has it that the shock of discovering himself cuckolded is what killed the Earl of Myrtlebourne mere days ago."

"How do you know of these things?" Blessing stared at her sister. This was not the idle gossip of the tittle-tattle sheets. No, this was seedier, by far.

"That does not matter," Serendipity whispered. She tugged Blessing deeper into the shadows. "Come away. You cannot be seen as involved in this unsavoriness." She leaned to one side and glared at their other sister, who stood there taking notes. "Fortuity! I mean, really?"

"Sorry!" Fortuity scurried back to them, latched hold of Blessing's other arm, and joined Serendipity in forcibly escorting her inside. "Essie, you know Seri is right. We must hurry away before those two draw any more attention than they already have. We—namely you —must not get involved in this."

"It is bad enough that you were seen escorted to the terrace by Lord Knightwood," Serendipity added.

"You were with me," Blessing said. "Everything was completely proper."

"You know the gossips, Essie." Serendipity scanned the drawing room, then hurriedly led the way along the wall toward Chance and Merry. "We must let Chance know in case he is needed to stanch any vicious rumors."

Blessing halted and yanked her arm free. "This is beyond belief. Lives could be at stake here, and all you are worried about is rumors?"

Serendipity glared at her with the same hard-jawed expression Mama had always adopted whenever her patience was at its end. " Your life is my concern—not a pair of men fighting over a married woman known for collecting lovers with the same enthusiasm that she uses to fill her dance card."

Blessing arched a brow. Her eldest sister rarely spoke so crudely. "I am staying right here until I see Lord Knightwood come back inside. I will not have him thinking I deserted him."

"You will not be seen with him again this evening. I forbid it." Serendipity dared to stamp her foot, before glancing around and then assuming a calmer persona. "I forbid it," she repeated quietly.

"You forget yourself, sister," Blessing warned her. "I am of age, and you are not my keeper."

Fortuity stepped between them. "You are drawing curious looks, sisters." She turned to Serendipity. "You go advise Chance of what we witnessed on the veranda, and I shall remain here with Essie—in case she chooses to risk her reputation further and speak with Lord Knightwood again this evening."

"Subtle choice of words, Tutie," Blessing drolly noted, but had to admit, the suggestion did hold merit.

"Indeed, I will." Serendipity flounced away.

"Oh dear. Now what do we do?" Fortuity took hold of Blessing's arm and turned her toward Lady Burrastone and the Marquess of Debt, who were headed their way.

"Well, isn't this just the icing on the cake?" Blessing allowed herself a well-earned, albeit soft, groan. Could anything else go wrong this evening? "We must run," she said, moving her lips as little as possible.

"It is too late." Fortuity held fast, preventing her from escaping.

"My darlings," Lady Burrastone called out in an annoyingly high voice, "pray, wait for us! Do!"

"What sin have I committed to deserve this?" Blessing asked under her breath while forcing a smile. She held tight to Fortuity's arm to keep her in place as well. By Jove, if she had to endure the nauseating Lord Pellington, then so did Fortuity.

"I hate you," Fortuity said in a low growl.

"I hate you more," Blessing said while stretching her fake smile even wider.

"Lady Blessing, Lady Fortuity," Lady Burrastone began, making the sisters flinch in unison, "allow me to introduce you to the Marquess of Pellington."

Blessing managed a deep curtsy while skittering back just a little to make Fortuity seem the more eager to greet the man. Yes, it might be cold-hearted, but it was now every sister for herself.

"Lord Pellington," Lady Burrastone continued, "here we have but two of the Duke of Broadmere's incomparable sisters."

"Indeed, they are incomparable," replied the pockmarked marquess who was in dire need of a bath. He swooped in and made a leg to Fortuity. "When I espied your beauty, I begged Lady Burrastone for an introduction. I simply could not bear another moment spent without making your acquaintance."

Fortuity cut a sideways glance at Blessing, threatening her without a word before curtly accepting Lord Pellington's sickening flummery with a tip of her head. "Thank you, my lord."

Blessing could tell her sister was doing her best to hold her breath to keep the man's fetid stench from knocking her off her feet. He turned and reached for Blessing's hand. She grudgingly allowed him to take it while doing her best to breathe through her mouth.

"Lady Blessing, you are the eldest?" Lord Pellington asked with a smile that revealed several rotting teeth.

"Why, no, Lord Pellington." Blessing aimed a smiling nod at Serendipity where she stood beside their brother across the room. "My sister, Lady Serendipity, is the eldest."

"Ah yes," the marquess said, his abhorrent breath threatening to push her back a step. He wrinkled his nose and cast a rather disgruntled glance back at Merry. "I believe your youngest sister did tell me that earlier." He swiped a lacy handkerchief across his perspiring forehead and faked a laugh that made Blessing ache to roll her eyes. "I blame my forgetfulness on our hostess's exemplary champagne."

"But all of the sisters are out ," Lady Burrastone hurried to add. "It makes no difference which is the elder and which is the younger."

