Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A ll conversation stopped when Hadrian Oakfield walked into the Duke of Clayton's ballroom. He was the scoundrel of September, after all.

Lady Lilliana Bennett sat up straighter, peering around the potted palm she had been trying to hide behind. She had not seen him in years, but since they'd grown up on neighboring estates, they'd once been the best of friends. But that had been before he had been sent away to school and she had endured her disastrous first season—when she had been deemed decidedly on the shelf.

They no longer traveled in the same circles. She spent her evenings with the other wallflowers on the sidelines of boring social events, and he likely spent his in brothels and gaming hells.

However, the fact that he had shown up here tonight undoubtedly meant his father had grown tired of his antics and insisted the time had come for him to find a wife.

A pang of longing shot through her as she watched him prowl about the room like some sort of jungle cat. Even as a boy, he had been beautiful. But as a man, he was dangerously attractive.

The candlelight caught in his golden hair, casting a dazzling glow. His vibrant emerald eyes seemed to twinkle like precious stones, capturing the attention of everyone around him. His sharp jawline and flawlessly crafted features resembled that of a modern-day Adonis, and his tall, muscular figure was accentuated by a perfectly fitted suit, displaying his broad shoulders and toned physique.

She had read the Brazen Belle's slanderous September article, of course. She had also read all the other ones—along with nearly every other woman in London—transfixed by tales of men who were completely out of reach. But in Hadrian's case, she could not help but feel that the Brazen Belle had been decidedly wrong about his character.

He had sown some wild oats, certainly, as all young men of his stature did. But that was no reason to vilify and embarrass him in such a manner. If Lilly ever found out who the Belle was, she would give her a piece of her mind…

Her thoughts trailed off when she realized Hadrian was staring in her direction. No, he was looking directly at her.

A hesitant smile curved his beautiful mouth, and then, to her mingled shock and dismay, he headed toward her. As a younger woman, this fantasy had played out in her mind a thousand times, but now it was far too late.

Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach as she tried to compose herself. What was he doing? She was a spinster; he was a rake. By singling her out this way, he was certain to spark even more gossip. Only this time, she would be a part of it.

"Lady Lilliana!" He stopped in front of her with what appeared to be genuine pleasure in those deep green eyes. "It is so good to see you. How long has it been?"

"Three years," she said dully, heat filling her cheeks as everyone in the ballroom turned to stare at them.

He had attended her father's funeral, but she had been too overcome with grief to acknowledge him properly at the time. All she had been able to manage was a wooden thank you.

He must have remembered the occasion because his smile slipped. "I hope you and your mother are doing well."

They were not, actually. Far from it. But she would never tell him that.

"We are doing quite well. Thank you for asking." She curled her toes in her threadbare dancing slippers and buried them deeper into the folds of her skirt, hoping he would not notice that she hadn't had new ones since before her father's death.

Realizing the attention they were garnering, he gestured toward the dance card hanging by a ribbon on her wrist. As usual, it was empty. "May I have the first waltz?"

She blinked at him, so stunned that she could only nod. How long had it been since anyone had asked her to dance? Years, perhaps. She had been quite popular during her first Season, but the word had soon gotten around that she was far too opinionated, especially after she had made the fatal mistake of arguing with a suitor in front of others. The men of the ton could overlook anything in a woman from a good family except the possibility that she might have a mind of her own. The requests had slowed to a trickle after that and then dried up completely.

With an amused smile, he quickly wrote his name on her dance card. "I don't remember you being so quiet," he murmured, for her ears alone.

She choked on a laugh. "We have not seen each other in ages. You do not know me anymore." Truthfully, she could hardly remember that brash, adventurous girl she had once been. Years of sitting on the outside of life looking in had killed all those qualities in her.

He met her gaze squarely. "Well, perhaps it's time we changed that." He gave her a courtly bow and then strode away.

Hadrian could not contain his grin as he strode away from Lilly. When he had arrived here tonight, the last thing he had expected was to find a friendly face in the sea of disapproving aristocrats.

He had not given her more than a passing thought in years, but she had been one of the best parts of his childhood. They had been bosom friends, exploring the woods and streams that sprawled across their fathers' adjoining estates, telling each other their deepest secrets and plotting the grandest adventures.

