Chapter Five

“M ove aside,” Byron barked at his valet. “I can tie my own bloody cravat.”

“Yes, my lord,” Keller said meekly, stepping back.

Gritting his teeth, he tied the cravat once and did such a terrible job that he started over. Again, a second time, the result was dismal.

“My temper got the best of me,” he told the servant. “Would you have a go at it, Keller?”

“Of course, my lord,” the valet said eagerly, returning to stand in front of Byron and effortlessly tying the cravat. “That should do, my lord.”

Glancing in the mirror, he saw the knot was perfect and added, “I have been out of sorts, Keller. I did not mean for you to suffer the ill effects of my sour mood.”

“Anything else you require, my lord?” the valet asked, seemingly unsure how he was supposed to respond to what Byron revealed.

“No. That will be all until later this evening. Go have your supper. Take a walk about the grounds. Enjoy the countryside. The sun will not set until eight o’clock or so. I won’t require you for another hour or two after that.”

He watched the valet leave the bedchamber, angry at himself for snapping at the servant. Byron had been out of sorts ever since he discovered his aunt and uncle’s guests at tea. No, that had merely annoyed him. It was the stroll through the gardens with Lady Mirella that had him so vexed. And it wasn’t the lady herself which had him disgruntled.

It was the knowing he could not pursue her.

During his years in the military, he had been too busy killing French soldiers and trying to protect his men to think about women. Marriage had not been a choice for him, and he had willingly accepted that. When Dawson’s reckless actions caused his death and Lord Hampton’s, however, Byron accepted a new reality, one which included providing an heir to the title. Since his father had arranged for Dawson’s betrothal to Jacinda Bowles, Byron now felt obligated to see that new arrangements be made and that he would stand in for Dawson as Jacinda’s new intended, uniting their families as their fathers had wished.

His own solicitor had explained to him that the marriage contracts were null and void with the death of Dawson Balfour. They had been written before his brother assumed the title. It might have been a slightly trickier situation if they had merely named the Marquess of Bridgewater as the groom, but that had not been the case, according to Mr. Pilsbury.

Still, duty and obligations had been so ingrained into Byron by his father that he told himself that he would honor the previously written marriage settlements and wed Jacinda himself.

He just hadn’t told the bride. Or her brother.

Last year, when Byron had arrived back at Bridgefield, he had paid a call on the new Lord Hampton. Cedric had been fresh out of Cambridge, having graduated less than a month before the fatal race took place. The viscount was a couple of years younger than Byron and though they were neighbors and their fathers close, no friendship existed between them. He thought both Cedric and Jacinda too much like the annoying Lady Hampton. In his opinion, both siblings were snobbish and dull.

Still, he had done his duty and gone to see them. He had met with Cedric in what had been Lord Hampton’s study. Though now an adult, Cedric still had the air of a lost little boy, in part because he still looked so young and immature, as if he were barely old enough to shave. He had addressed Cedric as Lord Hampton, but even Byron could see the new viscount was in a daze, and not simply because his father had died suddenly. Hampton admitted to Byron how overwhelmed he was at having to immediately take on so many responsibilities. He had whined about how unfair life was and how he was supposed to be in town, drinking and wenching and gambling with his friends for several years, not stuck in the country trying to figure out how to read ledgers and deal with surly tenants, things he had absolutely no interest in.

Byron had murmured a few sympathetic words and then left as quickly as he could. He did not share with Hampton his idea of offering for Jacinda. Though he was still committed to that plan of action, he held back, not informing either of the Bowles siblings what would unfold during Jacinda’s come-out Season. He thought it best to merely reacquaint himself with her at the start of the Season and then court her accordingly. It wouldn’t be fair at her tender age to draw up the new marriage contracts and then inform her of the betrothal.

In time, he would take Lord Hampton into his confidence and believed the new viscount would be glad to have his sister off his hands. Though Jacinda had not made an appearance during Byron’s visit, Hampton had lamented what a handful his sister had become and how he would gladly place her on the Marriage Mart when the time came for her to make her debut.

