Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante. Bronwyn Scott
wonder what that says of our Mr Agyros? He seemed quite interested in whatever you had to say.’ Beldon’s tone was sharp, almost defensive, as if he was eager to point out that he hadn’t been the only one guilty of a misstep.
Lilya raised her eyebrows. ‘That is precisely my point.’ She lowered her voice to confidential tones in hopes of putting an end to his enquiry. ‘If I am reticent to disclose personal information, it is my business.’
He nodded. His eyes were upon her, solemn and considering. For a moment, they might have been the only two people in the bustling, crowded park. The power of him, the leashed control that she’d perceived last night, was palpable today.
‘My apologies, Miss Stefanov. I thought simply of how lonely it is for you. England must seem a lifetime away from your homeland.’ He was unerringly polite in his deference, his face a bland mask of gentlemanly propriety, yet, like last night, he stirred her unexpectedly. Last night it had been his touch. Today, it was his words.
A tear threatened in her eye and she quickly looked away. Lilya was moved by the kind direction of Beldon’s thoughts. It was interesting to discover how others might view her interactions with her countrymen. Where she saw danger, they saw offers of companionship. But Lilya could not partake in those perceptions. The moment she set aside her awareness was the moment she’d likely be dead. It was a testimony to the irony of fate that in order to protect her countrymen she was cut off from them entirely. In turn, she suspected them, feared them for the dangers they might pose to her. Constant fear was tiring and there was sadness in knowing she could not go back to those warmer climes, to the arms of her extended family.
‘My home is here. Val and Philippa are my family now,’ Lilya said simply.
‘And me, too. I hope you consider me family as well,’ Beldon added.
‘Of course,’ Lilya amended hastily. ‘But you’ll be starting your own family soon and your life will be even less centred around your sister’s.’ They were bold words from an unmarried girl. Unmarried girls did not speak to eligible bachelors about their matrimonial plans. But it was a good way to establish distance between her and Beldon. She was family, after all. He’d said so himself. Let him regret the remark if he didn’t like the permissions it gave her.
From the tight set of his jaw, she could see he didn’t.
‘Yes, wedding bells are in my future’ was all he said before kicking his horse into motion and returning to the path.
What was wrong with him? A day ago, that pronouncement would have flooded him with satisfaction; another goal achieved, another step forwards for the Pendennys legacy. He had decided on his most likely choices. All that remained was deciding who it would be, something he could accomplish within a month.
He’d need a few weeks for dancing, for drives in the park and other social avenues to get to know the women in question before making an official offer. It would likely be Miss Braithmore. He would not be rejected. He’d danced with her later last night and she’d been amenable to his conversation, staring up at him with dark brown eyes. He would be the one to win the heiress. He could not have hoped of such a match a few years ago.
The prospect did not fill him with the usual contentment and he laid the reasons for it at Lilya’s door. Last night she’d been a potent and uncharacteristic distraction for his customary good sense. She’d been vibrant and alive in a ballroom full of pattern-card girls. There was nothing wrong with the pattern card, he reminded himself. It was a template of virtuous womanhood. The pattern card just wasn’t very exciting.
Lilya was exciting.
There was a level of wit to her conversation and her lively eyes suggested a well-formed mind full of opinions and beliefs behind them. Last night had not been an anomaly. Whatever portion of him that hoped he’d merely been dazzled by the magic of a ballroom last night had been disappointed this afternoon.
Even in the bright light of day, Lilya exuded an extraordinary beauty. The delicate line of her jaw mixed with the fire of her eyes and the sensual set of her mouth to create a combination that was both utterly feminine and yet bespoke strength. For all her looks, one should not overlook the subtle power of her, a very attractive power none the less. It had taken a large part of his self-control to keep his attentions focused on Lady Eleanor today when he’d have liked nothing better than to follow the conversation between Lilya and Mr Agyros.
Perhaps he’d merely been too distracted by Mr Agyros’s attentions towards Lilya. The man’s eyes had nearly undressed Lilya with their perusal, his stare bordering on scandalous.
Beldon knew all too well from personal experience the kinds of thoughts Lilya’s person could awaken in a man. Last night he’d not been immune to her charms. He was a man and he knew how men thought. Years ago, he’d spent the better part of a Season making sure Philippa didn’t run afoul of ballroom bounders. He was more than well armed for the role of protector. But Lilya did not seem to need a protector. She had dealt aptly with Agyros’s questions and with his own probe afterwards, making it very clear she was more capable than the usual débutante.
The last provided some level of intrigue. She’d thwarted Agyros’s questions and that raised a question of its own—why would she want to avoid answering in the first place? What was she hiding? If she did have something to hide, it went some distance in explaining that attitude of worldliness he’d noted last night, that indefinable something, that subtle aura of power that set her apart from the other girls. People who kept secrets for a long time had to be successful at deflection.
He was making enormous assumptions. For a man who prided himself on his logic, these speculations were beyond the pale of reason. First, he had no significant grounds on which to found his suppositions. He knew very little about Lilya’s life before she’d come to live with Valerian. He might do well to keep it that way, too.
His behaviour last night had been totally unlike him. The consequence was obvious. He was distracted and tempted away from his plan, his whole purpose for coming to town. This would not do, but it was no less than he deserved for straying from the course. This is what one got for giving in to temptations. An antidote was in order. He must find a way to secure his wayward thoughts in her presence. Failing that, he must avoid her altogether until the details of his marriage were settled.
Chapter Three
Avoidance was proving impossible. Lilya Stefanov was a woman who needed watching. It was the only reasonable explanation for why Beldon found his gaze drifted towards the Latimore dance floor repeatedly where she spun in the arms of Christoph Agyros. There were other less reasonable explanations as well, but Beldon quickly discarded them. As a rule, he did not deal in the unreasonable.
He’d become the de facto chaperon tonight. Philippa had pled yet another headache and Val had taken her home earlier. Beldon wondered about the legitimacy of those ‘headaches’ just as he wondered if he’d have watched Lilya anyway.
He was developing an uncanny ability of knowing when Lilya was in a room and when she had left a room; a good ability for a chaperon to have especially when one’s responsibility looked like Lilya. Positively entrancing in rose silk, she had drawn the gaze of more than one man in the ballroom tonight, Mr Agyros notably among them. The man practically had his eyes glued to her bosom, another reason why Beldon had his attentions riveted on them. It was a chaperon’s job to cull the wheat from the chaff when it came to inappropriate attentions. If Mr Agyros didn’t avert his gaze, he would soon find himself ‘culled’. Agyros looked like the proverbial hungry man at a feast.
Agyros and Lilya whirled by the ballroom entrance and Beldon noticed the Braithmores enter as they passed. Lady Eleanor and her mother saw him and began the slow move his direction. Beldon tried to imagine that Lady Eleanor was already his wife. What would it be like to spot her across a room and know she was his? Certainly looking at her now did not conjure up a host of husbandly feelings. Would he develop an awareness of her presence, knowing when she left a room without actually seeing her go?
Their