She was a fey, slight creature, delicate and ethereal, with a petite frame and piquant features that gave her a mystical aura. Her hair was dark and lustrous, falling in waves around her heart-shaped face, and her eyes were a striking shade of pale blue. He had been obsessed with her as a lad, and she had been the first girl he had ever kissed. After his brother George had died and he had been sent away to school, he had thought of her constantly. He had sent her impassioned letters for years and received just as many in return, but in time, he had relegated her to a different time in his life. The happy youth he had long ago left behind.

They were only a year apart, making her eight and twenty. Why had she never married? Had there been a scandal he was unaware of? It was entirely possible as he did not pay much attention to such things.

Now that he could believe. She had always been brave and daring, unafraid to speak her mind. Such traits were frowned upon among women of the ton . However, he didn't give a damn about the ton's rules and had always found her quite delightful.

"What do you think you're doing?" his father murmured furiously, falling into step beside him as he headed toward the refreshment table.

"I asked an old friend to dance," he replied just as quietly, wondering why the old man was angry at him when he was doing exactly what he had been ordered. He helped himself to a glass of the dreadful ratafia served at these things, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself.

"You caused quite a commotion by talking with that woman," his father whispered sharply. "If anything, you've only added to the rumors and gossip surrounding us."

A pang of guilt went through him. He had been so happy to see her that he hadn't really stopped to think what a rake like himself paying special attention to a wallflower might do to her reputation.

"I am doing what you demanded," he countered. "I'm paying court to a respectable woman in order to salvage our family's reputation."

"You cannot be serious! She is an old maid and has no dowry to speak of!"

Hadrian had never considered such a thing until this very moment, but he suddenly thought… why not ? He had been looking for a partner, and if his father was going to force him to marry someone, he could certainly do worse than Lilly.

"Do either of those things matter?" he asked. "We don't need the money, and she is still in her child-bearing years."

"Pick someone else," his father snarled in frustration and walked away, muttering under his breath.

Hadrian squared his shoulders and took a drink of the syrupy, sour cherry abomination, letting his gaze wander around the room once more. He had already made a terrible blunder but could still salvage it. If he asked a few more wallflowers to dance, it would not look like he had singled Lilly out. There would still be gossip, of course, but it would be focused on him, not Lilly. And really, at this point, what was a little more fuel on the fire?

For the next hour or so, he outdid himself, being charming and respectable, giving attention to those who had not had any in quite some time. In the process, he garnered so many lovelorn looks that it embarrassed even a rake like himself. But through it all, he could not help but think that if Lilly agreed to his plan, all his problems would be solved. He could quit this pointless charade, and so could she. He could not imagine that she liked sitting through these interminable affairs any more than he did.

By the time he went to collect her for their dance, he could barely restrain himself from proposing right then and there.

"Lady Lilliana," he murmured, bowing over her hand. "Thank you for agreeing to dance with me."

She looked at him suspiciously but placed her gloved hand in his and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

"Thank you for asking," she said softly once the music had begun, creating a modicum of privacy. "I am sorry I was so prickly earlier. I feared the repercussions of you singling me out. I did not realize you had a penchant for wallflowers."

He winced, hating how badly he had handled the entire situation. "Aren't wallflowers worthy of attention too?"

She bit her lip as he pulled her into his arms for the dance. "I think so. But then, I may be a bit biased."

Her self-deprecating wit made him smile. "I've missed you."

"Have you?" She held his gaze unflinchingly. "Then why have you let so many years go by?"

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, concentrating on the steps of the dance for a moment as he struggled to find an answer. He should have known that she would not let him off the hook and was entirely unimpressed by his wealth and title.

She gave a dry huff of laughter at his continued silence. "I do not really expect you to answer that. We both know all the reasons why."

He did not think he wanted to know what she meant by that.

Silence fell between them for a few more minutes, and he let himself just enjoy dancing with her. She was lithe and light on her feet.

Her subtle fragrance, sweet and delicate like peaches and cream, added to her already alluring presence. It made him remember those days long ago at Autumnwood Hall when they had been inseparable. He had thought himself madly in love with her. How many lonely nights had he touched himself to thoughts of her? The mere thought of the fantasies he had once had about her made him shift uncomfortably and immediately try to clear them from his mind.

Instead, he tried to focus on the easy companionship they had once shared, how he could be completely and unreservedly himself with her, unlike the other ladies of the ton who always seemed to be assessing his every word and action for their own gain. Lilly never played games or pretended to be someone she was not. And here she was, still the same girl he had known and cared about so deeply. Why had he let so many years pass without seeking her out?