He did know his neighbors had gone to town this past spring, thanks to overhearing talk amongst his servants. Apparently, Jacinda had demanded to go to town with her brother during the Season and not be left in the country, threatening that she would elope to Gretna Green with a groom if Hampton did not take her with him. More gossip had spread from town to the country, with Byron again overhearing his servants talk about how wild the new Lord Hampton was and how his gambling debts were growing. While Byron did not believe Hampton would be able to touch Jacinda’s dowry, his behavior was certainly one of concern.

Next spring, he would make certain to dance with Jacinda and send her flowers. Even make morning calls to show his interest in her. He dreaded having to waste his time doing such things, but she would be expecting it. If she were as disagreeable as her brother had been, she might not have as many suitors as she wished. Then again, she was quite the beauty. Most men would look past her behavior and accept her dowry and hope their children favored her more than them.

Because of this situation, Byron could not show any interest in Lady Mirella Strong. Unfortunately, Lady Mirella was everything he would have wanted in a wife if he were selecting one on his own. She held herself with grace and had a maturity about her which few her age possessed. She seemed witty and intelligent, and she had not been afraid to speak up around him.

Then there were his physical reactions to her. His heart speeding up. The faint fluttering in his chest. Excitement? Desire? He neither knew nor cared. All he was certain of was that she was the loveliest creature he had ever encountered, full of life and spirit, and he must avoid her at all costs. He wanted to cut short his visit with Aunt Flora and Uncle Hugh, but they never attended the Season. If he left now, he did not know for certain when he would see them again. Therefore, Byron decided to remain at Benbrook, despite Lady Mirella’s presence and those of her traveling party. He would be pleasant to them, but he would avoid being alone with her at all costs.

Because if he did find himself alone with her, Byron was certain he would kiss her.

And that could prove to be disastrous.

Knowing he could no longer delay making an appearance, he ventured to the drawing room. It was the habit of his aunt and uncle to meet there for a drink before dinner, and they had done so the past two nights of his visit. Of course, the mood would now change with four other guests in attendance. Byron assumed Miss Feathers would also dine with them since she had taken tea with the group this afternoon. Aunt Flora had never been one to stand on ceremony, and so she would treat the governess as any other guest.

He entered the drawing room and forced himself not to search for Lady Mirella. He spied his uncle talking with Lady Effie and Miss Feathers and went to join them.

“Good evening. I hope you are unpacked and settled in at Benbrook,” he said, trying to be affable.

Lady Effie cocked a brow at him. “You are being friendly now, my lord? You were a bit unsociable this afternoon.”

Byron couldn’t help but laugh. The girl didn’t censor her thoughts in the slightest.

“What is so funny?” she demanded, looking to her governess.

Miss Feathers smiled indulgently and then turned to him. “My lord, you must be warned that Lady Effie speaks her mind. She does not disguise her feelings in any way.”

The lady in question sniffed haughtily. “Well, I do not see why I should pretend about anything. Lord Bridgewater was downright disagreeable this afternoon. I am merely pleased that he has chosen to be pleasant this evening.” She looked at him earnestly. “I do hope you will remain this way, my lord. Before, you appeared quite sullen. Perhaps it was walking in the gardens with Mirella that helped improve your mood. Mirella can brighten anyone’s day, even if they are in the darkest of moods.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Lady Mirella joined them, and Byron felt his skin prickle. The tingling sensation was quite pleasant. He took in the powder blue evening gown she wore, noting her hair simply dressed, swept away from her face. The hairstyle only enhanced her natural beauty.

“I was just telling Lord Bridgewater how he seems to be in a much better mood than he was previously,” Lady Effie said. “I credited you with the improvement in his conduct.”

“I am sorry if I was rude this afternoon, Lady Effie,” he apologized. “I promise to be on my best behavior during the rest of your visit.”

“See?” the young lady said, looking at her governess. “It is perfectly fine to let someone know their behavior has offended you.”

Miss Feathers blushed. “Restraint, my lady. It is wise to practice it.”

Lady Effie smiled triumphantly at Byron. “Miss Feathers believes me to be too outspoken at times. Mama, as well. But James, my brother, says I am like a colt running free and that I should not be broken by Polite Society’s many rules.”