Blessing had never liked Lady Burrastone and, for the life of her, could not fathom what Mama had ever seen in the woman.

"Lady Blessing?"

Her heart leapt with relief at the familiar deep voice behind her. She turned and gave Lord Knightwood a genuine smile. "Yes, my lord?"

"Forgive me, my lady." He bowed as if no one else existed in the room other than the two of them. "I understand your need to return inside, but I had to see for myself that you were unscathed by the…unpleasantness. Please accept my most heartfelt apology for exposing you to such crudeness."

Her heart swelled, but before she could respond, Lord Pellington asked, "Whatever does he mean?"

Blessing was tempted to tell the fool marquess to toddle off and take his stench elsewhere, but even she knew she could never get away with that. Instead, she ignored him.

"I am well, Lord Knightwood," she said softly. "And your apology is unnecessary. My only concern was for your safety."

"What does she mean?" Lord Pellington interjected.

"I do not know," Lady Burrastone answered in a loud whisper.

Blessing so very badly wanted to tell them both to shut their gobs and go away. But for her brother's sake and that of her sisters, she bit her tongue and didn't comment. Instead, she focused on the man in front of her— her baron . Yes. He was hers. The thought filled her with determination to not only protect him but convince him to change his ways. "I do hope you value your health and wellbeing enough to avoid foolhardy choices that could put them both at risk."

The dashing baron gifted her with one of his seductive smiles that made her heart beat faster. "I thank you, my lady." The tenderness in the rumble of his voice was as gentle as a lover's caress—or what she had always dreamed a lover's caress might be like. "Your kindness and concern are a balm to my soul. Precious gifts I do not deserve." He kissed the back of her gloved hand, then kept a firm hold of her fingers as though loath to release her.

Not trusting her ability to speak or curtsy, Blessing managed a graceful nod and a smile.

"Lord Knightwood," Lady Burrastone said, her tone cold enough to ice the champagne. "Did something happen upon these premises of which Lord Burrastone needs to be made aware?"

"The matter has been handled," Knightwood said with a note of finality that dared the hostess to question him further. "Pray, do not trouble yourself, my lady. Instead, revel in this delightful evening you created for all of us to enjoy." He gave her a gallant bow. "I do regret that my mother was unable to attend. She so prefers the parties you arrange."

Blessing bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the hefty amount of pure, unadulterated manure Lord Knightwood spewed. However, she had to admit that the man was impressive and knew how to play to his audience.

Lady Burrastone puffed up and preened like the proudest of peahens. "Why, thank you, Lord Knightwood. Please extend my regrets to your mother. I do so love her company, and soirées always seem brighter whenever she is present."

"I will be sure to tell her. She will be delighted at such kind words."

Her mind made up, Blessing gave Fortuity a subtle nod, then stepped forward. "Lord Knightwood, I believe you were about to share something before we were so rudely interrupted." Surely he wouldn't wish to expound on his answer in present company and would suggest that she and her sister join him for a stroll to anywhere but here.

Lady Burrastone and Lord Pellington both arched their brows like a pair of hounds perking their ears. "Do tell," Lady Burrastone said. "Do I detect the scent of some delicious on dit ?"

"I believe you do, my lady," Lord Pellington said. He wrinkled his nose and settled a malicious smirk on Lord Knightwood. "Do share, my lord. It is quite ungentlemanly to be greedy and keep such juiciness to oneself."

The baron gave Blessing a meaningful look that sent an excited fluttering through her. "Lady Blessing and I were merely discussing the old adage about a leopard never changing its spots. "

Blessing swallowed hard, her throat aching the way it always did right before a good cry. She blinked faster to dispel the sheen of tears she could feel welling. "Lord Knightwood did not agree with a study I had read about the leopard's spots changing from the time it was a cub to when it was fully grown and then sometimes changing yet again in its old age. The one constant in this world is change."

Appearing dutifully disappointed and suddenly quite bored, Lady Burrastone slowly nodded. "I see. Leopard's spots. Indeed." She turned to Lord Pellington. "Shall we continue with the introductions you requested, my lord?"

The marquess stared at Blessing and Lord Knightwood as if unable to fathom their existence. He bobbed his head at Lady Burrastone as he offered her his arm. "Yes, my lady." After a polite tip of his head to Blessing, Fortuity, and Knightwood, he stuck his nose in the air and escorted the hostess away as if proud of himself for saving her from the plague.

"He is most definitely going to be in one of my stories," Fortuity murmured as she furiously scribbled on a notecard, then shoved it into her reticule. She looked up and made a face at Blessing. "Chance is not going to be pleased."

"I do not care," Blessing said. She turned her back on her sister and locked eyes with Lord Knightwood. "You can change if you wish to."

"I need time, my lady," he said softly, his eyes filled with sorrow. He reached for her hand again and held it between both of his. "The last thing I would ever wish to do is hurt you."

"You already have, my lord." She pulled free and charged away, doing her best to reach the ladies' retiring room before spilling her tears.