"Did your father force you to come tonight because of the Brazen Belle's article?" she finally asked him bluntly, proving she had not changed.

He could only nod. "You know me. I would not be here otherwise. I hate these affairs."

"So do I," she said fervently. "If I never had to sit through another, I'd be so happy."

"Then why do you still come?" he asked, genuinely curious and pleased to discover that she would welcome a way to change her situation.

"For the same reason as you, I suppose. Because my mother still harbors some mad hope that someday a wealthy old lord desperate for a wife will overlook my many flaws." She sighed. "I'd be more than happy to spend the rest of my life reading and gardening at some country pile and never set foot in London again."

Such a small dream, but for some reason, her current situation made it unobtainable. It made him realize that his own troubles were not nearly as dire as he had been making them out to be.

He wanted to tell her he could solve her problem if she would help him with his own, but the dance was nearly at an end, and he really ought to think all of this through a bit before he made any rash decisions. He had only thought of it a couple of hours ago, after all.

As the dance ended, Hadrian found himself desperately wishing for more time with her, more chances to make up for his past neglect. He reluctantly released her hand, his heart heavy with regret. At one point, he had meant to go back for her. He really had. But the siren call of bachelorhood had somehow been far more alluring than the thought of giving in to his father's plans for him.

"May I call upon you tomorrow?" he asked quickly. "I'd love the chance to catch up a little more without the biggest gossips of the ton watching every word and gesture between us."

Lilliana studied him for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'll look forward to it."

As soon as Hadrian took Lilly back to her secluded corner of the bustling ballroom, her mother, Lady Constance Bennett, swooped in like a chaotic flurry of butterflies. A turban perched atop her head, and her round figure was adorned in flowing teal silk. Her graying dark hair was swept up in an elegant bun, and her blue eyes shone excitedly.

"Lord Whitby danced with you!" she exclaimed. "What did he say? Why is he here?"

"He danced with a lot of women tonight," Lilly pointed out with a sigh, knowing that her mother would be like a dog with a bone over this, even though it meant nothing.

"Yes, but you're the only one he waltzed with!" Her mother dropped her voice to a loud whisper, pretending to be discreet but obviously wanting to be the center of attention. Nothing this exciting had happened to them in ages.

"We are old friends, Mother. You know that. Please do not read anything else into it."

She heartily wished that her mother would go away so she could spend a few private moments making too much of it. She was imminently practical, but she would love nothing more than to analyze the way he had felt pressed against her—all her girlhood fantasies come to life. When she had breathed in, notes of cedarwood mixed with some exotic spice had teased her nostrils, making her want to lean in even closer…

"But just think how wonderful it would be if he asked for your hand! We could finally get away from that odious man."

The odious man her mother referred to was Lilly's cousin. Samuel, the current Earl of Stanhope. After her father's death, he had inherited the title and had been less than thrilled to find it riddled with debt and saddled with the extra baggage of her and her mother.

He took care of them. Barely. But he insisted that she keep looking for a husband so he would no longer have to support them.

Easier said than done when she was twenty and eight and had no dowry.

"Mother, please don't set unreasonable expectations." She was already drowning in her mother's expectations, and she had failed to live up to a single one of them. The full weight of their future rested on her shoulders, but all she could do was look her best and sit on the sidelines, waiting for a man to rescue her, no matter how old, ugly, or deplorable he might be.

Perhaps she should have held her tongue that first year and pretended to be just as stupid and biddable as they wanted her to be. Of course, she hadn't known then that a bad husband might be better than no husband.

Sometimes, the unfairness and frustration of it all nearly overwhelmed her. It seemed she was doomed to be a poor relation for the rest of her life.

Her mother lapsed into silence, but Lilly could see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered ways to manipulate the situation to her advantage.

Lilly sighed and returned to her seat, ignoring the hum of gossip Hadrian had caused. She had been glad to see him, ecstatic to dance with him, and was looking forward to his visit. But she had known him well enough and long enough to realize he was not her knight in shining armor.

For years, she had waited for him to return for her, like some hero out of a story. But eventually, she realized he was far too busy living his hedonistic life in London to worry about the little country mouse he had left behind. Every gossip rag that mentioned his name had cut another piece out of her heart.

Hadrian was a scoundrel, and she would do well to remember that.