“To fit into Polite Society, though, it would be good if you learned to curb your tongue, Effie,” her sister cautioned. “Exercising a bit of self-control never hurt anyone. It will also keep you from treading upon others’ feelings.”

“Well, I find you to be quite delightful, my lady,” Byron said, sticking up for the young woman.

“Thank you, my lord. And as far as Polite Society goes, I am not certain I even wish to be a part of it.”

He had never heard such a remark uttered before and couldn’t help but ask, “Why not?”

“I think there are too many rules to adhere to,” Lady Effie explained. “Silly rules, at that. And I am not one for dressing up in fancy gowns and parading about. To be honest, most of the time, I would rather be around animals rather than people. I even brought my cat with me on our journey. Daffy, which is short for Daffodil.”

Byron looked from one sister to the other. “It is hard to imagine you are sisters because you are so different from one another.”

Even though he found the youngest Strong sister’s attitude unique, he was still taken with Lady Mirella.

“We do not favor one another physically,” Lady Mirella agreed. “My auburn hair comes from my paternal grandmother, while Effie’s blond hair is from her maternal grandmother. The rest of our siblings and cousins all have dark hair.”

“But we all possess the Strong eyes,” Lady Effie pointed out. “Just like Aunt Matty and our father.”

“The shade is most becoming to you both,” Byron said gallantly.

They were summoned into dinner, and he did his best to be friendly and not aloof. Surprisingly, he enjoyed the meal more than any he had eaten in a long time, thanks to the addition of their guests. Mills even brought out a birthday cake Cook had made for him, and the group became quite merry eating it.

After dinner, Aunt Flora suggested they return to the drawing room. He and Uncle Hugh skipped having a cigar and opted to bring their snifters of brandy with them. Byron took a seat beside Lady Mathilda, in part because he had not spoken with her this evening, but more so because it meant he did not have to sit with Lady Mirella.

“Lady Mirella, you simply must play the pianoforte for us,” his aunt declared. “Matty has spoken with great pride over the years of the musical talent you and Lady Georgina possess.”

“I would be happy to do so, my lady,” Lady Mirella said, rising from her seat and sitting at the pianoforte.

The moment she moved her hands to perch above the keys, Byron sat up. While he had thought her a charming, intelligent woman, she now looked like a queen, confidence brimming through her. Then she struck the first few notes of a piece, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a blur. He sat, fascinated, his jaw falling open in wonder. She played Beethoven as Byron had never heard the composer’s works played before. He had listened to others perform on the pianoforte before, both men and women.

None held the talent Lady Mirella displayed.

When she finished, everyone applauded her efforts, Byron most of all.

“My niece is certainly talented,” Lady Mathilda remarked to him. “She has practiced daily from the time she was a small girl. Why, I believe the only time she has been away from it has been on our way to the Lake District.”

“Play something else, my lady,” Uncle Hugh encouraged. “I am most fond of the pianoforte. I played as a young boy but did not keep it up after I went to university.”

“What would you care to hear, my lord?” Lady Mirella asked.

Uncle Hugh asked for Schubert, saying he had a particular fondness for the composer.

Lady Mirella smiled, and Byron’s heart melted. “Oh, I have always enjoyed playing Schubert’s compositions, my lord. His work moves me greatly.”

She placed her hands on the keyboard again, still for a moment, and then she dived into the music. Again, Byron had never heard such remarkable playing in his life and wondered what other talents Mirella Strong possessed.

When she finished, Uncle Hugh went to the pianoforte to speak with her, and Lady Mathilda turned to him.

“What do you think of my niece, Lord Bridgewater?” the old woman asked.

“She has a rare talent, my lady. I am astounded at her playing.”

Lady Mathilda smiled. “Mirella possesses many talents, my lord. Her beauty is but a small part of her. I like to think she is beautiful both inside and out.”

Lady Mirella began playing again, and this time, Byron recognized the work of Mozart. He sat, entranced, watching her fingers and then her face. When she finished playing, he was certain of one thing, one terrible, frightening thing.

He had not only fallen in love with the way Lady Mirella Strong played the pianoforte.

He had fallen in love with her.